#stalker!könig

[diejager]

Okay so I have kinda a prompt...and I was wondering if you could work your magic and like make it a story.. please :)

Okay so like, *reader* was at a restaurant waiting for ghost, the first date had gone so well, you were thinking of dating him seriously. However, 20 minutes had gone by and he hadn't shown up, nor was he replying to your texts. You glanced down at your phone trying to call him once more when suddenly a familiar skull mask was placed on the table. So you look up with a smile, expecting it to be ghost but it turns out to be könig, and he sits beside you and places a hand on your thigh before whispering, "I think you should be seeing someone else" or something...

Cw: DARKFIC, stalking, implied murder, implied death, obsession, possessive behaviour, tell me if I missed any.

You’d been doing so well, leaving behind the man who’d broken you, who took and took until all that was left was a dried carcass of what you used to be, a fragile version of who you once were. You cut ties with him, left him in the rubble of a shattered relationship and picked up whatever was left of your as you moved away, another city, another province and another country, as far away as you could from the monster. 

And here, you met a gentle man, as scarred and broken as you, only his were physically present, people would gawk and stare at him when yours were hidden, buried beneath your skin and sinew, chained in a spiraling mind of terror and nightmares, but you understood him and he understood you. It was a mutual understanding that you built on, stacking every moment of sorrow and agony, tearful calls and sobbing voice, making it into a tower of affection that you worked beautifully on.

You called him Simon, and he called you love. 

It was perfect, the first shards of friendship that soon became love, an intimacy you were both afraid to commit, but were willing to try, to dip your toes in shark infested waters and test your luck. It started out with subtle touches, his fingertips brushing against yours in fleeting signs of affection; then the gentle pull of his voice, calling your name whenever you were near; and the small tokens of servitude he gave away to you, spoiling you rotten with the money he has. 

It was perfect, the miracle you had always dreamed of, the beautiful thing that filled our bleak world with vibrant coloursand liveliness. You shared a kiss, your soft ones pressed against his dried ones, feeling the coarseness and curve of his lips when they moved against yours. It was a passionate one, filled with worship and love that you were both tempted with. That led to a date, lost in each other’s eyes while you swooned at him, doe-eyed and hopeful for more than what you were unafraid to give, sipping on tea and coffee for any kind of distraction for falling further into the throes of love and devotion. 

You left feeling happy, a smile shining brightly on your face until you got home and screamed out to your heart’s content, confessing to your plants and the ghosts that lived in your walls. You’d been giddy, excited for the second date, seeing the first one went so well, planning the dates and places the second day, organised half a month in advance because you were high on the pleasure. You were ecstatic, jumping to and from the walls and ceiling, like a puppy promised treats. 

And when the day arrived, you dressed up, dolled yourself up for a man your heart came to love and got to the restaurant early —too early. Seated at the reserved table and encouraging yourself with a quick monologue, unaware of the time, the ticking minutes passing in a blink until you realised Simon was twenty minutes late. You knew he wouldn’t stand you up, he was too soft with you for that, he emphasised too much with you to let you go so abruptly, but he hadn’t sent anything, no message or call. You were left wondering and worried, lost in your thoughts with no one but the screen that showed Simon’s number. You might have to-

Something was rudely dropped before you, a black fabric placed in the middle of the your table, it was familiar, but many things were black. You turned, frowning and brows pinched, ready to question the person who’d trashed your table. 

“What-” you choked back a whimper, eyes cloudy as you stared up at cold eyes, a chilling blue that would have frozen seas, “You-”

Your throat closed on itself, breath stuck at the back of it as you stammered, unable to utter a single word towards the giant in your nightmares. You could see the glee in his eyes, the squinted lids that screamed of a cruel grin, malicious yet jovial. 

“It’s time to come back home, Spotzi,” his tone was low, a deep monotone that portrayed nothing, not even a single crumb for you to decipher how he truly felt, “You’ve had your fun with him, nh?” [Sparrow]

Him? You didn’t understand what he meant. Had he meant Simon? König couldn’t be serious, you’d finally found someone who felt the same and emphasised with you, and König wanted to take it all away like he did with your life? You stared down, away from his piercing blues, the chill that ripped through you whenever you gaze at it, wandering down to his bloodied palm- They were bloody, bruised and battered. It couldn’t be, no, you couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t dare —he would, he’d always whispered promises about beating other men to a pulp if they got in the way of his affection - obsession - for you.

Your eyes fearfully strayed from his towering form, glancing at the familiar cloth, catching the faded white of a skull dirtied with streaks of red, spotty and ripped. You recognised it, being so, so familiar with the mask as you were with the man who wore it, the soft browns and fluffy blond, the heavy bags and scars. It was Simon’s mask. A tear rolled down your cheek, falling from the fluttering of your lashes, only to be brushed away by the rough thumb of your captor.

“Do not cry, it’d eventually happen,” his attempts of soothing you were flawed, it only made you cry more, lips shaky and breathlessly choking and whimpering, “If not now, then later.”

He crouched to meet your eyes, head tilted up by your chin for König to admire you, roving over your dolled up face and the clothes you decided to wear for a man that was probably dead in an alley. 

“Come, Spotzi. I have your things packed.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[tearsofastraeax]

THE FIRST TIME - prologue

🎀 stalker!könig x cam girl!reader tags: 18+ (no explicit smut in this one, but there's mention of tits and dicks so be warned), voyeurism, (online) stalking, reader is a cam girl & könig is insane :)

The first time König saw you he felt like the world stopped turning. Like every single person around him just stopped moving altogether. He never believed in love at first sight, never liked any of that romantic crap, never cared for anyone that way. 

But then he saw you. You looked so beautiful, just standing there, browsing through the indie section at the run-down vinyl store in the city. He barely ever went there, but he picked up cigarettes from the kiosk across the street and had some more time on his hands, so he trailed inside the small store. 

He immediately pressed his body into a corner of the store, absentmindedly letting his fingers skim through vinyls he couldn’t give less of a shit about. Instead, he stole glances at you. He noted the way your beautiful hair was swept over one shoulder and fanned out over your back. The way your dazzling eyes never left the rows and rows of old and dusty vinyls. The way a broad smile stretched across your lips when you found what you were looking for all this time and an excited little laugh left your pouty mouth. 

He could have melted on the spot right then and there. It only took one look, and he knew he could never forget about you, never want another. 

When you left the store, he waited before following you. Even though his tall statue was a sight to behold, his military training allowed him to blend in, to know how to follow someone without arousing suspicion. 

He needed to know more about you - something, anything. So, eventually, he ended up at your house, staring at you through the window. He tried to take in as much as he could, any crumbs of information to know more about you. 

That evening, when he arrived at his place, he immediately began to work behind his laptop. He scoured local Facebook groups, looked through social media profiles, and even retraced your address in hopes of finding you. And so he did, after painstaking research your name was right there. A satisfied smile grew on his lips as he finally skimmed through your social media accounts. He took his research very seriously, finding old pictures, friends, and family in the process.  

Till he found an account with your face under an obviously fake name. 

He couldn’t believe his eyes, there you were, your sweet face, with those beautiful eyes and those sinful lips. You stared back at him, a smile on your face, your hands gently wrapped around your barely covered tits. You were wearing a stunning bra, just straps of leather that could barely cover your nipples. 

It felt like he was gaping at his laptop screen for hours, his growing cock straining painfully against his pants. And then he got into motion, the next half an hour spent discovering your cute little alter ego, the social media and OnlyFans accounts to promote yourself online and the star of the show, your account on a sleazy cam girl website. 

He was so incredibly excited, so needy, and desperate to see you. A message in all caps on your profile read ‘online every day at 8 pm’. His heart hammered in his chest, 1 more hour and he would see you. See how you would undress for him and touch yourself for him.  

He tightened his hands into fists, hunger racing through his veins. He could barely fucking think straight, his cock aching with desire. But he couldn’t do it, he wanted to save himself for you. He wanted to cum only when he could see you, you deserved it - his full commitment, because you were the only thing that mattered now.

check out the stalker!könig masterlist for more

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Id love to see how DOG! Konig actually first saw Reader or even when he knew he fell in love with her <3

König saw reader first time on TV :)

It was one of those boring moments when the latest mission was done and he was coming down from his adrenaline/testosterone/cortisol high, channel surfing at the base with a blank stare.

He passed this one channel that never had anything worthwhile to watch, except this time—wait a minute—there’s some cute girl whipping egg whites there. He changed the channel out of habit but immediately changed it back again, his eyes boring to the screen where this woman was making lemon tartlets.

He pays attention to the nice voice… Nice lips… Her hands, very delicate when she decorates each tart with raspberries and mint leaves. It’s always hot in his opinion when a girl prepares dinner or dessert, and this cutie is doing both. She has a sad smile and a pair of depressed eyes, her body language reminds him of tortured prisoners on the brink of confession. The despair in her eyes resembles the look on women just before they cum, and it drives him fucking nuts.

She’s fucking perfect… So weak, just a poor little thing who’s trying to hide, probably hates the camera and her audience, every small prick she has to work for and with.

König binges her whole show within a few days from some streaming service, even faps during or after watching – just a few times because in a few episodes, they filmed her breasts and hands a lot, although it must be said it’s that helpless look in her eyes that truly makes him cum hard… He fantasizes about arriving at her studio with his guns blazing, wondering how she would react when he stains her cute little tarts with blood. How she would react when she sees a big, able man come to take what’s his – would she kneel and beg him to save her life, or would she gasp and look like a stupefied goldfish when he pulls his dick out after the bloodbath and tells her to give it a kiss?

Next thing he does is he googles her, finds a few articles in some lousy girl magazine where she mentions she has “learned to make peace with solitude” and that “time spent alone feels good nowadays”. Ja, sicher! Poor little thing is lying her eyes out, anyone can see that. She tries so hard to be brave, looks so fuckable when she sighs and looks down at the food she just made like it’s the only thing in this world she can do right. Just cook some food and decorate dumb pastries, looking like a spoiled little princess while she’s doing it.

He gets his hands on the actual, physical articles and keeps them in his locker because they include pictures of her. Finds her on social media and looks at her Instagram feed first time in the morning and last time before bed, chuckling to himself from how pathetic she is, so fucking desperate to get attention... He has a collection of screenshots on his phone: one of his favourites is, surprisingly, not a picture of her delicious ass, trying another dumb hobby that’s supposed to be trendy. It’s the one where she’s smiling at a big mug of coffee in front of her, looking like a cute little kitten who’s been offered a treat. Or her on the beach with a big straw hat on her head, looking at the waves and smiling a big, silly smile, her worries forgotten for a moment. Her at a party, all dolled up and practically begging to get fucked, holding the waist of some weak civilian he could kill with one punch.

But his ultimate favourite is a selfie she took while she was out on a walk. She’s without her makeup, wearing a simple old faded t-shirt, looking up at the camera with a fake smile and those sad, pleading eyes, silently begging for someone to take the pain away. She’s unprotected, and lonely, so pitiful that König would do anything to teleport beside her right now and haul her away like a sack of whimpering potatoes thrown over his shoulder.

Is no one going to fucking come to her rescue and spoil her to bits, is no one going to fuck those dumb little thoughts out of her head? What the fuck is wrong with men these days, he doesn’t understand, but he’s not going to watch this ridiculous shit for a moment longer…

(If you asked König when he realized he was in love with her, he would answer it was love at first sight. Or… maybe… that one time when she asked where she put the cream. She was talking to herself while the cameras were rolling, looking helpless, lost, and dumb because she literally had one job... König found that very endearing.)

[notknickers]

Helpful König Has a Nasty, Little Secret

last night i went to bed with this idea in my head (which made me giggle like an idiot!) and when i woke up this morning, it was still there, so... here it is.

synopsis: you have recently moved from your old town into a new one after finding work there, which has necessitated the search for a new flat. könig, an old family friend who happens to live there and owns a few flats to rent out, has reached out to you after learning of your move. he has got the most generous offer you could imagine: a rent so low in his biggest, recently remodelled and repainted flat right next to his, for all your tenant needs! that would be just the dream! how could you refuse?! let's hope there is no catch... warnings: perv!könig, pwp, marked age gap (mid-twenties and mid-forties), implied stalking, underwear thief, underwear kink, scent kink, masturbation, caught trespassing, caught masturbating, open ending

tentakönig frantically shakes his head with tentacles crossed in front of its silly octopus body and says: no youth below the age of eighteen allowed past this point.

könig, your new landlord, has developed a peculiar routine: he sneaks in your flat when he knows you won't catch him and, this morning, it's no different. he steals your knickers from the hamper right after you chucked them in there to go shower following the early morning run you take before work, before scampering away with his prize. however, this morning, he doesn't even wait to be back in his flat, clearly emboldened by his streak of previous success, incapable of resisting the thrill of the challenge. instead, he finds a quiet room in your flat, sure he will be gone before you even realise what happened, and leans against a wall, sniffing your underwear.

first, through his mask, taking his time to slowly and fully savour your used knickers as he rubs his hand on the crotch of his jeans, feeling himself grow hard sniff after sniff.

incapable of resisting any longer, he unbuttons his clothes, hefty cock, hard and veiny, springing out of its constraints, already leaking enough that his foreskin slips back unhindered to reveal his swollen, purpling head as könig barely brushes it betweeen gloved fingers. he stifles a satisfied hum. he toys with himself a while, gently caressing and teasing as he breathes in your scent. however, after not long, he needs more. he takes your knickers under his mask, soft, silky fabric pressed hard against his face to stuff his nostrils with your lovely scent.

his grip on himself tightens, movements increasingly staggered as he nears his peak. one last blissful huff, the smell of you filling his senses and his mind to the exclusion of everything else and he starts rubbing his needy cock with your underwear.

a few more pointed strokes and his seed spurts, hot and vehement, on the fabric as he slowly slips down on the floortiles. lifting his mask to take a much needed lungful of air after the impromptu tête-à-tête he had with himself and his stolen bounty.

you suddenly open the door to change into something fresh after your energising shower, towel comfortably wrapped around your figure. you abruptly halt on the threshold, eyes wide as they take in the image of your landlord, the quiet and helpful man in his forties whose flat you have been occupying for a few weeks, panting and mumbling in his native tongue, hips still bucking inside your knickers, now dirtier than ever.

he stares at you, panting sounding louder now that the tap of the shower is close. his cheeks, not covered by his mask, appear visibly damp and flushed. his trousers are lowered around his waist, hand finally unmoving, yet still wrapped around his cock, skin contact hindered by your thin, flimsy underwear.

he looks up in utter astonishment, uncertain what to say, but you are sure that the shame and surprise glimmering in his eye after getting so stupidly caught are tempered by the utter bliss of afterglow.

what do you do now that the old pervert has been caught red-handed and is at your mercy?! 😉

[imsilay]

LETHAL

NSFW! mdni, cw: possessive behavior, somnophilia, drugging, stalker!König, obsessive König (idk lmk if i forget anything)

word count: 1.5k

summary: he was picky and he picked you.

next chapter here

art cr: Tava_tavatic on twt

You were doing the dishes as he was watching you from the apartment building next door which had a wonderful view of your bedroom and kitchen. He had seen enough to know many things about you and your life. You left your house at 10 AM every day and returned at 8 PM. You were a homebody, never wanting to leave your home aside from work and you only had your cat for company. You lived alone in a nice house and didn't often have friends over. He couldn't see any guys when your friends came by, meaning you were single, perfect.

He could even hear the music you were playing while doing the dishes. Your delicious-looking lips moved in time with the song, mumbling the lyrics. He couldn't tear his eyes off your lips. Focusing on them and imagining how they would taste. Perhaps blackberry? He had seen the lip balm you bought a few days before when you complained about how dry your lips were in the winter. Would you let him taste it and find out? Would you even look at him after discovering what he did?

His thoughts were cut off when you finished cleaning the dishes and embraced your cat, it was bed time. His gaze was glued on your back as you left the kitchen and disappeared into your living room, and then reappeared in your bedroom. He knew every part of your house. His heart raced when you put the cat down on your bed and then began removing your shirt revealing the curves of your body and the black bra he was stupidly fond of. He moved closer to the window without realizing it. Crossing his arms to stop the aching feeling to touch your smooth skin, his fingers dug into his arms when you finally tossed the shirt somewhere in your room, probably onto the chair, and then threw yourself onto your mattress.

Yawning and getting comfortable with your cat, it purred and get its place next to you. He wishes it was him… Curling next to you falling asleep with the warmth of your body. But it was impossible, cause he was just your sweet neighbor that you only had small chats, cause he was fucking massive and probably would take the majority of the space of your bed. You eventually fell asleep, he checked his watch. Just in time.

Well maybe it wasn’t that impossible…

He continued his observation for a few more minutes but he was unable to contain himself anymore. He had to be with you. He had to feel you, your body, your hair, the curve of your waist and hips. He wanted to touch your lips, but he was afraid that if he kissed you he would just get lost into them and fuck you there.

He shook his head and pulled himself out of his thoughts before they got dirtier. He grabbed the keys of his and your house and made his way to your apartment. After entering your home and closing the door behind himself, he took his sweet time to breathe in the smell. It was full of you, it made his head spin and heart race. This was his first time coming into your house when you’re there. You were so introverted and had barely any friends. You were living happily in your small world, that was until he came.

The man was over two meters and had on a strange looking mask. He immediately drew your attention because he just looked like some game characters you played. At first he was distant, cold. His icy-blue eyes were intimidating but somehow inviting. You were the first to start the conversation with him, asking about his work. You two became closer with time but it was never too friendly. He was just some neighbor you knew. But he wanted more. Much more.

So after many months of observation and gaining a lot of information about you, he managed to copy your keys. He would come into your house and feed your cat with treats making his presence known and loved. Unfortunately just with your cat. But now his dreams were coming true. He had given you some homemade cookies. And poor you accepted them without any suspicion and now you were on your bed, in a deep sleep, as he walked into your room. Your cat immediately noticed him.

But he was too mesmerized by your sleeping form on the bed that he was frozen in his place. The cat meowed loudly, drawing his attention to it, he gave it some treats he brought with him. Everything was planned. When the cat was out of the room and the door of your bedroom was locked, he walked to your bed. He was finally here. Right next to you as you slept beautifully. He swallowed thickly and sat on the bed. The bed made a squeaking noise with his weight.

You looked even more pretty this close. His gaze lingered on your face; his breath hitched when his gaze stopped on your lips. He reached out a hand and brushed the strands of hair off your face. He was so nervous that his hands were shaking when he touched your hair. It was as soft as he imagined it would be. He tucked your hair behind your ear; his fingers lingered on your jaw before stopping on your chin and tilting your head up just a little, just so he could see your face better. Your lips parted and a soft sigh escaped from your lips when he did; his heart skipped a beat.

You continued to sleep, without noticing the man's touch on your face, thanks to the cookies. His thumb caressed your lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and bit his lower lip. He was holding the urge to give into his feelings, to give in to his desires and take you just then, in that moment. But he had to be patient. He wanted your first time together to be special, like you deserved. But it was turning him on so much to see you in that vulnerable state. He just wanted to tore of your bra and see what’s underneath. Then move to your sleeping shorts and take them off along with your panties so he could eat you out until you cum or wake up. He wondered what your expression would look like.

But still… it was just his fantasies. It caused him pain physically. “Scheiße, Maus.” he mumbled with a sigh. He took of his mask with his still trembling hands and put it on your nightstand, then took of his boots placing them on the floor next to your bed. He was ready to curl up with you. He climbed next to you, close. So close that you felt his breath on your face. His heart was beating like crazy now. His hands found your waist. “Gott.” he hissed when he felt how soft your skin was. His arms snaked around your waist and drew you close until your body fit perfectly with his, lips only centimeters apart. “Mine.” he growled. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack because the proximity of your body. Your body was almost disappeared inside his arms. It only made him want to protect and posses you.

His fingers caressed your skin as he watched your face closely. To memorize everything about you. He even tried to count your eyelashes. It was stupid but he was just too lost in your beauty. One of his hands found yours and put it on his face. Like you was caressing his cheek. It was pathetic but he was too desperate for your affection. He left your hand on his cheek and his hand found your back. His fingers tracing up and down on your spine then eventually stopped on the clasp of your bra. “Nein, not now.” he scolded himself with his eyes frowned. His gaze found your lips again and softened. He wanted- no he craved to kiss you. Your lips looked delicious.

He swallowed and closed his eyes promising himself that he would stop after a taste. When he opened his eyes, he was determined to contain himself; to show restraint. So, his hand was on your chin again, tilting your head up to meet his lips. When his lips brushed against yours, he took in a sharp breath; like someone just hit him with a bat, kissing you felt like it. His hand on your waist pulled you closer, as close as he could. His kiss started slowly, with all of his love and affection; with all of his feelings. But the craving... the craving only grew. His whole body shook as he stole your breath. The determination of containing himself was no where to be found with his morals. He moaned into your mouth and his cock throbbed. His hands traveled down and big palms covered your hips. The kiss was sloppy and hungrier now. He was too lost into heaven. You were his heaven.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc<3

Stalker König has a special place in my heart. this is definitely my favorite work. also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

i’m so sleepless so i’m just gonna post this and post the rest tomorrow.

[tacticalprincess]

tw yandere elements, stalking 18+

stalker!könig who becomes infatuated with you the moment you show up at his doorstep and greet him with a pearly white smile, all dolled up and pretty, comically out of place in the run down apartments you live in. you’re a sight for sore eyes after being surrounded by death and destruction, far more appetizing to the man in front of you than the colorful cupcake you shove into his large hands. he knows he’s in for it when you excitedly announce that you’re his new neighbor.

stalker!könig who has a crippling fear of corrupting you. all of the evidence he’s gathered thus far points to him being good for nothing but inflicting pain and suffering. he knows someone as sweet as you has no business being affiliated with someone like him and for that reason, he doesn’t trust himself to be as close to you as he craves to be. he avoids direct contact with you at all costs, opting to admire you from afar in fear that he’ll taint you, should you fall into his greedy hands.

stalker!könig who hates that you’re always so bubbly and kind to him despite his brooding, aloof attitude. you’re too friendly for your own good, it’s oughta put you in danger one day, schatz. don’t you know that you shouldn’t be so inviting towards strange men?

he hates it because it makes him feel ten times worse when he’s alone in his room, fat cock heavy and drooling, brain riddled with the thought of you :( he hates himself for the things his depraved mind conjures up involving you, too dirty and dark for such an innocent angel. he feels guilty as he recalls the curve of your ass poking out of your skirt when you bent down to press your floor number on the elevator, the way your pretty little nipples stiffen against your shirt when you “forget” to wear a bra in the corridors, the way your big eyes shine up at him whenever you speak. when he’s fucking his aching dick into his rough fist, he can’t help but imagine it’s your much smaller, much softer hand, picturing how cute your pristine nails would look grazing along his hairy groin.

stalker!könig who doesn’t think of himself as a stalker, he prefers bodyguard that you just don’t know about yet. a guardian angel of sorts. he only has your best interests at heart, just wants to make sure you’re safe. or at least that’s what he tells himself when he finds himself with his hands around the neck of the guy who slid you his number on a napkin at your job. a napkin, really? did this pervert really think he was good enough for you? it doesn’t help that you smiled and blushed at him when you picked it up, always so lovely, even to those who don’t deserve it. dumb little girl, who knows what his intentions were with you…

you’re just so naive, little maus, if he doesn’t protect you from men like him, who will?

[uhohdad]

HIS

Another Stalker!Konig x Reader Fic

Summary: Konig has an unhealthy obsession with you. AO3

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Masturbation, Abusive Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, No use of y/n

He had officially lost control over himself.

Konig knew he’d been a little off. Maybe even borderline perverted - but he’s always been good at keeping his darker desires buried with all the other horrific thoughts and traumatic memories that come with his career choices. He was good at that, repressing the difficult things and pushing forward. A soldier has to be.

But you.

You brought it out of him.

It was all your fault, really. You were coaxing the corruption from him, undoing years of rigorous training and discipline.

Not that you were aware. Konig made very sure of that. There were a lot of close calls, too. Decisions he had made out of pure impulse. It’s your fault. He can’t think straight when you’re around, he loses control over himself.

He knows he should quit you. Logically, rationally - he knows this isn’t good for him. It’s not good for you. It’s just not healthy. He should quit you, cold turkey. Forget every little detail he’s learned about you. Stop following you around. Let you free.

He’s tried.

Every time he sees you around base, his gaze is held captive by those beautiful eyes and that silky head of hair, you steal his breath. It’s like he’s lived his entire life in the cruel cold and you were a roaring fire of warmth he’s never known. Your warmth pooled in his chest and spread through his limbs and he could feel you burning beneath his skin. It ignites the complex and dark feelings and he’s convinced that it’s destiny that put you here. That the world was giving you to him on a silver platter.

That you’re his.

Who would be there to watch over you, to protect you? Who will make sure you get back to your quarters safe every night? Who will make sure that the fresh recruits won't get too handsy with you? Who will keep a watchful eye on you in the field - such a small delicate little thing doing such a dangerous job.

But most importantly - who will worship you, like you deserve to be worshiped?

He’s never interacted with you. You probably don't even know he exists. On the surface, he'd say it's because he's nervous. That it’s normal for a guy to avoid a pretty girl. But he knows that it's really because he has to protect you from himself. That he's just an oozing cesspool of unresolved emotional baggage with atrcosious desires. He can't let you too close, no. Doesn't want to hurt you, to dull your light in anyway. He doesn't trust himself with you. Can't control himself around you, throwing caution to wild. He’s afraid of what he's capable of doing to you. What he wants to do to you.

You were his. You just didn't know it yet.

——————————————————————

Friday night was difficult for Konig, as it usually was. It was easy to follow you around base, so convenient that you had both worked together. He was supposed to be there, shielded with plausible deniability and equipped with home field advantage.

A more casual environment was a challenge for him. He didn't exactly blend in among the locals. It's difficult for him - to juggle the harsher risk of getting caught following you around town as opposed to base, while also crippled by his large stature.

At least the team was getting inebriated tonight, it's easier to go unnoticed when everyone’s too drunk to be fully aware of their surroundings.

Watching you have a good time sparks conflicting feelings for Konig. He loves to see that radiant smile. Usually you're so modest, always a polite smile, never letting your face warp. The beer, though, turns your insecurities to ash and your cheeks a rosy blush - you don't seem to hold back as much. Your smile is toothy and face-wrinkling, so genuine, it makes Konig feel like he can't breathe, eyes locked on to you like he's frozen in time. He knows he's not worthy of that smile, but he wants it.

It should be him making you smile like that.

He can hear your laugh from his booth in the dimmest corner of the dingy bar if he tilts his head just right, and listens carefully. Drown out the over-the-top music and incessant pub chatter. He could get intoxicated off your laugh, unrestricted and fueled by the alcohol. It makes him feel so warm to hear your authentic laugh.

It should be him making you laugh like that.

He loves seeing you enjoy yourself, he does. He wants nothing more than to see you happy and he works hard to do so.

And yet you give your joy away to others, - not the polite smiles and fake laugh you dull down for others - the real ones. The ones that come from deep within and give breath to any room you're in. Giving them away freely, and to who? Your co-workers? Your acquaintances?

Over what? A cheap joke?

He bets that it wasn't even funny. Not that you didn't have a good sense of humor, no, he loved your sense of humor.

It’s just... did you really have to rub it in?

You didn't see it, but you really did have the power to make a room so much more livelier. Konig hates not being in the same room as you. And he hates that in most rooms you're in, those hard-headed jocks from 141 followed. You'd been indoctrinated quickly. He can't blame you, you're naive, trusting, still new. You're quick, though, you’ll learn soon enough. You didn't see them for what they really were yet.

Not worthy of you.

Not worthy of your perfect laugh and radiant smile and quick wit and sharp field skills.

He despised that they get a front row seat and he has the wait in the shadows for scraps, working incredibly hard to lap up the leftovers of what you give out to them for free.

Konig gave a long exhale under his breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head back slightly as he tried to will away the vitriol boiling under his skin. He felt himself slipping away to that depraved place and he had to ground himself.

You had that effect on him, making him lose control.

When Soap throws his arm around you, and you don't even seem to notice or care, lost in the story you're telling, your hands waving along with your excited tone, Konig thinks he's about to lose his mind. It feels like you've stabbed him, liebe, why are you letting this happen? Why aren't you shaking his stupid hand off your shoulder and giving him a scowl so powerful he’d never dare to do it twice?

Why are you still laughing and smiling and carrying on when Soap is touching something that belong to him?

When you finish telling a story that Konig is sure was brilliant and wonderful and perfect, Soap leans in inches from your face to whisper something to you. Konig can't read his lips, can't understand what he's whispering in your ear as he half-way embraces you.

Your eyebrows pull as you focus on his hushed voice over the commotion of the bar. Recognition floods you and a cheeky smile creeps across your face.

Konig’s nails are digging into his palms. His mind is racing and that bitter taste in his mouth turns his lips into a scowl.

He watches as you both stand and Soap finally removes his arm from you, finally. It was draped over your delicate shoulders much too long for his liking.

Where are you two headed, though? Off to the bathroom so he can seduce you while you're inibriated? Going to sneak you out of the pub while the rest of the team is distracted, just to push you up against some dingy alleywall, not able to resist another moment without knowing what it's like to kiss your lips?

Or, God help him, what if it wasn't the first time? What if you had already kissed him?

How long has this been going on, right under his nose?!

Konig’s slipping again, his thoughts running from him. Upon realizing he hasn't taken a breath this whole time he forces a few deep inhales, nostrils flared in uncontrollable rage.

This is your fault, you know.

A wave of relief floods him when you two stop at the bar, squeezing between the stools of the counter as you attempt to flag a bartender.

When the bartender notices you both, Soap’s hand finds your shoulder again, holding on for just a little too long as he relays your drink order to the bartender.

That should be him getting you a drink.

That should be him with his hand on your shoulder.

You and Soap are smiling as you chat, he can't hear what about, but Konig is hoping it’s just alcohol that’s to blame for your flushed cheeks.

The bartender returns with your drinks and yet you two linger by the counter, continuing your one-on-one conversation. What’s so great about him, huh? Why aren’t you two returning to the group?

He watched as you press the plastic cup to your lips and take a sip of your drink, eyes trained on Soap as he obnoxiously holds you in conversation. He hates that about the 141 boys. It’s easier for Konig when you’re all in a group, but it always seems like those boys all want their private moment with you.

He knows he can’t blame them, of course they want to talk to you. They can see your light just like Konig can. Liebe, you just don’t understand, they don’t have good intentions with you. They want to control you, dim you, ruin you.

It should be him ruining you.

Breathe. He has to breathe. Through gritted teeth, a snarled lip, and flared nostrils he has to breathe.

He’s suffocating on his own anger and the air in the bar is stuffy. He needs a break, a break from you but he needs to stay and make sure Soap doesn’t try to take advantage of you. Could he even blame him at this point? When you’re looking at him with those doe eyes and giggling like a naive schoolgirl at whatever shtick he’s peddling at you.

You’ve reached the level of intoxication where the alcohol is going down easy, Konig noticed. Not even a grimace as you sip your drink.

You’re shaking your head at Soap, and you give him a point paired with a cheeky expression. You both are finally heading back to the group, and Konig feels safe enough to leave his watch to slip out for some fresh air.

He needs to regroup, find his center.

This is all your fault.

You were acting so irresponsibly tonight. Letting these boys so close to you while you’re inebriated. So vulnerable. Chugging your drinks like you’re trying to make yourself stumble. Being your true, authentic self in their presence. Out in public, for anyone to see. It’s like flashing your expensive jewelry in the shady parts of town. So careless with your light, liebe.

This is why he has to watch you. To protect you. You’re too careless to do it yourself.

He’s got his eyes closed as he rests his back on the brick of the pub, having to remind himself to breathe.

You just make him so angry sometimes.

And then he hears your laugh. That genuine laugh he craved so much to hear. Craved to elicit from you. That beautiful laugh that fills his chest with warmth and makes his stomach flutter.

But it’s too close, way way too close.

He opens his eyes in a panicked jolt and he sees you, pushing open the pub door with your attention turned to the boy following you out.

Konig quickly shuffles backwards, not turning his back away from the action. He slips into the alleyway, body pressed up against the brick to shield himself.

He was always careful to keep his distance from you. He’s so recognizable, easy to pick out in a crowd. A stature you’d remember twice. It’s crucial that he stays on the opposite sides of the room of you, as far as possible.

Thankfully you two aren’t paying very good attention to your surroundings.

Oh, liebe. Always in your own little world. Unaware of the dangers that could be lurking in the shadows. Another reason why he has to watch over you. You’re not watching where you’re stepping, either, liebe. Stumbling as you step to the sidewalk.

What were you doing out here? Coerced from the safety of the herd again by one of them.

Not just any of them - Ghost.

Soap was annoying, sure, but his frat-boy shtick was an easier pill to swallow than Ghost. He was the one he hated more than any of them.

Konig knows you like him.

Simon fucking Riley.

With his perfect accent and tough exterior and mystique that attracted the women like honey attracts flies.

What did Ghost have that he didn’t?

You’re drunkingly humming the song that was playing in the bar. It doesn’t sound so over-the-top when it’s coming from you.

“Rowdy tonight, are we?” Ghost says, never straying from his usual gravely and unimpressed tone.

Konig has to force himself not to mock Ghost. Instead he hopes you can’t hear the sound of him grinding his teeth in rage.

He’s so fucking pretentious, so fucking arrogant. How dare he tease you? And for what, being lovable? What you do best?

Konig can hear you give a long drawn out hum as you think it over, “You have to be, every once in awhile. Good to let it out sometimes.” Konig hears gravel scraping under one of your shoes. “Would you prefer I be extra rowdy once a week? Or a little rowdy everyday?”

You’re so charming. Konig loves the way your mind works, always with your silly little prompts and thought experiments. You were always such a daydreamer, he could tell by the way you get lost in thought. If you totally zone out, and he watches careful enough, he can catch you making slight facial expressions at your own thoughts. He wishes he could pick your brain. Learn you from the inside out, always knowing what you’re thinking.

Ghost lets out a huff and Konig hears the unmistakable sound of a lighter being struck, and his brows pinch. He can’t help but peek around the corner and get a visual on you two.

Ghosts’ lighting himself a cigarette, the flame illuminating his face. Once it’s burning, he holds it between his first two fingers as he exhales the smoke. He passes the lighter to you - since when do you smoke, liebe?

You’re just doing it to impress him, aren’t you?

“Those are my only two options?” Ghosts asks you on an exhale. Even though you’re about to light your own, he still makes an effort to not blow smoke in your beautiful face.

“Well, what else do you suggest I do with my rowdiness? Bottle it up like you?” You say with a cheeky tone. Konig can tell your words are influenced by alcohol. You normally wouldn’t speak to your Lieutenant like this.

You knew you’d get away with it, too. With your devilish smile and teasing eyes.

Konig watches as you put the cigarette to your lips and he feels his cock twitch in his pants.

When the orange flame casts a light on your features it’s like someone took his breath from him. He’s never seen you lit like this before, liebe. The highlights and shadows cast upwards on your features was fit for a painting.

It’s gone in an instant, but you still look so beautiful in the moonlight. You pass Ghost’s lighter back to him. Konig can’t hold back his scowl at the way you brush up against his fingers. He’s hoping it’s just because you’re drunk, uncoordinated.

Ghost holds this cigarette with his mouth as he slides the lighter back into his pocket. He exhales while keeping his gaze forward, “I think the word you’re looking for is discipline, soldier.” His tone is still unchanged, but he gives you a sly glance from the corner of your eyes.

Ghost doesn’t let it show much, but Konig can see from here that even he has a soft spot for you. That’s the light you have, liebe. Able to crack the toughest of exteriors.

“Discipline? Oh, yeah. I remember that one. In the dictionary, it’s the one right next to boring, yeah?” Your whole body is turned toward him, and you’ve still got that cheeky smile on your face, your tone playful.

Could you make it anymore obvious that you want to fuck him, liebe? It’s like you’re slashing Konig with each word, it hurts so much to see you acting so irresponsibly. So intoxicated that you’re flirting with your superior.

Ghost huffs again, and Konig can tell he’s amused with you, even if it came off as annoyed. He takes another draw from his cigarette and flicks away some ash.

“Thesaurus.” He corrects.

“Gesundheit.” You say proudly.

Oh, liebe. You’re practically begging him to fuck you. Pushing your chest out and kicking your feet sweetly and flirting with him like the whore you are.

Breathe. He can’t lose his cool here. He’s trying to soothe his temper, but how can you expect him to do that when you’re acting like this? So fragrantly?

Konig’s teeth are about to crumble under the pressure and his nails are breaking the skin in his palms as he clenches his fists.

This is your fault.

You both take a hit from your cigarette, and Konig can’t believe you’ve allowed him to corrupt you like this so soon. Smoking? What a terrible habit. He’ll have to interfere if you keep it up.

You both still for awhile, basking silently in the nicotine buzz and taking in the evening. The moon was bright tonight, and the street was quiet compared to the overwhelming pub.

Konig watched you close your eyes just a little too long, and he’s wondering how far gone you are. What terrible things will happen if he were to let you out of his sight. Konig’s tired, but he hardly gets rest anymore. It’s difficult managing his career, protecting you, and stay well rested. He can’t forgo the first two, so his sleep suffers.

You’re worth it liebe. You’re all he thinks about from the moment he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep.

But did you really have to keep him out so late?

Don’t you think you’ve put his heart through the chipper enough today?

You extinguish your cigarette on the red brick behind you. You don’t litter, no. How considerate of you to take it in with you to toss. Ghosts is less thoughtful, flicking his butt to the ground and stepping it out with his boot.

You slip back into the pub, and Konig briefly considers pulling Ghost into the alley and ending your fling right now.

He resists his urges, something that’s becomes more difficult the longer he observes you, seething from his alleyway as he watches Ghost follow you in.

He didn’t even get the door for you, liebe. Konig would treat you so much better.

Konig has to let all these feelings out somewhere, and he was far from the battlefield. He opts for the metal bin in the alleyway filled to the brim with empty beer bottles and pub garbage. A firm kick paired with an aggressive grunt imprints the metal with his boot as it knocks over, it’s contents spilling out into the puddles of the alleyway with clinks and rattles.

He takes a few more deep breaths.

He was never like this before. Anxious thoughts were one thing, but this constant feeling of rage and jealousy and obsession boiling underneath his skin has only swelled the more he observes you. He’s never felt like he doesn’t have control over himself, over his actions.

This is your fault.

Konig tries to soothe himself by shutting his eyes and picturing you flirting with him instead of Ghost. That it was Konig who had snuck you away for a drunken cigarette. That it was him you were pushing your chest out for, him you were desperately flirting with.

It does ease the depravity a bit, and he casually slips back into the pub. He was still angry, don’t get him wrong, but his nerves about leaving you alone with them overcame his rage.

So he sits back down in his dingy little corner, keeping an eye on you listening to the story being told and finishing your drink.

He thinks you must be close to calling it quits judging by the way your eyes keep fluttering shut. You’re getting sleepy, holding back a yawn as you stretch your back against the booth.

A few minutes pass, and you say something to the group, probably a goodbye, as you stand and gather your items. You head for he bar and pay your tab, and who other than Simon Riley walks up to the counter as you wait for the bartender to return with change.

He leans against the bar, facing the opposite direction as he turns his head to look at you. Konig’s trying to make out what he’s saying but can’t hear over the noisy pub. You wave your hand at him dismissively.

Good, liebe, shut him down.

Ghost continues, his hands draped casually on the bar behind him. You roll your eyes a bit at him, giving a half-smile.

No. Whatever he’s offering you is bad news. Don’t let him pressure you, liebe.

You thank the bartender oh so sweetly, and turn towards the door as you stuff your change sloppily into your wallet. Ghost slinks from his propped up position and follows you.

Konig’s eyes narrow, watching as Ghost follows you closely behind.

Going to trick you back to his place and then take advantage of you?

What else could it be? Ghost must of saw his opportunity and took it. This is all because you couldn’t act responsibly, liebe.

After a moment passed, Konig follows you two out of the pub and traces your steps. He’s careful, keeping a block and a half between you. Had you not been so inebriated, he might have followed further behind and been a bit more discreet. But you don’t have an eye for detail at the moment and Ghost is too busy guiding you along and keeping an eye on your unsteady strides on the sidewalk to notice.

Konig has to force himself not to jog to catch up in an attempt to decipher the echos of your words as they reverb off the quiet streets.

When you’re back on base, Konig is able to close some distance thanks to the cover of foliage.

The base is mostly empty, the workers and soldiers either home or sleeping in their quarters. Konig’s able to crouch behind some bushes a safe distance from you, able to see flashes of your lower halves through the branches. He's careful to be still as he quiets his breathing.

He’s close enough to hear you both now.

“Thanks for walkin’ me back.” You say, words slurring a bit.

“It’s my job to look out for the team. Especially when they don't know how to hold their liquor.”

Konigs heart pinches in his chest.

It’s his job to look out for you.

“Liquor? I barely even know her!” You say with a proud smile as you fumble your key in your lock.

Ghost gives an unamused sigh.

You finally get your door open, “Night Lt.”

“Goodnight.” He stays stiffly, waiting for you to be safely inside before turning away from your door and heading off. Konig stays in his spot amongst the bushes until he's gone.

He’s glad Ghost left, didn't try to take advantage of you. The interaction still leaves a knot in his stomach. How dare Ghost take care of you, make sure you were safe. That’s what Konig was for.

Once Konig is sure the coast is clear, he sneaks around the side of the building, heading for the small window you had. He’s delightfully surprised when he can see the light pouring from inside your modest quarters.

Usually you had the blinds closed at this hour. Guess you were too drunk to care.

You were too drunk to care about a lot of things, Konig noticed, as he nested into a spot obscured by your window, just the top of his head and eyes showing from your view. You had skipped your shower and forgo most of your normal night routine, your cares dulled by the booze.

This was his favorite part of the day. When he could have you all to himself - he despises having to share you. He enjoys observing you when you think no one’s watching. When you feel safe enough to shed the facet of your persona in charge of social life, and just let yourself be. The real you, liebe.

Of course there was the intoxication - so you weren’t quite yourself - but he still enjoys watching you in your natural environment. You turn off the lights, it takes a moment for Konig’s eyes to readjust, and he watches as you stumble over to your bed, shedding your clothes down to your underwear before collapsing onto your bed.

Konig can’t help the ache that fills the give in his pants as he maps your uncovered features.

It’s like you were sending him a message. A thank you for keeping you out of trouble all day, even though you acting were so difficult.

You’re forgiven.

How can he stay mad at such an engel? When your gorgeous body is on display, just for him. His gaze is tracing the curve of your delicate hips and your perfect ass in those cute little panties. Not for anyone else, not any of those boys on the 141. No, this show was just for him. You even left the blankets off you and the blinds open for him so he could get a perfect view. You’re so considerate, liebe.

Your hands are propped under your head as you drift off and he cant help but imagine himself straddling you, cock grinding against your ass as he kisses along the dip of your back, holding those pretty little wrists down. He’s been able to restrain himself, but the last few weeks the urge is unshakable. He doesn’t know how much longer he can go without sneaking into your room, liebe. He just wanted to know what it was like to be in your space. Where you sleep and decompress and get ready for the day. He wonders how many times you’ve pleasured yourself on that modest little mattress.

His cock is at full attention now, and he can’t help but palm himself through his pants.

He needs to get close you. Close enough to take in all the precious details of your features. Close enough to hear you breathe. Close enough to feel the warmth that radiates from your skin. Close enough to figure out what your shampoo smells like.

You probably wouldn’t even mind.

His gaze flicks over briefly to the lock to your quarters. He wonders if you’re in a deep enough sleep not to stir if he were to pick it.

You’re practically inviting him in. You can’t possibly expect to tease him like this and expect him to control himself? You’re giving yourself to him.

Desperate hands pop the button of his pants, shoving his hand into his waistband in order to find some relief. He can’t stop staring at your beautiful body, liebe. He wants to wake you up with your cunt in his face, already dripping from his tongue making gentle circles around your clit. Too turned on to deny him. He wants you to helplessly come on his face, his grip digging into your plush thighs as he forces you spread and holds you steady though the convulsing of intense orgasm.

He takes a look around, making sure no one was around before pulling his cock out, his grip firm on the base as he pumps himself. He just can’t help it. Not when you’re sprawled on the bed and showing off your body for him.

He’s thinking about how your hands would cling to him, nails clawing to get him off your pulsing clit, but he would hold firm, taking advantage of your sensitively. He wants to you powerless to the pleasure, the only resistance you’d be capable of is desperate and broken pleading as he hungrily commits your taste to memory. It’s the least you could do for him, after everything he‘s done for you.

His other hand presses up against the cool wall, holding him steady as he jerks himself off.

Precum is leaking from him as he pictures you, mumbling sweet nothings and reduced to a trembling mess. You wouldn’t even have it in you fight him as he lines his cock up with your dripping cunt, pushing his tip in and savoring how tight you are as you stretch around him.

He wants to ruin you, liebe. Reduce you to a whining and quivering mess as he pounds into you.

The visual you gifted him had him so excited, he didn’t last long. He spilled come all over the concrete wall beneath your window sill, some dripping to the dirt beneath his feet. His whole body shakes at the intensity of the orgasm, involuntarily hunching forward and choking off any noises begging to escape him. He’s imaging he’s filling you up with his come, staking his claim deep inside you. Claiming his ownership.

He’s still for a moment, taking hitched breaths as he recovers from his orgasm.

Once his thoughts return, the flush on his features transitioned from the warmth of pleasure to the heat of shame, looking to you lying on your bed sleeping, then to his mess scattered outside your window as he crouches outside.

He’s out of control, he can’t help himself, liebe. He wasn’t usually like this. It was just for you - you brought it out of him. It was all your fault, you’ve reduced him to a perverted peeping tom by teasing him like this. Purposefully making him jealous, messing with his emotions, and then luring him back with your beauty. He knew what game you were playing, he was smart enough to understand the power you held over him. He still could not resist you.

You will be punished for how you’ve been treating him, liebe. The tortuous weeks you’ve put him through. He will ruin you. Dig his nails in, train you until you are right where he wants you, never able to hurt him again.

You were his, liebe. You just didn’t know it yet.

Part Two

Original Works Masterlist

[konigsblog]

i just discovered a new obsession...... stalker!konig is so so hot i cant

i do have some posts for stalker!könig, so if you want, you can look through my posts! :3

tw: stalker!könig, stalking, yandere behaviour, non-con, somnophilia.

stalker!könig is so lovesick and delusional for you, it's completely illegal what he's doing, but he makes no apologies for his actions, and excuses it as you playing "hard to get". he truly doesn't see a lot wrong with what he's doing — yes, he knows it's illegal, but he doesn't agree that it should be, and continues to perv on you and stare at you while you're asleep.

he has set up cameras in your home, in your bathroom especially. he adores watching you change and shower, the sight of your body covered in foamy, bubbly water drives him crazy. :(

but, könig takes it a step further. usually, he comes all over a tissue, or one of your bathroom towels, but, now he wants his precious cum to be stuffed inside you, to not go to waste. he's pulled your panties out, just enough for him to spurt his load into before letting go, letting his cum soil your panties. occasionally, he'll jerk off to the sight of you, peaceful and relaxed, before opening your mouth and shooting his hot, white release into your mouth.

sometimes you wake up with a suspicious white liquid crusted on your lips, breasts or cheek. :(

[ghouljams]

I’ve been wondering something about BumbleBee (my nickname for Cowboy!König’s darling. Because her horse is named Honey and also just cause she seems clumsy like the bees that bump into my windows all the time). Why is she doing….whatever it is she’s doing? She seems to not have any experience whatsoever with animals (or maybe it’s just horses), doesn’t have any basic knowledge of her own surroundings (I’m guessing on that, since she didn’t recognize that the one snake was a garter snake and harmless), and just overall seems kinda new to this.

I love bumblebee, that's so cute. Ghoul stamp of approval. König calls her "Hummelchen" specifically because of Honey and her clumsiness. 

So the author’s note here is that the house/farm is her grandparent's. It's her inheritance and she's sort of half fixing it up while she's living there. She is a city transplant who is truly making a new life for herself after the sort of really messy divorce you only get when you were high school sweethearts that got married waaaay too young. He was not good to her. Like she lost everything and is slowly rebuilding her life with Honey(and König).

We're going to pretend that this is König asking this question so I can do some cute fic. Man wants to know what's up with his future wife and is willing to use basic interrogation tactics to do that. This is pretty immediately after Bee gets cleaned up.

The question hangs in the air between the two of you. Your lips are still pressed to the mug in your hands, halfway to sipping the coffee offered to you. König stares at you before leaning forward against the table.

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me." He says, back tracking. You settle your mug on the table.

"No, I'm… pretty clearly not used to this," You say tapping your fingers against your mug, "I get why you'd be curious."

König thought of the neat stack of papers he had on you in his closet. Your entire life laid out on printer paper and background checks. An entire dossier, everything he could find on you. He wasn't curious, he wanted to know your thoughts. Facts were only useful as far as he could make conversation, and he couldn't ask about anything private you hadn't told him yourself, even if he did know too much about you.

"Truth be told I'm not really sure what I'm doing out here, it's not like I have any dreams of farming or animal husbandry." You smile at your mug, the warmth is comforting, König is comforting, "but I didn't really have anywhere else to go, so here I am."

"Nowhere else to go," König half asks, you nod.

"Yeah, I mean, after I split from-" you cringe, not wanting to say their name, it's fine König knows it either way, "I sort of lost everything but the house and Honey."

"Scheiße," König mumbles to himself, eyes hot and angry, how anyone could put you through the hell you’d been through was beyond him. If it was him, he never would’ve let you go, never would’ve forced you to that breaking point. If it was him…

But now it is him, or it will be him. You look so sweet and kept sitting across from him in his oversized shirt, biting your pretty pink lip and staring down your own wobbly reflection in your mug. 

“It’s not so bad,” You assure yourself, “I have the whole house to myself, and I can go into town whenever I want, and I’ve got Honey to keep me company.” And me, König thinks to himself, you’ve got me too.

“If you ever need help with anything,” He offers, and you smile at him, a half shy thing that still lights up the kitchen like sunshine.

“I do seem to need a lot of help,” You laugh a little. König nods, and you reach across the table to smack his arm, "You're not supposed to agree with me."

"Sorry," his eyes are so pretty when he smiles, the way they crease and sparkle just for you makes your stomach flip. Maybe it won’t be so bad living out here with König just down the street. You could use a good friend.

[vvampir3s]

☆ One Last Kiss.

✮ pairing:

Stalker!König x fem!Reader

✮ warnings:

stalking, mentions of cnc, brief mention of murder, PLEASE tell me if i missed any 😭.

✮ word count:

1.1k words (sorry for the shortness 🙏).

✮ a/n:

couldn’t stop listening to this song, had to write this! absolutely adore the result, and the first time im posting a drabble/fic?? 🙏.

this is just the first verse!

uhh thats basically it, this was kinda self indulgent but wtv 🤷‍♀️. stalker and slasher könig fics got a chokehold on me atp 🤭.

“Heavy humid night, corner of Park and Main,”

You were sitting on the cold wooden bench, late at night. Dumped by your boyfriend a mere 15 minutes ago, just as you were about to go on a dinner date. Dressed in a short black slip on dress, your favourite navy blue heels, your hair straightened with bouncy curled ends.

Hugging your knees to your chest tight, you silently cried, unbeknownst to the man stalking walking along the park trail towards you. As you sobbed in a ball, you felt and heard the bench creak under someone’s weight, not yours, of course. Someone just sat down next to you, earning a jolt of surprise and gasp from your end.

— “Heard you were crying, ma’am.”

Said the Austrian man with a gruff voice, placing a handkerchief in your small palm. His touch lingered for a brief moment, before pulling away almost sheepishly. Despite his hardened appearance at the moment, his eyes softened upon seeing your teary bloodshot eyes.

He fucking hated seeing you cry. His little taube, no one and nothing deserved her mere breath. He would slaughter the scum who even think to upset her, let alone make her cry. Or maybe, he had already done it.

— “Thank you..?”

You sniffled, feeling yourself burn with shame for crying in a public setting. Alone. At night, in the pouring rain for gods sake. With an obsessive piece of shit following you.

“Cast that first glance, your smile, my veins,”

He thought his heart would burst. Just as you wiped your tears away, cleaned your nose free of snot, you looked to him with a soft, appreciative, painfully angelic smile. He should’ve known what he was getting into. His veins boiling, his heart pounding, his mind racing with a multitude of thoughts, mostly perversions.

— “No problem, mein liebling.”

He said with a small nod, leaning back against the bench. It was silent between the two of you, only the noise of the rain pouring down to fill the void. But you enjoyed it nonetheless, putting your knees back down, crossing a leg over the other, with your hands resting in your lap.

You couldn’t help but look him over, noticing large, muscular beefy build. One of a Greek god at that, really. His black combat boots, large grey hoodie, and black cargo pants. Unfortunately, his face concealed by a sniper hood. He had his sleeves rolled up slightly, his large, somewhat veiny, calloused hands in view for you to ogle at.

“At maximum capacity, blood pumpin' so fast,”

He knew you were staring. God, just the feeling of your eyes on him had him overdosing on pleasure. On one hand, he wanted to take you home, shower you with love and affection, wife you up, have a little family back in Austria, practically domestic you all for himself.

On the other hand… he was fighting back the sickening urge to just take you here and there, lap at you like a starved man, make you gag on his monster of a fucking dick, fill you to the brim with his seed, paint your walls—

All the while you thought you were being sneaky about it, he simply acted oblivious. Believably enough, too.

Snapping out of your trance like state, you were about to call for a taxi to drive you home. Meanwhile, he put his left arm over the top of the back bench, practically wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He rested his arm there, slouching back and spreading his legs out comfortably.

— “What happened, schatz? I’m all yours.”

— “Pardon me, sir?”

Did he just say that? Fuck, it slipped from his tongue. Whatever, act natural. His little liebe is too innocent to see past his ill intentions.

— “I’m all ears.”

Must’ve been your imagination, or the rain messing with your ears. He seemed like a nice man, right?

“My girl, if looks gave heart attacks,”

— “You’ll make fun of me, sir.”

— “I would never, mein kleiner liebling. No need to adress me as sir. Just König.”

You poured out your heart to him. Your shitty boyfriend who just dumped you, left you here to rot after planning a whole date with you, giving you a half-assed apology of “I’m so sorry, I don’t have feelings anymore,” when really, he just got bored of you.

Tears pricking the corners of your eyes, your bottom lip quivering, your eyebrows creasing throughout the whole explanation.

Just one more word about your shitty ex would send you reeling back into a hot mess of sobbing and crying. You couldn’t help it, as the pathetic, naive, and desperate little girl you always have been.

König listened. He nodded along, adding a few words of “I’m sorry about that,” and “You deserve so much more than him, hase.” You knew he was speaking another language, but not sure what he was saying. It sounded sweet and comforting, so you appreciated it nonetheless.

His fucking blood was boiling. Not like before, when he was overheating with lust, love, and pleasure for you. No, now he was fucking pissed.

How your ex used you with his pathetic little 10cm dick, never gave you attention, barely ever looked your way? Slept with other useless dirty whores, all the while you adored him with all you had?

Fuck, he’d treat you so right. He’d fuck you just right as well. The thought of you with him got him hard, whether that be willing or not, friends or foes. He hated himself for the lack of control, but you were an irresistible little thing.

But paired along with that anger, was fear. You loved another man so easily, who was to say another couldn’t just sweep you off your feet? He couldn’t imagine you with another man, hand in hand, kissing, hugging, fucking. It drove him mad. Fucking mad with obsession and possession.

That’s it, he decided. Whoever was to lay a hand on you, speak a word of romantic affection for you, or even think of you romantically, will fucking face his wrath. He was a literal colonel, a fucking beast.

— “I’m so sorry that happened to you, liebste. Say, how about I take you out, a harmless little dinner? To make up for your shitty boyfriend.”

You couldn’t believe it. He was really about to take you out, after hearing your sob story of a ex?

— “I… would love that, really. Thank you so much, König.”

He walked alongside you, listening to you rabble on. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Hearing you say his name was enough, for now. But soon enough, you’ll be mewling his name over and over as he’d pound into you relentlessly, hot tears streaming down your face.

All he had to do now was take you on a little date, take you back to his place, and fuck you dumb.

Ah, after he cleaned up your ex boyfriend’s dead body in the basement of his house. Forgot about that part.

[powerfultenderness]

Death's Angel

Pairing: König (stalker/serial killer)/Fem!Reader

Rated: Explicit. 18+

Summary: "Please just let me go! I promise I won't tell! I have a wife! I have a child!" He's heard all the pleas before, but König is finally struck with the oddest dying wish he's ever heard. "Can you kiss me?"

Word Count: 22,480

Warnings:  Rape/Non-Con: Sexual assault, I do NOT go into detail on that part, but uh, it's there. Dub-Con/Consensual non-consent: (+mentions of rape/cnc porn). CNC as a coping mechanism, which (in this case) is dubious as it is not discussed beforehand. + Blood play, knife play, degradation. (Non-consensual) voyeurism (König is a stalker). Violence (König is a serial killer). Fluff (lol it's actually pretty sweet)

A/N: Based on [an ask] I got a couple of months ago. 4 parts in 1. [Read on AO3] for chapter divisions.

[Multi-fandom Masterlist]

[Death’s Kiss]

He cursed himself for getting distracted. But, as much as the military would like to believe he isn't, he is only human. And a particularly buxom woman overtly flirting with him had drawn his eyes from his target. He rejected the woman's advances (maybe he will find her later, there was nothing quite like fucking after killing), and went about searching for his target. Unfortunately he had to be discreet, he couldn't just push people out of his way, as much as he would love to.

He caught sight of a back exit and followed his instincts, they hardly ever led him astray, and took the chance that his target had left this way. He’d only taken a few steps into the dark alley when he heard sounds of a struggle. ‘What’s this?’ He followed the sound of a frustrated groan quickly followed by a “fuckin’ bitch!” and a woman’s scream cut short. 

König stuck to the shadows, plenty around this late, and slipped his sniper hood on as he rounded a dumpster. There was his target, a man in his thirties, with one hand over a woman’s mouth and the other holding a knife he just shoved into the woman’s stomach. 

Interesting. König couldn’t exactly say what drew him to kill certain targets. He just saw someone and decided. Sometimes he’d do recon, other times, like tonight, he’d just see what the night had in store for him. This was the first time he had come across one of his targets committing well, if the woman’s torn dress and the man’s hand now stuffed under her skirt were anything to go by, sexual assault and likely murder. 

König could understand murder. He might even respect it. But he could not tolerate rape. There were always one or two men in his unit he had to keep an eye on. Who were likely to take advantage of the women of a war torn country. Not only were those the easiest of his victims to cover up, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the higher ups placed them on his team on purpose. Let him deal with the troublemakers before they get out of hand. 

Why he should have contempt for one heinous act over another was also something he didn’t bother to think about. Thus he didn’t bother to think when he pulled his target off of the woman. 

-

Red. He’d forever associate this moment with red. Your eyes, which caught his for a fraction of second as he grabbed the man’s shoulder, were red, either from tears or because the man had hit you, or both. There was a bright red ribbon that matched the color of freshly spilled blood hanging loosely from your hair, spiraling elegantly down your shoulder before getting stuck to your skin with blood. Blood, dark red and spilling freely in some places, already clotting in others, almost looked fake. Too…pretty. Most beguiling of all, were splashes of red across your lovely white dress, from the top, which was now ripped free of your body, to the flared skirt.  

Red had always been his favorite color. 

The man was quick enough on his feet to regain his balance and pull out of König’s grasp, if only for a moment, as he reeled and threw a wild punch at König.

König caught the first easily, smiling under his mask, as the man’s eyes went wide as he realized how much bigger König was. “F-fuck!” 

He tried to yank his fist back, which König let go of as he hooked one boot behind the man’s foot. He chuckled as the man flailed and fell on his ass with an undignified scream. Before the man could get back to his feet and run away, König planted his boot on his chest and leaned down. 

“What should I do with you, hm?” König hummed playfully while leaning down and pressing his weight onto the man’s chest even more. He had been planning on taking the man to a secondary location, an out of the way warehouse at the edge of town, so he could take his time. But even now he was aware of a second set of eyes on him.

“N-nothing! You can have her, let me go!” The man struggled against König’s boot, and struggled to breath as König pressed down again. 

“Her?” He looked over his shoulder at you, hunched against a wall with blood slowly forming a puddle around you. 

You should have been crying for help, or trying to get to your phone that he could see a few feet from you. You should have been trying to save your life. But instead you were watching him. Your eyes were glazed over as your life slowly drained away, but you were watching him. No. You were watching him kill your attacker, waiting to see what happened. And a shiver of excitement ran down his spine. He never had a witness before…

Then he looked down again, “what use is a dead woman?” 

That’s when the man screamed, using what little strength he had to try to punch König’s leg. 

“Ow.” König deadpanned, but removed his foot from the man’s chest anyways. 

He let the man scramble to his feet, but when he turned to run away, König grabbed him by the back of his head, his giant hand making a viscous grip in the man’s hair, and yanked him back. The man screamed, hands flying to the back of his head to try to pry König’s hand off of him. König lifted the man into the air before slamming him face first into the brick wall in front of them.

Not even the muffled and gurgled screams could drown out the sickening crunch of bone. While still holding the man’s face into the brick wall, he turned to look at you, looking for the familiar fear that should be in your eyes. There was none. Again, you weren’t even looking at him, not really. You were looking at the man, weakly struggling against König’s hold. 

Hm. There was no fear in your eyes. But you were alert to…something. Too close to Death, maybe? He wondered what it would take for you to react.

Without even looking back at the man, he pulled his fist back for a moment, the man gasping for air through broken teeth, and slammed him back into the wall. It was at that point that the man went limp in his hand. Your only reaction was to cough, blood spraying from your mouth and down your chin.  

‘Nothing?’

Returning his attention to the man, König pulled the back from the wall again and with his free hand grabbed the side of the man’s face. In one quick motion he pulled and snapped the man’s neck. That earned him…a cough for sure, but, was that a laugh turned to a cough? 

He dropped the man and kicked the body over, making sure that he was really dead, when he noticed you moving out of his peripheral. You had wrapped both hands over the handle of the knife protruding from your stomach.

“You’ll only bleed out faster.” He raised his voice and turned his head enough to look at you again.

You froze and looked up at him as he slowly turned from the man to you. From where he had planted himself, he took  in more of your appearance, of your wounds. Your hands, now resting weakly in your lap, were cut from a blade and scraped up from the brick wall you were pushed into and cement below you, proving that you had at least attempted to fight back before being overpowered. There was a large gash below your neck and over your collarbone that leaked blood onto your nude chest. A shame, a quick thought crossed his mind, that such a pretty pair of tits is going to die.

His eyes followed down the rivulet of blood from your chest to your waist. Oh. Cherries. What he initially mistook as blood splatter all over your pretty white dress was in fact part of the dress itself, a pattern of cute little cherries. What a vision you were, must have looked like a little angel before you met your fate. 

“Hey,” you croaked out in a heavy, wet, sigh. 

Since it seemed to take so much effort to get one word out, he did you the favor of moving closer to you. Once he was near enough to you, his eyes drifted down to the knife. He didn’t kill that man to save you. In fact, it was his intent to let you die. He could finish the job. Do it quickly too, as a mercy. 

“Can you-” You breathed out another heavy sigh, attempting to curb a cough. “-kiss me?”

König’s eyes snapped up to your face, blinking and his head tilting even more as he processed your question. Did he hear you right? “What?” 

“I want,” you paused and licked your lips that were both dry but slick in blood. “My last kiss to be my choice.” 

Ah! He blinked once more as he looked at your pathetically small body and the puddle of blood under you. You knew you were going to die. 

He never had a witness to one of his killings. He also never fulfilled someone’s dying wish. An odd night of firsts. He dropped down to one knee next to you and nodded. “Alright.” What was the harm in it?

With one gloved hand he gently tilted your chin towards him and lifted the bottom of his hood with the other. His eyes slid shut as he softly pressed his lips to yours. He meant for it to be chaste, just a small peck to honor your wish, but the metallic tang of your blood slipped into his mouth, and he liked it. The coppery blood was tinged with a hint of what he could only describe as sweet. He had never tasted blood like that. His own was acrid in comparison. He wanted more. 

He leaned down closer and pressed his lips just a bit harder against yours, agitating the cut on your lip. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, gently sucking on the cut in your lip to draw more blood into his mouth and he had to hold back a moan. As tempted as he was to shove his tongue further, a pained whimper from you stopped him. He pulled away, licking his lips as he dropped his hood back in place.

You coughed out a muttered “thank you,” and sighed, like you were ready to accept your death. 

Too bad he hadn’t met you earlier in the night, he thought as he looked at you again. Then, and he’s not sure why he even tried, he pulled a knife from his belt and began to cut away at the top of your dress that was already hanging off of your body. “Remain calm, Engel.” 

Once he had a sufficient amount of fabric he pressed it around the knife wound. “Keep pressure here.” 

Your hands, small and weak, took over and despite the pained cry, you did as he said.

He stood up quickly and picked up your phone, or what he simply assumed was your phone. The screen was cracked but still lit up as he pressed a side button. The emergency number was just one press away from being dialed. 

He hit dial and returned to you, helping you stem the bleeding once more, and held the phone up to your mouth. “Tell them where we are. You might live if they’re fast enough.” 

You coughed out an answer to the operator, barely managing a weak “help” with a street name and the name of the club you stepped out of. 

You were unconscious by the time he saw emergency lights, but at least you were still alive. He remained with you as long as he could, daring even a few seconds too long, and slipped away before police and paramedics found you. And the body of the man who attacked you.

Even as König sat in his truck, forcing himself to relax, he knew it would be better for him if you died. 

He hoped you lived. 

[Death’s Touch] 

A week ago he met a dying angel with sweet and pretty blood. He expected the police to show up within a day or two. Even if he hadn’t shown his face to you, or done something so stupid as to give you a name, how many behemoth men with Austrian accents were there in the city? That simple description of him was the reason why he was careful there were no witnesses to his killings. That simple description was why he had considered letting you die in that alley. 

But the police never showed up. 

König frowned as he fit the last piece of the gun he had been meticulously cleaning in place. Did the police not show up because you…died? He waited too long to help you and now he’d never even get to know your name.

Of course, he didn’t know for sure that you were dead, and that had him anxious. He had to know.

A few days later, and an I.O.U to Hutch, König was able to read the police report from that night. He learned three important things. The first was that you were still alive. The second was that there was no mention of him, or even a rescuer. No description of a large man. No APB out on him. And lastly, he learned your name and address.

You lived in a modest flat, the worst thing about it was its utter lack of security. There wasn’t even a gate. It was too easy to find various watch points that looked into your flat. Or would have. You apparently weren’t in the habit of opening your curtains. Only a good thing, as far as he was concerned, who knows what kind of creeps could be watching?

For a day, he wondered if he had the right flat. He’d been watching all day and didn’t see you once. Just before his patience wore out the next day, however, food was delivered to your flat and he finally caught a glimpse of you again. 

That was it. The confirmation he needed. You were alive and for whatever reason you didn’t tell the police about him. Both good things. 

He could leave. He could forget about you now. 

…

It was two days later when you finally left your flat. Yes, he was still watching your flat, a sense of relief flooding him every time you opened the door for food. 

He followed you until you parked at a clinic. He knew there would be cameras all over the place, so he continued driving and didn’t pull into the same parking lot as you. Instead he drove to the next light, made a u-turn and parked at the drug store across the street. 

An hour and a half later he saw you leave the clinic. You were fast, one might even say you were lightly jogging. As he started his truck to follow you, he realized that you walked at that same speed when you left the flat. 

“Oh, my little angel. Are you frightened?” 

Too scared to leave the safety of your home most days, and barely leaving to see a doctor. Well, he couldn’t blame you.

A part of him was content knowing that he would be able to easily find you now. 

Just his luck, though, his leave was up and he had to ship out to a new base. Hopefully, by time he got back you would still be holed up in your little flat, safely tucked away for him.

-

By the time he was granted leave again, it had been four months since you were attacked. It didn’t take him long to find you again. Of course you were at home, and that morning he followed you to an office, then back home. A routine. Having a solid routine helped with his own anxiety, of course it would ease yours. 

The only thing that did surprise him was that from his old vantage point, and with the help of a scope, he was able to see into your bedroom now. Not a full view, but the curtains were cracked just enough. The weather had been getting better, had you opened your window at one point and weren’t so diligent with the curtains when you closed it? 

Blue light softly illuminated your room as you settled into bed that night. He could sympathize with you. He knew plenty of men who could not sleep without the aid of some kind of white noise. But as he watched you through his scope he realized that the tossing and turning he thought was keeping you awake was more intentional than not. There was no mistaking the way you were rolling your hips.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he leaned forward in his truck, as if that could somehow get him a better view through your window. 

His dick twitched when you turned to lay flat on your stomach, your hips rocking faster against the pillow (or blanket?) that you had between your legs. He thought about you in that alley, looking all pretty so close to death, “-kiss me?” and tasting so sweet. 

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your head hanging down but still turned away from him. Not that he could really make out your figure fully, his mind was filling in what he could not see. One of his hands dropped to his crotch to adjust his pants, but didn’t touch his semi-hard dick. He liked to think he had more self control than that. Until he remembered that little whimper you let when he kissed you too hard and he needed to hear you again.

Before he could stop himself to weigh his decision, he was already out of the truck and halfway across the parking lot. He was called a human battering ram, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be stealthy, or pick a lock. In fact, he was already trying to think of a way to get you new, better, locks since it was so easy to break into your flat. 

The lights were all off and in dark clothes and his sniper hood, it was easy to blend into the shadows. The place was small, the door opened into an open concept living room to kitchen. He paid no mind to furnishing, focusing instead on the light that emanated from the bedroom. 

As he got closer to the door, left slightly ajar, the sound of heavy breathing got louder. It was a sound that sent an excited thrum through his veins as he leaned against the wall and peeked into the bedroom.

In the time it had taken for him to enter your flat, you had switched positions again. You were sitting up on your knees, back towards him (the door, rather), with a blanket pooled around you and a pillow between your thighs. You weren’t wearing anything provocative, just a large tee shirt from what he could see, but it was bunched up around your hips just reaching your bare thighs. 

He could feel his body getting hotter, his dick getting harder, but he was trained well enough to keep his breathing steady, quiet. Fuck though, what he would give to see you from the front, or below. To have you riding his cock like that, your soft hands planted firmly on his chest as you were now bracing yourself on the bed. 

You let out a gasp, such a sweet sound that went straight to his dick, and arched your back, one hand flying behind you to steady yourself while the other pulled the pillow harder against you. He closed his eyes for a second, savoring your breaths, as he imagined gripping your hip, you’d probably cry out from how rough his hands were, but you’d like it anyway. He imagined watching his cock stretching out your little pussy while his other hand played with your clit.

When he opened his eyes again, he glanced over at the laptop (the source of light that he initially mistook for a television) but it wasn’t angled right for him to see what was on the screen. It was obvious, with the way you kept your eyes on the screen, though. There was no sound that he could hear, so he figured you were wearing earbuds. What kind of porn did his little angel like to watch? Huge cock, perhaps? Did you fantasize about taking a cock as big as his? 

Underneath his hood he had to bite down on his lips to keep from groaning, especially when you started to moan as you started to bounce and grind your pussy harder onto that stupid fucking pillow. He could give you something so much better to rub your pussy on. 

One of your hands snaked under your shirt to play with your tits, your whines getting a little louder and he squeezed his fists hard. If he touched himself now, he wouldn’t stop until he came, and that was a little too risky right now. 

Just as he was about to give in and stuff his hand down his pants, you let out a muffled moan, one hand covering your mouth, even though no one was (supposed) to be around to hear you. Your hips slowed down to gentle rolls as you leaned forward, slowly stretching out and riding out your orgasm. His hips jerked forward, seeking friction against nothing, and his eyes rolled back at your moan. 

Your little whimpers still filling the air only made his cock throb painfully hard in his pants. He remained still, watching as you slowly got up and moved to the other side of the room. Judging by the light suddenly flooding the room for a second only to fade when he heard a door close, he assumed it was the bathroom. He sighed, leaning against the wall, and took a deep breath, hoping to catch your scent. 

He quickly left while you were cleaning up, and took extra care to make sure your door was locked. 

As soon as he made it back to his truck, he tore off his gloves, shucked his pants down just enough to pull his dick out and spit in his hand. He leaned back, eyes closed as he recalled what he had just seen with vivid detail. 

"Mmm, fuck. Engel." He mumbled under his breath as his hand pumped fast strokes up and down his cock. 

He could still see you humping your pillow, still hear the symphony of your moans filling the air. He squeezed harder, rolled his hand over the tip of his cock and spread the ample precum down the shaft. He was so close already. His hips bucked up as he fucked his fist, picturing you bouncing on his cock. He groaned, your name slipping out of his mouth, even though you had yet to formally introduce yourself to him. 

His whole body tensed, his breath coming out in desperate ragged pants, as he stroked himself faster. A litany of curses, in both English and German, filled the cabin as he came. He continued to stroke himself slowly, with a loose grip, as he eased himself down, just as had. He even imagined himself burying his nose in the crook of your neck, or resting his forehead on your shoulder, making you whimper from lazy and sloppy kisses.

He finally opened his eyes, a spark of sadness in his heart as he saw nothing but the roof of his truck instead of the vision that was you. He sighed and reached the hand that wasn't covered in his own cum around the passenger seat to grab a few napkins he'd thrown there earlier. 

Once he cleaned up, as well as he could, he returned home. He just needed a few hours of sleep. He knew your schedule, he'd return later.

-

He arrived back at your flat after you should have left for work. He scanned the car lot to make sure your car was gone (it was) and made sure the coast was clear to break into your flat again (it was). This time he did take a moment to take in the space. Everything was meticulously clean, spotless, not even dust in high up places. He wondered if you were like this before the attack, or if this was a result of self isolation. 

Then he moved over to the bedroom. Just like the living room, everything was nicely in order and the bed was perfectly made. Excited warmth spread through him when he saw two pillows sitting on your bed. He slipped his hood off, hooking it in his waistband, and dropped onto the bed. He took a deep breath and nuzzled his face into one of the pillows. An incredibly intoxicating mix of perfume and detergent and you filled his senses and he hummed in delight. 

One hand reached up and gripped the other pillow, feeling the softness, about to bring it to his chest when he paused. He spotted your laptop on the nightstand and sat up. He picked it up, a tube of cherry chapstick rolling to the other side of the nightstand, and opened it up. He watched the screen as it loaded. 

No password? Well, he supposed that made sense considering you lived alone. 

Now, he tapped away, what had you so worked up last night? 

His eyebrows shot up, eyes a little wide, as he made his way through your browser history. “Oh, Engel.” He felt himself getting excited as saw various types of CNC and rape porn. “You still think about that night.” Honestly, he did too. 

Before he got too turned on, he made sure to clear the history and set the laptop back where he found it. Then he got up and straightened out the bed. 

If that was what you wanted, he would be happy to help fulfill your fantasies.

-

It had been four months since your attack. Everyone around you had been sympathetic at first. It was a bit overwhelming, having people you barely talked to go out of their way to make sure you weren’t feeling unsafe. It only took two months for them to move on. It was a blessing in that you felt like you finally had space to breathe, but now people were unpredictable, unwanted casual touches or getting too close to you, and it had you retreating back to your cubicle every time. 

When you declined invitations to go out, people would joke that you were being boring. Maybe it was time you moved on too?

The next time you were invited out, you agreed, on the condition that you didn’t have to go home to change. 

“Yay! That’s fine! Trust me, it’ll be fun!” Your friend and coworker said as she slapped hand on your shoulder.

You winced and moved out of her touch with the excuse of needing to get back to your desk. The rest of the day was thankfully uneventful and you soon found yourself at a new bar.

Thirty minutes in, once the appetizers were gone and the alcohol flowing freely, your work friends got to be a little much. You didn't want to drink, you were assured that no one would be getting drunk. That was wrong, of course, and you silently wondered if you were invited just to be designated driver and get everyone home safely. You were not going to do that.

It was easy to slip away unnoticed. You just needed some space and so headed towards the back where the bathrooms were. 

For a Friday night it felt oddly empty. Maybe because it was out of the way, maybe because it looked like an employee only area. Whatever the case, you’re thankful for-

You didn’t even have to catch your breath before you were suddenly pushed into a wall, a large hand clasp around your mouth preventing you from screaming. Fear and panic shot through your body as memories of the night you were attacked surfaced, fueling your struggle. Not again, not here, not with so many people around. 

Both of your hands pulled at the hand on your mouth and you finally looked up only to freeze. Even the panic in you seized up, unsure whether or not you were being threatened. Piercing blue eyes stared at you from underneath a black hood. The bleach stained tear streaks are a frightening illusion of humanity that you’re not certain is even there. 

“You!” Well, at least that what you tried to say, his hand still muffled your voice.

This man, the man who saved you that night, held you up against the wall, your toes barely scraping the floor, with one hand covering your mouth. It was almost the exact same position your attacker held you in right before he stabbed you. Part of you wanted to panic still, had your heart racing and breathing quickly. But another part of you was just…confused. He wasn’t doing anything else but holding you. If he had wanted to kill you, among other things, he could have done it back in that alley. Instead he saved you. He killed the man who attacked you. He helped you call an ambulance. He stopped you from bleeding out. You didn’t even say a word about him to the police. So why would he want to hurt you now?

You tried to calm your breathing as you stared up into his eyes. Cold blue locked you into place, but the danger in his eyes wasn't malice. It was something else entirely. 

Finally he lifted his hand from your mouth, you drawing in a gasp of air, and set you fully back on your feet. His free hand remained firmly planted on the wall beside your head, keeping you in place flush between him and the wall. Then he gently traced your bottom lip with his thumb, landing where a now healed cut once split your lip. Your heart raced, heat blooming across your face, as you remembered his kiss. That kind of intensity in a kiss, in any other situation, would have been erotic. Really, you had been on the verge of death and it was still probably the best kiss you'd had in years. 

You whimpered at his touch. He had been so rough even though he thought you were going to die and now the pressure of his thumb on your lip sent an arousing wave of fear through you. 

He leered down at you, eyes starting to dilate, "tell me to stop." 

With your heart hammering in your chest, it took a moment for you to register his words. What? 

You opened your mouth, no words forming, and his thumb slipped past your lips and grazed your teeth. You whined, which only seemed to spur him on, and he pushed against your jaw even more, forcing your mouth wider. “Speak up, Engel.” 

He was so close to you, his knee slid between your legs, rubbing against your core and pushing you higher against the wall again. You let out a shuddering gasp, your hands flying from him in an attempt to stabilize yourself against the wall, but you made no move, made no demand, to stop him. He rocked his knee up, grinding slowly and gently into your pussy, drawing a quiet moan from you. Your pussy clenched when he put pressure on your clit and you bit down on his thumb, hot tongue brushing against the invading digit. 

König grinned, though you could not see it, and chuckled. He leaned even closer to you, hood pooling over your shoulder and growled in your ear. “Fucking slut.” 

This time your gasp was cut short as he slapped a hand across your mouth again. He lifted you with ease, tucked you against his body and dragged you out of the bar through the back door, not one person seeing the quick departure. 

You struggled against him, hands flying to the one over your mouth and you clawed at him, you kicked your feet but he was so big and tall that he easily held you above the ground. He wanted to chuckle. You reminded him of a feral kitten caught by animal control. Just as cute, or cuter, even.

He didn’t drop you until he reached the side of the bar. There was a gate separating the dingy little alley and the parking lot, decorative trees planted near the gate. It was unlocked, he made sure it was before he approached you, but it still would still provide the illusion that you were trapped.  

You grunted when your feet hit the ground, stumbling forward into the brick wall. You tried to duck around the man, but he easily swung you back in front of him, pushing you against the wall, though he cushioned the back of your head with one large hand.

You looked up at him as you drew in panicked, quick breaths. Just like before, he leered down at you as if he was waiting for you to say something. You bit your lip, his eyes flicking down to watch as your teeth worried at your bottom lip. “Wh-what do you want?”

His eyes looked back up and slowly he lifted a knife you hadn't even seen him grab to your throat. You stilled and tipped your head back, attempting to get the blade away from your delicate skin. There was a scar on your neck that you usually kept covered up, but like this, it was exposed to him.

He traced the scar with the tip of his knife, “what do you want, Engel?”

You swallowed thickly, holding as still as possible so he didn't slice through your skin. And you didn't answer him.

He huffed, “do you want me to stop?” The knife dragged down the scar to the collar of your shirt. “That's all you have to say, my dear.”

As much as you tried to control your breathing, your chest was heaving, drawing his eyes down to it for a moment before he looked up again. That hood made it difficult to read him, but his eyes were so expressive. You knew what he wanted. The heat in his eyes matched the nearly overwhelming heat his large body gave off. The same heat you could feel swelling in your body. You swallowed again, your mouth refusing to answer his question.

“No?” The knife slipped underneath your collar and he tugged, slicing through the fabric. 

It was so similar yet different to the sound of fabric being torn apart and ripped off of your body. It was cleaner, sharper and the definite but soft scratch of the tip of the blade on your heated skin sent your pulse wild. He hummed as he cut open your shirt, revealing the plain bra underneath.  

You hadn't even realized just how hard you were breathing, how much your chest heaved with every breath, until his blade bounced on the swell of your breast and he sucked his teeth. “Stay still.” He growled out, eyes flicking up to your eyes and away from your exposed chest.

You bit back a high pitched gasp, holding your breath as he dragged the blade across your chest, until he reached the left bra strap.

You shivered as you heard the soft ping of the knife slicing through the strap. He once again looked up from your chest to your eyes, his own narrowing in disapproval. “Perhaps you want to be hurt, hm?”

You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to hold your breath again to remain as still as possible. He slowly moved the tip of the knife across your chest again, this time angling it so more of the edge touched your skin. Another ping and you flinched as the other strap of your bra was cut.

He was silent for only a moment, the flat of the blade resting near the middle of your chest, just by your left breast, every beat of your heart making it jump ever so slightly. You could hear his heavy breaths, almost feel them against your face, even through that terrifying hood. For a moment, in that silence, you thought you were safe. That he was done.

Until he quickly shoved his free hand up the back of your shirt and unhooked your bra clasp. You squealed, eyes flying open, and jumped as he ripped what remained of your bra off of you. You only caught a glimpse of his eyes, blown wild with lust, before he spun you around and pushed you face first into the brick wall.

Your hands, which had been covering your chest in an attempt to save your dignity, were now bracing you against the wall so you didn't smash your face into it. You shivered again, remembering how he killed your attacker months ago, by shoving him so hard against a brick wall that he lost consciousness.

The hand holding the knife came to rest to the right side of your face against the wall. The metal gave an unnerving scrape against the brick that caused another shiver to run down your spine. His left hand snaked around to grope your left breast. His large hand, hot and rough, cupped your soft flesh with ease.

“Such pretty tits,” he hummed as he pinched your nipple, drawing another distressed squeak from you as your nipples hardened under his touch.

Your eyes were screwed shut once again and you attempted to wriggle out of his hold. You pressed your body as close to the wall as you could, but that only made him close in on you more, his crotch now firmly resting on your ass. He moved his hand to grope your other breast and bucked his hips forward with a deep grunt, the hard bulge of his cock rubbing against your ass. You bit back a whimper as your pussy clenched around nothing, arousal starting to pool in your panties.

His hand traveled down, grabbing what was left of your shirt and tearing it, leaving it hanging open on your shoulders. Your body welcomed the sudden partial nudity. The air was hot and thick and it felt like a cool relief to be free of even the light cotton. He pressed his hand against your stomach, pulling you against him even more, and for a moment he froze.

All the roughness in his touch disappeared as his fingers gently traced the nasty scar on your stomach. You whined, not from desperate arousal but shame. After what happened to you, you should be trying harder to fight this. You shouldn't want this, no matter how deep down it was, or how hard you tried to deny it. You dropped your head against the wall, resting your forehead against one hand as you waited for him to finish his assault.

König growled at your reaction to the scar on your stomach. You had looked up at him with growing lust, as tentative as that was, when he traced the scar on your neck with his knife. But the scar on your stomach, evidence of how close your brush with death had been, had paralyzed you. You were too quiet for him to enjoy this. He wanted to hear you cry and whimper, wanted to feel you rocking your body against his as you had been only a moment ago. Most of all, he didn't didn't want you to fear him.

He steadied you with his left hand, his hand heavy on your bare shoulder, and used his right to rip the rest of the tattered shirt off of you. You gasped and cried, and not in the way he wanted to hear, as you stood facing the wall with both arms crossed over your chest and your eyes squeezed shut. Then he removed the simple field jacket he was wearing and draped it over your shoulders.

You froze again as you were suddenly enveloped in warmth and spun around to face your savior/attacker. He roughly pulled the jacket closed, deft fingers fastening the button that fell just over your belly button. You were still somewhat exposed to him, but the scar on your stomach was now once again hidden underneath a layer of clothing.

Your mind barely registered the glint of his knife before it was pressed to your neck once more. He dug the point of the blade into the scar, not enough to puncture, but enough to draw your attention back up to his face.

His eyes were narrowed, furrowed brows peeking beneath the crudely cut eye holes of his mask. If you could see the rest of his face, he would probably be scowling at you.

As much as you wanted to grip the jacket closed, you kept your arms stiff at your sides. One wrong move could open up the scar on your neck again. 

He leaned down, his face inching closer to yours, his blade biting just a little bit more. "Say it." His voice is half a whisper, half a frustrated growl. 

Your lips part, tongue darting out to lick them, but you remained quiet, afraid to give him the wrong answer to his riddle. 

He growled again and pushed you harder against the wall. "Say it!" He practically screamed, and his knife finally pierced your skin, drawing just the slightest bit of blood. 

You flinched, as fear and pain laced adrenaline rushed through your veins, to your core, your clit throbbing as the knife stung your skin. Unconsciously, you steadied yourself by bracing your hands on his sturdy chest. His eyes flickered down at the movement, at the way you were clutching to him and squeezing your thighs together and he grinned under his mask. Oh you were scared of him alright, and you wanted it.  “Filthy fucking whore.” 

Your gasp, perhaps a protest of his words, if you even understood them, is strangled as you find yourself facing the wall again, his thick jacket protecting your hands and arms from the rough brick. 

His right hand holds his knife against the left side of your neck, still pressed against the old scar as his left is shoved down your pants. You whine and gasp and squirm as he circles your clit with two fingers. He groans behind you and his hips jerk forward, the motion causing the blade to cut your skin some more, a thin trail of blood starting to stain your skin. 

You cry, biting your lip and dropping your head against the wall, at the mixed sensations, the stinging pain blending with the pure pleasure of his fingers slipping up and down, around, your clit.

He groaned as his fingers slipped further down and spread your slick around your pussy. You squeezed your thighs around his hand and he pants in your ear before shoving a knee between your thighs, preventing you from closing them. 

His knee between your legs pushes you up against the wall and your toes barely find purchase on the ground. “You want this, ja?” He says as he starts to rock your hips against his thigh as his hand continues to play with your pussy. 

His fingers, hot and thick, slip into you as his palm rubs your clit. “Ja.” He grunts as he sinks a second finger into you, slowly pumping them.  His fingers pick up their pace and you moan when he inserts another digit. He curls his fingers just right as he pumps them, drawing out whines that you try to quiet. You hide your face in your hands, finding odd comfort in the warm scent that lingers on his coat, and choke back a moan as your hips are rocked against his thigh faster.

He pulls his fingers out, soaked in your juices, and goes back to focusing on your clit. “Of course you want this,” he half chuckles and half pants as finally removes his hand from your pussy, strings of cum sticking to your exposed skin as he nudges your chin with the knife so your head leans back against his chest. 

He held his hand up, spreading his fingers to show you your own arousal. "You wouldn't be this fucking wet if you didn't want this." 

You tried to turn your head away, so you didn't have to look at those lust clouded eyes in soft darkness, but he tuts and shoves two cum covered fingers into your mouth. He hummed as he watched you gag on his fingers, at least he relented enough that you were no longer deepthroating his fingers. “Wouldn’t be fucking my thigh like a desperate whore if you didn’t want this.” 

You froze, as if just realizing that with one of his hands still holding a knife to your throat and the other stuffing your mouth with his fingers, the eager grinding of your hips on his thigh was entirely you. He laughed and rocked his knee up into your aching pussy, “don’t stop now.”

The drag of his knee puts perfect pressure on your clit and you whine around his fingers as your pussy clenches around nothing. “Keep. Moving.” He growled in your ear as he glides the knife down the old scar down your neck to just above your collarbone, a thin line of blood beading against your skin. It stings and your cries are smothered by his fingers and he rocks his knee up again and you slide against his thigh just right that the pain becomes pleasure. 

He moans with you as you start to grind down in his leg again, back and forth and you even do your best to bounce while your feet barely touch the ground. His hips start to move with you, his hard cock on your ass adding fuel to the fire that burns within you. 

He’s grunting now, everytime you bounce against his dick, and he drops his hand from your mouth and starts to grope your tits again, making your shudder as he squeezes, his grip is bruising but your clit still throbs, your pussy still flutters with every touch of his rough hands.

The knife finally drops from your neck and he holds it against your waist then leans down, the mask he is wearing falling over your shoulder and you feel his breath on your bare skin.

“You belong to me now, Engel.” 

You gasp and shiver as he mumbles darkly into your neck, head lolling back so you can look at him, but all you see is the black of his mask. His grip on you tightens, the handle of the knife pushing into your hip painfully, his hand fondling your breasts roughly, his thigh pushing up against your pussy pleasurably. 

His tongue, hot and big, laps at your shoulder in a smothered kiss before he bites down, his sharp teeth catching the edge of the cut on your neck and that’s enough to push you into orgasm. You pussy wildly, almost painfully, clenching as you cum against his leg. 

He hums, strangely gentle, and slowly rocks you back and forth on his leg, letting your orgasm fade until your wanton moans are no more than the occasional whimper. 

You stumble forward into the wall when he drops his knee. Your clit is still throbbing as you pull the jacket closer to you and hide your face in your hands. You’re mostly just trying to catch your breath and calm down, but somewhere in the back of your mind you still feel shame at the way your cum gushes down your thighs, soaking into your pants. 

You barely register the shuffling behind you until you feel his hands on you again. You flinch, expecting him to be rough, but his touch is gentle as he rubs your arms. “You did good.” He mumbles his compliment into your hair. “Let’s go.” 

You can’t exactly say no to him, as he easily swoops you up off of your feet and carries you through the rickety gate to the bar parking lot. You absently note how easy it was for him to push the gate open, but do not let your thoughts linger on it once he unlocks a truck and sets you down in the passenger seat. 

He’s kind enough to adjust the jacket to cover your chest entirely before he buckles you up. His hips brush against your leg and you break out of the dazed reverie when you feel how hard his cock still is. 

 “Where are you taking me?” 

The man, your…savior (you feel hesitant to label him as your attacker, even after what just happened), slips off the hood before he looks up at you. His hair is disheveled and matted down with sweat and even in the faint street lighting you can see a few scars scattered around his clean shaven face. His eyes, icy cold blue, the only part of him you could see before, shine with something…soft? Unexpected, certainly. 

“Home.” He answers and drops the hood in your lap before shutting the door and walking around to the driver side. 

You hold the mask up in your hands as he starts the engine. The bleached tear stains and empty eye holes stare up at you suggesting danger and pain and death, and safety.

-

When he said home, he apparently meant his home. You felt silly for thinking he knew where you lived. The place he pulls up to is nice. Much nicer than you expected for a man so dangerous, more importantly you supposed, it’s spacious. There was some good distance between his house and the last house you saw and that has your pulse speeding up as he opens the door for you.

He doesn’t even wait for you to move, for you to second guess everything, before unbuckles you and carries you inside. You want to insist that you can walk on your own, but you are sticky with cum and dried blood and honestly, he’s so warm.

When he mumbles something about cleaning up you just nod and let him place you in a shower. You only react when he strips down and steps into the shower with you. 

It could have been a sensual shower, it was certainly big enough and as you catch a glimpse of how big his dick is when it is soft, your clit twitches at the memory of it hard and rutting against your ass. But he is quick to wash himself, and though he spends more time washing your body (or maybe he was just taking his time to feel you up), it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. 

You want to tell him there isn’t really a point in applying that ointment he is gently spreading along the scar on your neck. It’s already healed to an ugly scar.  But he is so gentle as he bandages the fresh cut and rubs you dry with a soft towel as you sit on his very large bed. 

“What’s your name?” 

Would it have been better or worse to ask for his name before he fingered you in some dirty back alley?

“König.” He doesn’t give more than that.

“König.” You repeat and he looks up at you from where he is kneeling on the floor in front of you. “Thank you. For killing that man.” 

He hummed as he continued to pat your thighs dry with the oversized towel that was wrapped around you. “You didn’t tell the police about me.” 

It’s not a question. Somehow he knows that you didn’t tell the police, so you just shrug. “I told them I don’t remember what happened after I got stabbed.” 

His hands stop moving and rest on the outsides of your thighs, playing with the hem of the towel. “But you do remember?” 

You nod. “Everything.” 

There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence between you, his fingers start tapping against your thighs and he shifts his weight. The towel that he has wrapped around his waist threatens to fall loose and he uses the excuse to secure it as an opportunity to break his gaze with you.

“What you said back there, that I belong to you now. What does that mean?” 

This time he meets your eyes, “what it sounds like.” 

“...Does that mean you’ll protect me?” 

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” And he drops a small kiss to your knee, letting his lips linger on your skin.

You reach out and gently cup his cheek to push him away from your legs. “Can you be gentle?” König moves his face just enough to kiss the inside of your wrist. “Yes.” 

Whether he takes your question as a suggestion, or he simply decided that it was time to move onto other activities, he leans down again and places another kiss to your knee, gently spreading your legs and moving his mouth to your inner thigh. As he moves his mouth to splay a kiss on your other thigh, one of his large hands comes up to remove the towel on you body, brushing against your covered breast for just a moment before he tugs on the towel. 

You don’t let the towel drop completely, holding it tight to your chest, and he pauses his sweet kisses.

“Look at me,” he demands, stretching up and leaning against the bed, one knee between yours as he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. His grip is firm but not painful, not even close to how tightly he had grabbed you earlier in the night. 

Your eyes jump from one scar to another before settling on his steely eyes. “Good. Now,” he leans in closer, lips hovering over yours, “trust me.” 

His kiss starts off gentle before his tongue finds that spot on your bottom lip where it was once split, he nibbles and sighs as if he can still taste the blood that was once there. Your lips part when you feel his teeth and his tongue glides against yours. It’s slow and gentle and has you melting into his touch, dropping the towel that hides your scars from him. He wastes no time in tossing it off the bed, his lips never leaving yours even as he slides his hands over your waist to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.

You let out a little squeak at the sudden movement and he grins as he pulls away from the kiss, breathing against your lips. “Remember. Trust me.” 

You can only nod as he moves his mouth down your neck, placing soft quick kisses over the fresh bandages before he moves to the other side of your neck. His kisses on the juncture of your neck become sloppy, his tongue lapping at your skin like it is covered in something sweet. He bites down hard, teeth sinking into your soft flesh, turning your quiet little pants into a gasping moan. 

“You belong to me now.” He repeats his claim between gentle soothing kisses on the fresh bite mark he just made. 

You nod, accepting your fate, as you grip onto his shoulders. He hums and trails his mouth down your body, gently kissing the bruises that started to bloom on your breasts from how hard he groped you before. Your soft whimper, born of pleasure and pain, makes his cock twitch underneath his towel and he shucks that off too. 

He lays you down on your back and swirls his tongue around a nipple, enjoying the way you arch into his mouth. “Look at me.” He reminds you when he sees that you have closed your eyes.

When you look at him again he grins and playfully bites your nipple, laughing at the little squeak you let out before. Your giggles turn into a soft sigh as he moves to your other breast. His touch has you sinking into a cloud of lust. You want to throw your head back, close your eyes, and surrender to him, but you remember his order and keep your eyes on him.

You go tense when he trails his kisses down to your stomach. His eyes shoot up at you, making sure you are still watching him, as he traces the horrid scar with his lips and tongue. Eventually, with the help of his big warm hands running soothing touches up and down your body, you stop squirming uncomfortably. You’re still squirming, but for entirely different reasons. König notices and with a grin he pushes himself up, pulling you up with him and placing one of your hands on his stomach.

Admittedly, your touch and mind is drawn to the hard muscle, padded with a healthy layer of fat, flexes under your hand. You want to touch the rest of him, explore the rest of him. It is only after a second that you realize what you are touching. A scar. Raised skin in a jagged pattern, like someone attempted to twist the knife that stabbed him. You gently trace the scar as if you are afraid to agitate it. 

He senses your hesitation and laughs as he presses your palm against it even harder. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Engel.” Then he reaches out to touch the scar on your stomach, smaller and cleaner, but fresher and still tender if pressed too hard. 

You look down at his hand on your scar and yours on his. They’re almost in the same place. He leans forward and presses a small kiss to your lips and rests his forehead against yours. “I should be dead. You should be dead.” This was simply proof that were meant for him, he was certain of that. 

Who needs matching tattoos when you have matching scars?

“König,” you breathe out, though you are not sure what you want to say to him. Instead, when his eyes meet yours, you kiss him. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and pull yourself as close to him as possible. 

He moans into the kiss and, tender moment over, pushes you fully against the bed again. He slides down your body again, stopping only momentarily to place a soft kiss on your stomach before he dives between your thighs. 

You don’t even have time to act shy before he’s spreading your legs and swiping his tongue through the folds of your pussy. He’s quick to circle his tongue around your clit, drawing out a soft moan between panting breaths, as your hips move up to meet his mouth. He groans, the subtle vibrations adding extra stimulation, and practically nuzzles your pussy, nose bumping against your clit as he sinks his tongue into your quivering hole. No matter what you do, hands pulling at his hair tightly or thighs clenching around his head, it only earns more moans from him. He laps at your pussy, your juices mixing with his spit and drags his tongue back up to your throbbing clit. 

He locks one hand onto your hip but the other travels up your body to your breasts. True to his word, he is gentle with them this time. No bruising grip sending you teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain. Instead he rolls your nipple, pinching just soft enough that it hardens under his touch. He moves his hand and repeats the action with your other breast, reveling in every little whine and gasp he pulls out of you. All the while he continues to eat your pussy like it’s his last meal.

He has you so needy and aching that it’s euphoric when he slips two fingers into you at once. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, reluctant to let him go but the slide of him pumping into you again makes you gush. One of your hands claws at his hair, gripping his locks to keep you grounded, but the other holds onto his hand that had been playing with your tits. Unable to properly play with your tits now, he laces his fingers with yours, holding your hand as he pulls and orgasm out of you,

Unlike the first time he made you cum, you don’t try to hold back your moans, you don’t hide your face from him, though at some point as he ate you out, you had thrown your head back and closed your eyes from how good it felt. He’d just have to forgive you for that.

König rests his check against one of your thighs as he watches you come down from your orgasm. 

It’s not until he gently squeezes his hand that is still holding yours that you look down at him. Somehow the sight of him between your thighs, face glistening with your cum, makes you blush even harder than you already were. 

“Ready for more, Engel?” 

You blink at him. “More?”

He chuckles and pushes himself up, first dropping a heated kiss onto your lips, his tongue sliding into your mouth and letting you taste yourself. As much as he could spend all night kissing you, right now he had another pressing need to take care of. He sat up on his knees, pushing your thighs further apart to accommodate him, and stroked his painfully hard cock.

Oh!

Your eyes are drawn to him and widen. You knew he was big. You’d seen him soft and felt it against your ass, but seeing it standing at full erection was another thing entirely. It’s easily the biggest cock you’ve ever seen, not even your favorite porn stars can hope to compete. 

You sit up and reach out to touch him, replacing his hand with your own and you swallow thickly. You wrap your fingers around the shaft, your pussy clenching when you see that your fingers don’t even meet. Still, you give gentle strokes, eyes glazing over at how much of his veiny cock you can still see around your fist. He’s already leaking copious amounts of precum, that you collect on your fingers to slick up your next stroke. You lean down and circle your tongue around the head, a shiver running down your spine when he moans wantonly as you wrap your lips around the head. 

You moan as you stretch your mouth around his cock and imagine what it would feel like stretching your pussy out. You let out a little gasp for air when you come back up, going from sucking to licking his cock, just so you can reach the base of it. König moans again and buries a hand in your hair. For a moment you think he’s going to force your mouth onto him again, but instead he pulls you up for another passionate kiss. 

“Another time. I need to fuck you.” He pants against your mouth when he pulls away.

You whimper and nod and throw yourself back onto the pillows, eager to accept the challenge of his massive cock. You drop one hand to your clit, rocking your fingers against the sensitive button. 

König produces a bottle of lube from the nightside and slicks himself up. In the future, he can take the time to make you cum enough times to take his dick naturally. But he is eager to feel you now. Besides, you look just as eager as he feels, as you watch him stroke himself. 

He nudges your hand away from your clit and replaces it with his own, rubbing lube along your pussy and drawing excited pants from you. He dips a finger in you, feeling your pussy clench around his finger and grins. “Engel?” 

You nod, “please, König!”

He slid the head of his cock through your folds, your pussy throbbing as the slick head rubbed against your clit. You whined at not being filled but the way his heavy cock bounced on your clit already had you desperately begging. 

He managed a strained chuckle, holding himself back from immediately fucking you was one of the hardest things he’s ever done, and pushed the tip of his dick against your entrance. He used his right hand to hold your hips, and used his left hand to rub languid circles around your clit. 

You choked back a garbled moan as you felt him begin to stretch you out.  Your chest heaved as you rocked your hips up, encouraging him to keep going. You were whimpering, writhing against the bed grasping at his shoulders as he sunk deeper into you. He was so fucking big and barely got the tip of his dick inside of you before you pussy began to frantically pulsate around him. He groaned and forced himself to stay still, for both of your sakes. You looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears and drool pooling at the corners of your mouth, and he almost lost it. He promised he’d be gentle though, at least this time.

He grabbed the bottle of lube again and squeezed some more out on his dick before thrusting forward again. Your pussy clenched around him, squeezing him desperately, as he slowly filled you. Though the size of his cock stretched you beyond anything you’d ever felt before, though it teetered to just the wrong side of pain, you couldn’t get enough of it. Especially with the way his thumb kept playing with your clit. You cried his name and tried to grind your hips up. 

He slowly dragged his cock out, moaning at the sight of your pussy clinging to him, and started another agonizingly slow push. 

“König,” you started with a breathy whine, “faster. Please.” 

He dropped down to one elbow and nuzzled his nose against the side of your face, missing your lips as he tried to kiss you and simply licking at your jaw. He muttered your name hotly in your ear, your pussy quivering at the sound of his strained voice. 

He snapped his hips forward, burying his cock deep in you and started frantic, rapid, strokes. You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, he was so big and heavy and hard that your world was reduced to the pleasure he brought with every stroke of his amazing cock. 

He promised to be gentle, he knew he shouldn’t do it, but he couldn’t help but clamp his teeth down on your uninjured shoulder, muffling his own obscene moans as your pussy spasmed around him. His eyes rolled back in his head and his thrust became erratic, chasing an orgasm, as blood filled his mouth. Your blood was still so sweet, divine, enough to send him over the edge. His hips stilled as he cock twitched inside of you, spilling inside of you. 

You moaned, or screamed, when he bit you, leaving a second mark on you, and the string of his bite brought with it white hot pleasure. Hot cum filled you, your pussy convulsing rapidly, milking him and refusing to let go. 

He pulled out with a long groan, the two of you overstimulated and your pussy was still clenching around him, and collapsed to the side of you. He draped an arm around you and held you close to him, muttering something about angels in German that you didn’t have the faculties to translate at that moment. 

He was the first to recover, propping himself up on his elbows and leaning over to lick and kiss the fresh bite mark on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

You gave a breathless laugh and lazily pulled his face up to kiss you. “Don’t worry, I liked it.” As if the mind blowing orgasm that followed the bite wasn’t a big enough hint.

“Now, can you let go of me?” 

“No.” 

Your laugh was sharper this time, and it brought a grin to his face. “Let go, I have to pee!” 

He sighed dramatically and grabbed your hand, bringing to his lips to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Come back to me?”

Even as you pulled your hand out of his, you could feel the smile that graced his lips upon hearing you giggle. But at least he finally let you go. 

Your post orgasmic high wore off while you were cleaning up and your mind, having been clouded by lust since he grabbed you at the bar, was able to think straight.

You walked back to the room, feeling shy at your lack of clothing, and saw that he had changed the top blanket on the bed. The other soaked in cum, apparently. 

He looked up and smiled, bright and energetic despite how tired he was. “Engel, you came back!” He joked as he rushed over and pulled you into a hug. 

You kept still, but with his arms wrapped around you, you could do little else. He picked you up, much as he had done back at the bar, and set you down in the bed before he curled up next to you and pulled the covers over both of you.

“König?” 

He hummed as he nuzzled his face in your neck, inhaling your intoxicating combined scents.

“...I never told you my name.” 

[Death’s Promise]

“...I never told you my name.” 

König doesn’t answer you, only tightens his hold around you. It’s only when you try to shift, to put just enough distance between you that you can turn around and face him, that he speaks. His voice deceptively calm, if the way his arms tighten around you again is anything to go by. “I already told you, you belong to me now.”

You frown. That was no answer to how he knew your name. Or, now that you thought about it, how he knew that you didn’t tell the police about him. 

“It. It wasn’t a coincidence that you were at that bar tonight, was it?” You try not to stutter.

He doesn’t answer, instead starts to press his lips into the hickey on your shoulder. A reminder of his claim. 

“How long have you been following me?” 

His lips continue to move from your shoulder to your neck, stopping to nibble at your pulse point. You can feel the grin on his lips when your pulse speeds up.

Whatever he is making you feel, you repeat the question. “How long have you been following me?” 

“Go to sleep, Engel.” 

“At least tell me why.” 

“To make sure no one else touches you.” 

Well, it’s not like you wanted anyone to touch you anyway. And his touch isn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, really.

You should stop this. Get away from him. You knew he was dangerous, you saw it first hand, and who knows how long he’d been following you. Maybe since that very night you were attacked.

And yet, “...No one?” “No one.” 

That actually sounded kind of nice…

-

Work sucked. Mostly because of one person and the fact that you felt like you could do nothing about it. All you could do was race out at the end of the day and get home as quickly as possible. 

Home…It took all of a week for König to move you from your flat (he said it wasn’t safe at your old place and you weren’t going to question what he meant by that) into his house. Was it a rushed relationship? Sure. Was it a questionable, leaning towards dangerous, decision on your part? Absolutely. Did you regret it? Not at all. 

You let your frustrations out on a bunch of vegetables, your knife chopping through them and onto the cutting board with increasing force. You didn’t even realize how hard you were chopping until a large hand stopped your own before it hit the board again. You froze, König’s other arm wrapping around your waist as he leaned down to rest his chin on your head. 

“Careful, Engel. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” 

“Oh! König! I didn’t even hear you come in!” You crane your neck back so he could place a soft kiss to your lips. He does so with a pleased hum. 

His face is bare, a sight you quickly came to love. He leaves the simple mask he usually wears hanging in the entranceway. (His sniper hood he only dons when he’s deployed or when he’s “hunting”). 

“How could you with all that noise you were making? What did that poor carrot do to you?” 

You let out a sheepish chuckle, “sorry. Just thinking about work stuff.” 

You picked up one of the carrot rounds and held it up by your shoulder, where he leaned down and nibbled it out of your hand. 

“What about work?” 

You resumed your chopping, much less forceful. “Ugh. Nothing really. Just this guy keeps bothering me.” 

He tensed behind you, his grip on your waist getting tighter, not uncomfortably so, just more protective, as he growled out his question. “Has he touched you?” 

“No! Well, not like that…” The shoulder squeezes and lingering pats on the back were unwelcome, but, as your supervisor said, meant nothing more than that the guy was being friendly. “It’s really annoying to have to pick up his slack, especially after all of his little inappropriate comments.” 

König nodded as he listened to your rant, but all he heard was some man had dared to put his hands on you, even if you didn’t think it was sexual, and said something inappropriate to you. “Want me to kill him?” 

“Yes!” You giggle at the joke.

“Ok.” 

You freeze and turn around to face him. “Wait. I’m kidding.”

He smiles and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Ok.” 

“No,” you press your lips in a straight line. “I’m serious. You can’t kill him.” 

The way he tilts his head is far too cute for someone as large as he is casually discussing murder. “Why not?”

It had been a while since he killed anyone. Why shouldn’t he kill someone you hated? Two birds, one stone.

“Because he works with me!”

“Not for long.” 

You laugh and gently push him out of the kitchen and into the living room. Once in the living room, you make him sit down on the couch, having to resort to pulling him down for a kiss to get him to settle. His hands naturally fall to your hips as you straddle him, clutching at the fabric of the simple cotton dress you had changed into after work. 

“Now, you listen to me,” you start with a firm poke to his chest, only to stop when you realize you were still holding the kitchen knife in your hand. Oops. Knowing him, though, he probably liked you threatening him with it. You twisted around in his lap just enough to drop the knife onto the coffee table in front of the couch and return your attention to him. “As much as I want you to kill the bastard, you can’t.” 

He furrows his brows, and is practically pouting as he asks his question again. “Why?”

“Because, everyone knows I have a problem with him.”

“And he still works there?” 

You had to bite back a laugh. He had a point. You were not the first to draw unwanted attention from the guy. Why complaints from more than one woman didn’t lead to any disciplinary action was questionable. Still, you ignore his question and continue.

“When the cops find him dead, or missing, I’ll be a suspect.” 

König chuckles as he moves his hands gently up and down your sides, moving your dress higher up your thighs with each pass of his hands. “You? Little one?” 

This time you do laugh a little. “Let me finish!”

Schooling his face, he nods. “Ok, tell me how you will be suspected of murder.”

“Not me!” You answer with a faux exasperated sigh. “They’ll look at me and realize I have a hard time even hurting a fly. But one look at you,” you start to drag your hands on either of his forearms, fingers dancing along his veiny muscles. “My giant, strong, military trained boyfriend and they’ll get suspicious.”

His smile has dropped, either from your prediction, or the way your hands continue to tantalize him and move up his arms to rest on his shoulders.

“Even if they don’t find proof, they’ll at least surveille you for a bit. Do you really want the police looking into you?” 

For a moment he is quiet, no joking, even his grip on your hips is still. He can’t pretend that what you said is entirely unsound. No matter how careful he was to leave no trace behind, the personal connection to you would always be suspect. 

“So,” you lean in close to him, your lips hovering close to his. “You’re not going to kill him, right?” 

He averts his eyes and doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to lie to you, and your reason, while sound, isn’t enough to deter him. 

“König,” your voice is stern and you grab his chin and force him to look at you. 

“This man has touched you.” 

You want to roll your eyes. You want to pretend like he’s playfully overreacting. Certainly a couple of lingering pats does not warrant murder, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about König, at least when it comes to you, is that he’s intense. He is one hundred percent planning on killing your coworker just because he touched your shoulder. 

Your hands slide down his shoulders to rest on his chest, just above his heart where you clench at his shirt. “Promise me you won’t kill him.” When he still doesn’t answer you frown and press your forehead onto his. “I need you, König. I need you to stay with me.” Your voice wavers a little as you lock your eyes with his. “I need you to protect me.” 

“Fine, my love.” He finally sighs and captures your lips in a gentle kiss; he can’t stand to see you looking so sad because of something he might do. “I will not kill him.” 

“Good.” You nod and smile at him, and your smile is so brilliant that it is enough to sate his bloodlust. 

You lean forward again to kiss him, with all intentions to pull away and go back to making dinner. But his grip on your hips tightens and he holds you close and deepens the kiss. 

He smiles against your lips as you giggle when he doesn’t let you pull away. 

“I am curious.” You start, voice dropping like it wasn’t just the two of you in the house.

He hums against your lips then starts to drag his kisses down your jaw to your neck, grinning as your next words come out a little breathless. 

“If you were going to kill him, how would you do it?”

He actually stops and looks up at you, wondering if this was some kind of test.

You smile and give him a small peck on the lips. “Just hypothetically speaking, of course.” 

König licks his lips nervously, only relaxing when you take his right hand in both of yours and start to idly play with his fingers. 

“He touched you,” he starts and pauses again. You nod and give a little hum to encourage him to keep going. 

“I’d start with his hands.” 

You shift your eyes up to meet his before looking back down at his hand. You nod and turn his hand over, palm down in one of your hands as your free hand gently traces the veins on his hand. His fingers twitch underneath your touch and you sweetly smile at him, “keep going.” 

“I’d crush one of his hands beneath my boot.” 

You place his hand on the top of your thigh as you nod once again. You let out a quiet excited breath as he squeezes your thigh, his large hands hot against your skin. 

“Just one hand?” You ask coquettishly as you drag his hand down to the inside of your thigh.

He hums again, eyes locked between your thighs, at his hand slipping underneath your skirt. 

“I’d take my time with his other hand.” His knuckles brush your clothed mound, putting the lightest pressure on your clit. “Break his fingers one at a time.” 

You bite your lip and lock your eyes with his as you roll your hips forward, turning his touch on your clit from feather light to firm. 

His eyes darken, blood thrumming with excitement, and he can hardly tell what has him excited more, watching you squirm against his hand or sharing the kind of thoughts he long ago learned to keep to himself. The fact that he was sharing these thoughts with you, feeling your arousal dampen your panties, makes his heart beat wildly. 

He shifts his hand, turning it so that his thumb can start to rub small circles around your clit while his fingers dip into the edge of your panties. The back of his fingers slide against pussy, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit. You jolt and let out a small gasp at his touch, grasping at his shoulders to keep you upright so you can keep your eyes on him. 

He continued to tease your pussy, reveling in every little reaction from you, until you were a wet whimpering mess on his lap. “Then I’d smash his face in, for thinking he was worthy of even looking at you,” you moaned as he slipped a finger into you, “of breathing the same air as you.” He slowly started to slide his finger out, a smirk on his face as you rocked your hips forward.

“Maybe knock his teeth out for daring to talk to you.” He slid in a second finger, breathing a little faster as you moaned and fell forward further into him. You kissed him, tongue lapping at his lips before finding his own, as he pumped his fingers faster.

His free hand moved roughly from your hip to your breast, squeezing hard enough to draw desperate whimpers from you. He groaned and shifted to sit more comfortably, mouth dropping from your lips to your jaw, and pulled the top of your dress down. His lips capture your breast, tongue circling around the nipple, while his hand continues to knead and squeeze your other breast.  

Your head falls back and you gasp when he inserts a third finger, using his palm to rub your clit. He takes the opportunity to leave a surprisingly gentle kiss on the edge of the scar that peaks above your neckline. You shiver, despite how hot your body feels, as he pulls you closer to the edge. Your hips rock against his hand, your breath coming out in a combination of desperate pants and whines, every stroke of his fingers winding you up.

“But I will kill him with my hands around his neck, so I can watch him regret ever looking at you, as the life fades from his eyes.” 

Your whole body shakes as you cry out and fall forward, holding onto him with all your strength, as your pussy convulses wildly around his fingers, coating his hand in cum. 

König stilled as he watched you come down from your orgasm, panting and making cute little whimpers as he withdrew his hand. You were...glowing. It could have been the single ray of light coming in from a crack in the curtains illuminating your half naked body. Or the light sheen of sweat coating your skin that he was tempted to lick off you. But, he knew it was something else.

You had just come on his fingers as he described how he wanted to kill someone. You were truly an angel. A fucked up little angel sent to him by the god of death. If the military wasn't going to reward his skills, at least the universe had.

You shivered again and giggled into his shoulder before looking up at him with a smile. You hummed, squeezing your thighs together momentarily before sitting up and fixing your dress. You grabbed the discarded kitchen knife from the coffee table and planted a sweet and chaste kiss on his lips, as if he hadn't just finger fucked you to orgasm. "I need to finish making dinner."

He knew the moment he laid eyes on you, covered in blood and all, that he wanted you. He had no idea that he didn’t just want you, he needed you. 

He needed you. And he was just sitting there with a painfully hard boner while you walked back to the kitchen, legs shaky and making you lean on the walls and counter. He let you have a moment to calm down before bending you over the counter, ripping your soaked panties off of you and wildly fucking you. 

-

Not deployed and not “busy”, König's world revolved around you (and if his last deployment was anything to go by, you were his center regardless). He insisted on driving you to and from work. It was all great until you mentioned you would be working late one night. 

He went stiff and barely managed to get through his question without shaking in anger. “Will Christopher be working late with you?” 

You sighed, already dreading the late night dealing with your annoying coworker. “Yea, he's on my team.” Then you grinned, “maybe he'll see you when you drop me off and think twice before approaching me!”

König chuckled and leaned down to kiss you before slipping his face mask on. Honestly, he hoped that wasn't the case. He wanted an excuse to kill the man. 

That morning, of course, Christopher was late and didn't witness your incredibly large boyfriend help you down from his truck (not that you needed it, but he was ever the gentleman) as he dropped you off. 

You did your best to avoid Chris, but as the night dragged on, he became more persistent. 

“Someone’s a pretty little liar.” 

You sighed. You were already packing up, getting ready to leave, and he had to come and bother you one more time. “What?”

“I talked to Deb, and she said you don’t have a boyfriend.” 

Deb, the office gossip. 

“She doesn’t know everything about me.” 

Your phone buzzed just as you picked it up, a part of you was worried it was your supervisor, but one glance at the screen and you smiled. “And that’s him. He’s here to pick me up.” 

“I was just heading out, I’ll walk with you.” He clapped a hand on your shoulder and squeezed as he smirked at you. 

You stepped out of his hold and hurried to the door, confused when you didn’t see König’s truck waiting out front. Oh no. 

Your phone buzzed again, König telling you that he was in the far parking lot. 

“Well, where is he?” 

“Parked back there.” You gestured with your hand, from that distance even the truck looked small.

“What he can’t come get you? Maybe I should walk with you, talk to the guy.” 

You rolled your eyes and sidestepped his hand again. Whatever happened next was Chris’ own damn fault for being so fucking predictable.

Disabling the security cameras in the parking lot was easy. König sat in his truck, the temporarily distressed engine running idle, knee bouncing and fingers tapping the steering wheel excitedly. 

You hadn’t told him much about this Christopher, but from what you did, it was pretty much a given that he’d follow you through the parking lot. And lo and behold, König saw you and a man walking towards the truck. Every so often you’d take a side step and whenever König saw the man make the same step, closing the distance between the two of you again, his pulse just beat faster. 

Finally when you’re close enough, he jumped out of the truck and rushed to the passenger side. The sight of him even had you tense for a moment. Sure he was big, and the black tee shirt he wore did nothing to hide how muscular he was. But it was the sniper hood covering his face that made you pause. 

“What the fuck?” The man next to you muttered under his breath as you walked up to König.

König was fast to reach out and pull you to his side. 

At least he leans down to let you peck his cheek, though you got his chin instead, as a greeting. 

“Get in the truck. And don’t look.” 

You frown and pinch the edge of his mask. You’d only ever seen him wear it once. “I told you-”

“I know.” 

To Christopher’s credit, he was smart enough to try to get away as quickly and quietly as possible. König wasn’t having it though, and all it took was one giant step from him and he clapped his hand on Chris’ shoulder.

“Not so fast, hm?”

A shiver ran up your spine as you stood next to the truck. That cadence in König’s voice…

Chris tried to wiggle out of König’s hold, but his struggle only made König grip down harder. 

“You touched her-”

“N-no! I didn’t! She lied!” 

König’s eyes narrowed and Chris tried to stutter out another denial but was thrown into the asphalt face first, with a pathetic cry.

As Chris was trying to push himself up, König grabbed him by the back of his shirt and turned him around, pinning him on the ground.

Chris, a man who was in considerably good shape, still thought he had a chance to get away. He struggled, attempting to punch König in the ribs to get him to let go, but König chuckled. He then punched Chris directly in the face, a delightful burst of happy adrenaline running through his veins as he felt and heard the other man’s nose break underneath his hand.

Chris screamed, blood filling his mouth,  and rolled away from König, well, as much as he was allowed to. König stood back up, though remained hovering over Chris, who was doubled over in pain. After a few minutes, in which he shakily turned around and looked up, he managed to gasp out another plea. “Ok! Ok! I’ll leave her alone!”

“Good!” König beamed, his head tilted just slightly as he looked down at the other man. “But that is not enough.”

“W-what!” 

König grabbed a fistful of Chris’ hair and easily hauled him up and dragged him to the front of the still running truck. 

“I promised her no one would ever touch her again. What kind of man would I be if I let you get away with touching her?” Through Chris’ screams, he shoved Chris’ face onto the hood of his truck, the engine still running hot and burning the man’s face. 

As satisfying as it was to watch Chris get his ass handed to him so easily, things had already escalated too far. “König! That’s enough!” You shouted over the engine, over Chris’ fading cries and over König’s jovial laughter.

König froze and looked up at you, standing some feet away from the two men, and let Chris slump to the ground. “I told you to get in the truck.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you walked over to him, being careful to step around your barely conscious coworker. You looked up at him, his eyes were still wild, and his chest was starting to heave with how excited he’d become. If he had excess energy, you knew just what he could do with it instead.

You slid a hand up his chest to grip his collar, the fabric of his mask pooling around your wrist. He let you pull him down to your level and with your free hand, you lifted the mask just enough to kiss him. 

He moaned into the kiss, turning it heated rather quickly, his big hands on your ass and hoisted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

It was only a pained weak cough from Christopher that stopped you. You pulled away from the kiss, his hood falling back over his face, and grinned at him. 

“I think you should get in the truck now.” You say with a seductive smile and a gleam in your eyes that he couldn’t quite place.

He nodded and instead of setting you on the ground, walked around to the passenger side of the truck, kicking Chris one last time for good measure, before gently setting you inside the truck and rushing over to the other side.

You’re careful not to hit the gear shift when he slides into the driver side and you slide up to him, lifting his mask to the bridge of his nose so you can kiss him again. His hands grab at you, pulling you as close as he could in the cramped space. One of your hands clutches at his shirt, landing on his firm chest and the other rests on his thigh. 

He breaks the kiss just for a moment, his breath starting to come out in a pant, and reaches up to grasp at the edge of his mask, but your hand quickly grabs his wrist and stops him, “leave it on.”

“O-oh?” He stutters as you palm his growing erection through his pants. 

“I like it,” you say as you lean forward and drop a kiss to his shoulder, then another below that, following the hem of the mask until you reach just below his collarbone. Your hand that sits on his chest has moved to his pectoral, where you give his nipple a little pinch, sending a shiver down his spine right to his dick. 

“Hah,” he breathes out half a laugh as you start to unbuckle his belt, “you like it?” 

“Mm-hmm.” Your hand drops from his chest so you can unbutton his pants.

He swallows hard when you take his heavy cock out and with a firm grip you wrap a soft hand around it, as much as you could, anyway. “It’s. It’s supposed to be scary.” 

“Oh, it is.” You look up at him, hand lazily stroking upwards, “that’s what I like about it.” 

He lets out a quiet groan when your thumb swipes across the underside of the head of his fat cock. Whatever other protest about his sniper hood he had is forgotten when you slide down the bench so you can put your mouth on him.  

He’s hard in your hands before you even lean down and his thick veiny cock throbs as you slowly part your lips. His left hand has an intense grip on the door, but his right hand flies into your hair, though he shakes a little as he tries to keep it gentle, so he can have a clear view of you. 

You start with small, feather light, licks to his swollen cockhead, one, two, and he’s already let out a soft whine and starts to nudge his hips forward, his cock following your tongue as it retreats back in your mouth. You smile and hum, giving in and swirling your tongue around the tip before pinching your lips just over the head of his cock, adding light suction as you do so.

“Please,” he whines, fingers starting to tighten around your hair. “Please, don’t tease me.” The way he has slipped back into his native language, his voice pitched higher as he thrusts his hips upwards when you sink your mouth further down his cock, makes your clit twitch and you have to squeeze your thighs together to help alleviate your neediness.

You moan around his cock, tongue continuing to circle the head of his dick, flickering at sensitive spots, as you take him into your mouth as far as you can. You don’t deep throat him, not yet, so your hand makes up for it by adding firm strokes in conjunction with the bob of your mouth. The cabin is filled not only with moans but the sound of wet suction, especially when you pop his cock fully out of your mouth and give greedy sloppy licks down his entire shaft. 

König loses a bit of control and when your mouth envelops him again, sinking down as far as previously, his hand pushes the back of your head down even more. You had been expecting it, the tightness in his thighs, the way he whined even more and babbled incoherently, and even though you braced yourself, you ended up choking and sputtering around his cock. It only adds more spit, more slip to the already sloppy blow job.

You sit up a bit and take a breath, hand still stroking up and down, before you dive back down. This time you look up at him as you sink your mouth on his cock, your eyes locking with his, even with his eyes so dilated they’re so blue in contrast to the black material of his mask that nearly blends into the darkness of the night. His eyes are wide, watering even, and when he sees you look up at him, mouth stretched around his big cock, his own eyes roll back as his hips start to buck harder, faster. He cries out his impending orgasm, first in German though, for your sake, he remembers to repeat it in English as well. 

Not that it matters, you offer him an encouraging, “mm-hmm” around his cock, letting him know that you wanted him to cum in your mouth and it drives him over the edge with a loud obscene moan, shooting rope and rope and rope of cum into your mouth.

You swallow what you can, the rest sliding down the side of your face as you sit up for air. His eyes are still closed as he pants for breath himself. Since he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention, you get a mischievous idea and lean in close to him, and use the edge of his mask to wipe your face clean.

He chuckles but doesn’t stop you, only taking your hand in his when he feels that you are done. 

Most of him is limp against his seat, except for the grip he has on your hand, his knuckles resting on your thigh. 

“Hey,” you reach over and gently tug at his hood, to which he leans down just enough for it to slip off. “You ok?” 

He gives you a lazy grin, face flush and hair starting to mat down. He doesn’t quite answer you though, instead pulls your hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss across your knuckles.  

You smile and, blushing strongly at the innocent gesture despite the fact that you’d just swallowed a load of his cum, take your hand back so you could buckle up. “Let’s go home.” 

The ride home is somewhat odd. He hasn’t said a word since you had his cock in your mouth and that silence is a little worrying. It’s not until you’re back home that you finally break the silence.

“König? What’s wrong?” You stop him before he can retreat into the bedroom.

“Nothing, Engel.” 

“Then why are you so quiet?”

It’s almost comical to watch a man so big try to shrink away from your gaze. He’s squeezing one fist over and over, trying very hard not to twitch under your gaze.

You gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth, as you put two and two together. “Wait! Did you not like- Did I…Did I give you a bad blow job?”

König’s head snaps up. “What! No!”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“My love-” “Do you hate all my blow jobs?!”

He shakes his head vehemently and shouts your name, but you still talk over him. 

“Is it because I choke? I can’t help it! Your cock is just so big!” 

“No! My Engel,” he finally stops you with his hands on your shoulders, “I love watching you choke on my cock!”

You take a breath, forcing yourself to calm down and pout up at him. “Then what is it?”

He sighed and rubbed your shoulders for a moment before taking your hands in his. “I was just thinking about the first time we met.”

There had been a look in your eyes that night that he wrote off as you being so close to dying. But he saw it again tonight…

“Oh.” Your pout morphs into something much more stoic. “When that man…” You trail off, you both know what happened that night.

“Yea.” 

“What about it?” 

He glances away from you and chews on his lip before changing the subject. “Tell me, my love. Did you enjoy watching me kill that man?” 

“Yea.” You tilt your head, “why wouldn’t I? He got what he deserved.” 

He nodded. “Did you enjoy watching me almost kill your coworker?” 

This time it’s you that blushes and looks away. “Yea. I. I suppose being annoying doesn’t quite deserve that much violence, but…” what can you say? It was hot watching him so easily break the other man (oh and defending your honor too!). 

“And,” he paused, licking his lips, “did it turn you on?” 

Your face burns even more, “well,” you chuckle sheepishly, “that is why I blew you.” 

He frowned and dropped your hands, though remained somewhat hunched so he could properly look you in the eyes. “I kill people.” 

You squint at him, “yea…?” This wasn’t news to you…Why was he saying this? 

“Not just the man who tried to rape you. Not just in my capacity as a soldier.” 

Maybe you could understand where he was coming from. He never explicitly told you of his activities. You simply knew based on your first meeting and the way he spoke so casually about killing. “...Yea, I know…”

“I need you to know that, Engel.” 

You nod, “ok. Got it.” 

“But I would never hurt you.”

“I know. I trust you.” Which was a peculiar thing to say considering how just very recently you didn’t even know his name. 

Upon hearing your answer, König glanced away from you, face dusted pink and chewing on his lip. He was right. You were an angel made just for him.

You frowned, “what’s wrong?”

He was quick to pounce on you, giant hands on either side of your face and threading into your hair as he pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. He swallowed your surprised little yelp, his tongue sliding against your lower lip and teeth nibbling at a particularly sensitive spot on your lip before slipping into your mouth. 

He pulled you close, one hand solidly wrapped around your waist and the other pressed into your back, as you melted into his embrace. He only let go slightly when he moved his kiss to your jaw, down your neck, nipping at the scar below your neck. 

You sighed, resting your hands on his shoulders as he continued to sink lower, pressing gentle kisses over your clothes and dropped to his knees. 

He finally pressed a lingering kiss to the scar on your stomach, hands on your hips, and looked up at you, your name falling lovingly past his lips.

“You are perfect. Marry me.” 

You really didn’t think he was a marriage kind of man. You assumed that when he told you that you belonged to him, that he would protect you from then on, that it equated to marriage in his mind. But with the way he was looking up at you now, looking both very serious and very vulnerable, to him, this was more than that.

“Oh, König,” you reply softly, your hand drifting from his shoulder to cup his face. He leans into your touch and never breaks eye contact with you.

You bend down and place a soft kiss on his lips. “Yes.” 

He laughs happily when he pulls you into another strong kiss. He’s still laughing when he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. 

[Death’s Haven]

Your husband was a killer. Not some vigilante with a twisted sense of justice. No, he simply needed to kill. For most of his life, this need was satiated through his career in the military. However, now that he was in the private sector, he had more time between jobs. Which led to the current reason you were home alone late at night.

He'd been between deployments for four months now. Yelling at recruits and paperwork was nearly driving him insane. When he started disappearing at night, when he spent his free time in secret, you knew what he was up to. You didn't ask him about it. You just made sure he had dinner and a clean home to come back to.

You were already asleep in bed when he came home tonight. When you felt him crawl into bed, hands sliding across your waist so he could hold you to his chest. He was very tactile like that, once he had you, he always had to be touching you in some way.

You let out a quiet sigh and shifted to get comfortable, vaguely aware that he was only wearing his boxers.

"I'm sorry, Engel. I did not mean to wake you."

"What time is it?"

"Three."

You grunted. Much too late (or perhaps, too early). Though you supposed coming home at three am was better than him coming home at five only to wake up at six to go to work.

You yawned and shifted, turning around so you could kiss his cheek. "Welcome home." You sighed, eyes already closing again as you cuddled up to him and started to fall back asleep.

König hummed, his hand gently moving up and down your hip, slipping underneath the tee shirt that you stole from him to use as a nightgown.

His soft touch chased away your sleep as his fingers dragged up and down your lower back. You wiggled your hips, attempting to get away from his touch by pressing your body further into him. "That tickles."

"Sorry," he muttered, lips brushing against your temple. "I missed you."

If your eyes weren't closed you'd roll them. Your big, strong, serial killer of a husband was sweet, cute even, acting like you hadn't seen each other for weeks.

But then you felt his hard on pressing against your thigh. Oh. He missed you like that. Yea. That made sense. Even though he slipped in late at night or early in the morning to see you before you left for work, you hadn't had sex since he started his recon a few days ago.

You nuzzle against his chest and smile, "did you?" You slide a hand down his stomach and fiddle with the waistband of his boxers. "I'd never be able to tell." 

He groaned and pushed you onto your back, knocking your legs apart enough for him to settle between. His kiss is rushed, tongue pushing past your lips eagerly, while he starts to grind his hips into yours. You let out an airy gasp when his kisses trail down your jaw to the scar on your neck. A scar you were once ashamed of, once associated with a moment of indignity. König insisted that your scars weren't ugly or shameful, they were proof that instead of taking you for himself, the god of death had given you to him as a gift. 

“What?” You rolled your eyes when he first told you such. “Is he a king and I'm one of his kids he can just give away?” 

He threaded his fingers into your hair and pulled, forcing you to expose your neck to him. “I am your only King. And you are my Angel.” 

Your leg hikes further up his waist, one of his hands splaying across the back of your thigh as he ruts into you again. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling his face back towards you as you attempt to kiss him again, instead he opens his mouth to mumble words against your lips.

“There was a witness.”

And you froze. The only witness he’s ever left before was you. For a moment you’re worried. Was this another damsel in distress that he saved? Was there another broken girl in his truck right now, waiting patiently to become your sister-wife? 

You push a steady hand against his chest that he ignores and continues to suck hickey onto your neck. “What?” 

He hums against your skin, moving his kiss down, where he nips at one of your breasts through the fabric of your chosen nightgown. He mistakes the concern in your voice as concern for him. He returns to your mouth, an eager heavy kiss pressed to your lips until he pushes his tongue into your mouth that you respond to tentatively. 

“I killed him too.” 

His hips grinding into yours, with his hard cock teasing your pussy through layers of thin fabric, draws out a needy whine from you. "O-oh?"

He grunts, breathing quickening as he starts to push your shirt up. "That's why I'm so late, my love.” He was quite eager, it seemed, as one of his hands slipped underneath your back to lift you so he could quickly pull the shirt completely off of you. “There was a lot of blood.” He finished his explanation (not that you asked for one) as he nuzzled his face between your breasts. 

You wanted to giggle, both because his slight stubble on your bare chest tickled and how silly you felt that he basically just motorboated you, but with the way he was already licking and sucking at your tits, your giggle quickly morphed into a moan. And then you finally registered his words. 

A bloodsoaked König, with his sniper hood hiding his face, looked like a monster straight out of a horror movie. The thought of it turned you on so much. “Yea?” Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer to you as you lifted your hips to meet his, pressing against his hard dick. 

He chuckled as he sat up on his knees, still between your thighs, and tugged at your panties. You raise your hips enough for him to pull them down and toss to the side.

He leaned over you once again, propping himself up on his left arm, while his right hand found its way to your thigh again. You sighed as he all but had you pinned between his large frame and the bed. There was something frightening about his size, he was almost too big to be human, and yet he also possessed the uncanny ability to make you feel safe, no matter how vulnerable you were.

His fingers dipped between your thighs, his chuckles fading into a low groan when he finds how aroused you are. “You like that, Engel? Want to see me covered in blood, hm?” 

A gasped, “uh-huh!” is all you can offer when his fingers, coated in your slick, rock against your clit. 

König pulls his hand away all too soon, and the frustrated whine you puff out isn’t missed by him. You almost think he is going to tease you, that he is going to revel in the way you’re so desperate for him already, but there is a vulnerable sincerity in his eyes when you look up at him. 

“...Are you proud of me?”

Your lust is momentarily forgotten as you slide a hand to his face, gently cradling his face. His eyes closed as he leaned into your soft and touch. 

It was one thing to know that you accepted his proclivities, another entirely to know that you loved that part of him.

You gently run your thumb over his cheek bone so he could look at you again. You supposed you hadn't shown much enthusiasm for his activities since he nearly killed your coworker. You pull him down for a gentle kiss, whispering your answer against his lips. "Yes."

You even have a surprise for him, but the kiss that followed was much less delicate and much more needy on his part. It’s like he’s trying to mold himself to you, trying to fuse your soul to his. It’s as if he doesn’t want to let you go. And you give into him, forgetting about the little gift. You don’t want him to let go either. 

You’re so pliable under his touch, the way you so easily give your body over to him reminds him of the first night he met you. When you were too weak to stop him from ripping the shreds of your dress off of your body, too weak to stop him from moving your hands to stem the bleeding of a knife wound that should have killed you. The memory of your body, pinned underneath him now, covered in the sweetest blood has him biting down on your shoulder roughly. You gasp and whimper underneath him, only squirming not to get away from him, but to get closer to him. 

He drags his mouth down your body, trailing searing kisses along your skin. As always he pays special attention to the scar that dips below your collarbone, tracing the contours with his tongue as if he hasn't already committed every inch of it to memory. As always as well, he takes his time with your breasts, switching between rough nips into your flesh and gentle swirls of his tongue around the nipple. Every little hitch in your breath, every whine that pushes past your lips, alights his blood on fire.

His hips buck forward, seeking relief in the friction of his hard cock against the soft warm plush of your thighs. You whine, one hand resting on his shoulder and one tangled in his hair, as you feel the hot velvety skin of his cock rubbing the insides of your legs, pre cum smearing on your skin and you're not sure whether to pull him back up so he can stuff your pussy with that massive cock of his, or to push him down so he can lavish his attention elsewhere on your body.

König makes the decision for you as he continues to kiss and nip and lick his way down your body. He attempts to repeat the loving kiss with the scar on your stomach, attempts to trace it with his lips, but you become impatient and push his head, making him chuckle into your skin, which in turn has you also giggling.

He presses a lingering kiss to your pubic bone with a grin plastered on his lips, "so eager for me."

You huff, and make sure to exaggerate the little pout you throw at him. "Don't tease. It's been too long."

This draws another chuckle from him, though he spreads your thighs further apart so he can comfortably fit between them. "Less than a week, my angel."

You prop yourself up on one elbow and reach for his face, forcing him to look at you as you hit him with a trembling lip and the saddest eyes you could muster in the moment. "You promised to take care of me, König."

He stills at your words, muscles tense and eyes so wide that even in the dim light you could see the whites of his eyes. You were right, of course. How could he deny his sweet angel what you desperately wanted, needed? Especially when it was him that you needed. He gently places a hand over yours, never breaking eye contact with you, as he pulls your hand from his face and gently kisses the inside of your wrist, taking your little teasing to heart. “I will.” 

That is all the warning you get before he is diving between your thighs. His breath is hot on your skin as he kisses and licks his way towards your pussy. He doesn't ignore any part of you, his left hand both massaging your inner thigh, kneading at the sensitive flesh and keeping your legs parted wide enough for him.

By the time he draws his tongue through your folds, you're already a quivering mess. His long, deliberate, slow licks have you moaning and gripping his hair. His right arm anchors your hips to the bed, keeping you in place as his tongue circles your clit. You try to muffle the obscene moans that fall from your lips, but König knows you, knows what you like, and drags his tongue down your slit, curls his tongue inside of you to lap at you juices. His own moans fill the air with yours, the subtle vibrations only driving you crazier.

His name is a chant on your lips, your hands gripping his hair even more as you try to fuck his face. He groans and releases the iron grip he has on your hips, right hand snaking up to your chest where he roughly gropes at your tits.

He holds you down for your sake, so he can lick and suck and nip without losing his place between your legs. But as you near your edge, he lets go because there's nothing he loves more than when you shove your pussy into his face. His mouth parted, tongue dragging over every inch of you and pushing into your pussy. His nose bumps and rubs against your clit as he enthusiastically moves his head, his stubble scratching pleasantly against the inside of your thighs.

He could, and probably should, stretch you out a little with his fingers, prepare you for the girth that is his cock, but he’s selfish and wants you to come on his tongue. He switches his pace, frenzied flicks of his tongue on your clit, followed by long firm strokes through your folds until he pushes his tongue into your pussy. He moans again, savoring the ambrosia that he pulls from you with every swipe of his tongue. 

It’s when he starts to rock his hips into the bed, seeking to relieve his aching cock, that it feels like a final wave pushing you to your orgasm. Your thighs squeeze around his head as you pussy clenches wildly around his tongue, aching to be filled and stretched out even more. He continues to slurp at your pussy, his tongue covered in your cum as he gently offers small and gentle licks to your clit, following the movement of your hips without holding you down. 

König is liable to spend too much time between your legs. Liable to ease you down from your orgasm only to pull another one from you. And you’re liable to forget that you were supposed to give him his gift before fucking.

“S-stop! I! I!” You cry and whine and try to push his face away from your oversensitive clit. 

With a grunt, he finally relents and drops a few soft kisses to your thigh before propping himself up on his elbows and running the back of his arm across his face. “What is it, Engel?” 

After a moment to catch your breath, you finally look at him and smile softly at the way he's looking up at you so adoringly. "I have something for you."

A grin breaks out across his face as he kisses your thigh and moves as if he's about to start eating you out again.

"Not that!" You laugh and lightly push his face away from your still sensitive pussy. "Come here," you pat the bed next to you, inviting him to sit down for a moment.

"I got you something," you say as you give him a quick peck to the lips when he sits down beside you.

His hand slides to your waist and you know he's about to pull you on top of him, but you pull away quick enough to turn to the nightstand and flip on the lamp.

There’s some shuffling beside you as you open the drawer. The first thing your hand catches is a bottle of lube, that’s not what you were looking for, but you set it on the table anyways.

One of his hands lands on your thigh and squeezes as he leans with you, his mouth dropping small kisses to your shoulder. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Oh, I guess not.” You say as you put a rectangular box on top of the side table and turn to face him again.

He’s shucked his boxers off, instead of shoving his dick through the opening in front, and has his left hand holding the heft of his hard cock. Your eyes drop down to the wide pink mushroom head and immediately forget that you had been trying to gift him something. 

His right arm wraps around your waist as you kiss him and he pulls you atop one of his thighs. You whimper into his mouth as you grind down on his thigh, your already slick pussy making the glide easier and the friction electrifying. Even as you rock your hips back and forth, one of your hands wraps around his cock, next to his own hand. You both groan at the contact, Him at the way you swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock, collecting pre cum and spreading it over down as you give him sensual little pumps. You groan as you and your pussy clenches achingly at the reminder of how big his cock is, the way there’s enough length for the both of you to stroke down, and the way your fingers don’t even meet around his girthy width. 

As you rest your forehead against his, lip tucked between your teeth as you continue to ride him, you notice his eyes flicker to the side table for just a second.

“You want to see it?” You ask with a breathless laugh, still chasing the pleasure grinding down on his thigh offers. 

He grabs the hand you have wrapped around his cock and makes you squeeze him harder, speaking with a groan as he thrusts his hips up. “Just tell me what it is.” 

“And ruin the surprise?” 

He grunts and grabs your hips, halting your gyrating, while simultaneously smashing his mouth against yours. The kiss is rough, aggressive even, as his tongue tangled with yours, preventing you from further teasing him. Still you moan and giggle into the kiss and blindly reach behind you until you find the box.

“Just open it real quick.” 

He sighed and reluctantly let go of your hips as he took the box from you. “What is the occasion?” 

The real reason? You wanted him to remember you. You were afraid you were nothing but a novelty to him. He wanted you for now, but soon he’d get bored of you and send you away. If you were lucky, he’d kill you, but you were never that lucky in life. He’d provide a safe home for you, make you feel safe standing next to him at the grocery store, or as he picked you up from work. Then he’d leave you, leave you fearing every shadow and bump in the night. To live in the hell that was his absence. 

“A hunting knife?” He unsheathed it, admiring the sheen and sharpness of the hooked blade.

It was deadly sharp, meant for skinning game. It wasn’t anything fancy. Perfectly utilitarian. 

You hummed and stretched out again, this time to grab the bottle of lube you set aside earlier. “You’re the one that asked me if I am proud of you.” You pour some lube into one of your hands, “I was thinking about what you do, and thought you might like this.” You wrap your hand around his cock, spreading the lube along his thick shaft, “at the very least it can make a cute paperweight for your desk.” 

König groans and shuts his eyes, leaning forward to rest his head against your shoulder, as you pump his now very slick cock. His hot breath fans over your skin as he mutters your name and nips at your shoulder. But he pauses when you lean to the side and expose the top of your scar to his mouth.

Suddenly he pulls away from you and looks back at the gifted blade. “You wanted to see me covered in blood, Engel.” 

It’s not a question, though you give him a quiet little “mm-hm" before you’re sitting stock still with a blade pressed against your throat. His cock throbs in your hands as your eyes flick up to meet his. His eyes, blown wide with lust, flicker between your own gaze and the knife he holds to your throat. 

“I have never seen blood as beautiful as yours.” 

Your heart thumps in your chest, and pussy, at his words. Did he think of your blood often? Did he still think of that night? 

You squeeze your hand, giving a tantalizing grip to his cock, and tilt your head to the side, whispering a loving taunt. “It belongs to you.” 

You see droplets of blood splatter across his face before you feel the sting of your flesh sliced open. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, as pain catches up to you. There’s a clatter of the knife being tossed onto the nightstand before you feel his large hands digging into your hips and moving you so that you are fully straddling him. 

The head of his cock slides through your folds before nudging your clit and sends a wave of pleasure through you that distracts from the pain. You whimper and shudder when you open your eyes to see the look on his face. You imagine that this is what he looked like the night he saved you, but now you see him unmasked, see how the sight of you bleeding before him is nearly driving him insane. 

König moaned when he felt the first drop of blood hit his face, his cock jumping out of your hand and pulsing wildly. Your pained little gasp that followed did not assuage his desire, if anything it fueled it even more. He quickly discarded the knife and pulled you over him, his lubed up cock running along your slick pussy drawing moans out from both of you. 

He looked up at you, lost in bliss as you rocked your hips into him, rubbing your clit onto his cock, and snaked a hand into your hair to pull you down. He breathed in the air around you, filled with the scent of your combined arousal and sweat and, as he pushed his face into your skin, the light coppery scent of your blood. 

You whined again when he disturbed the cut on your neck, the fresh wound following the exact path of the previous one, only to cry out when he drug his tongue through the blood. 

“You have the sweetest blood, my angel.” 

And with a quick, rough, grip to the back of your head, he pulled you into a searing kiss. His tongue immediately found yours as if he was intent to share the taste of you, of your blood and cum. 

His face is smeared in blood when you pull away from his hungry kiss and look at him again. You rest your forehead against his and pant for breath, eyes locking with his as he lifts your lips and properly lines his cock up. 

You whimper when you feel the head of his cock start to spread you, but even his lust filled haze he’s aware enough of himself to go slowly, letting you sink down onto his girthy length at your own pace. 

“König,” you cry when you take him fully, your entire body hot and desperate to be close to him. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, his face tucked into your neck as you start to move your hips up, sliding back down with a moan as he fills you. 

He’s not quiet when your pussy squeezes and pulses around his cock, it feels too good to hold in the moan that rips out of his throat when you start to bounce on his cock. Slick. Your blood and sweat against his skin, your wet pussy around his cock, it’s all heavenly slick and he wants more. He groans and roughly guides your hips down to meet his own thrusts. You cling to him and moan as he easily lifts you only to slam you back down.

“My angel,” he growls hotly into your ear, his eyes rolling back when your pussy flutters tightly around his cock. 

He’s quick to shift positions, cradling the back of your head as he throws you onto your back. You only get to mourn the loss of his cock inside you for a moment before he is throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and bullying his cock back into your pussy.

The new angle allows him impossibly deeper, your moans are so loud you’re nearly screaming at this point. He moans loudly along with you when he glances down between your bodies and sees as he feels how your pussy clings to his cock, doing its best to not let go of him every time he pulls out. 

Your pussy aches and gapes when he pulls all the way out, slipping and accidentally brushing the head of his cock over your clit. You cry out, from the sensation of his slicked cockhead on your clit and for him, even this second without him filling you up is too long without him. You hook the leg he doesn’t have over his shoulder over his waist as he thrusts his cock back into you. It feels like he hits every nerve in your pussy, his pelvis grinding against yours and rubbing your clit and you can’t even say his name as your entire body begins to shake. 

Your orgasm is overwhelming, you claw and grab at König, yet at the same time the consistent grinding of his pelvis on your clit and his huge cock pistoning in and out of you has part of you wanting to push him away. He doesn’t let you, instead he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, chasing his own release. 

König’s head drops to your shoulder, chin hitting the cut on your neck, and groans loudly as you come on his cock, your pussy clenching around him dizzyingly tight. He growls and groans when you begin to struggle against him, sending him over his own edge. He breathlessly stills as his cock throbs, filling you with his cum as your pussy continues to clench around his cock. 

Eventually his hips slow down to a slow, sensual, grind, meeting your hips in the lazy aftermath. He drops your leg from his shoulder and braces himself on his forearms while he continues to nuzzle his face into your neck, sloppy open mouth kisses licking up blood and sweat.

“König,” you sigh and nudge him. He may be holding most of his weight off of you, but he’s still crushing you into the mattress and at this point it’s so hot that it’s starting to become difficult to breathe.

He grunts, his cock giving a final pulse as he pulls out, and rolls to the side. His hand lands heavily on your thigh, “give me a moment, Engel, and I will clean you up.” 

You whine at the sudden empty feeling and, with considerable effort, turn on your side and cuddle up to him, moving his arm around you. He embraces you, eyes closed as he basks in his post orgasmic bliss. 

“You look like a vampire.” You say with a light chuckle and brush a thumb across his chin.

He grins and opens one eye to look at you, “if I could live off of your blood, Engel, I would.” 

Your laugh is cut short with a grimace as you feel his cum leak out of your pussy. “Ok, I need to get up.” 

He sits up with you and pulls you into his lap before standing. “Let me.”

“You don’t always need to carry me to the bathroom!” 

“Can you walk?” 

Actually, probably not. 

König leaves the shower first, letting you relax under the hot water a little longer while he changes the sheets on the bed. There was too much cum, sweat and blood to ignore for the night. 

He’s waiting patiently for you when you finally get out of the shower. He’s thoughtful enough to lay one of his shirts out on the clean sheets for you to wear when he’s finished bandaging you up. 

“It’s not even that bad,” you say as you let him apply an ointment and a gauze bandage on the cut that’s barely bleeding anymore. 

He doesn’t really respond, just grunts and makes sure to secure the bandage properly before he turns around to set everything down on the nightstand. 

“Ah! König!” You gasp and slap a hand over your mouth when you see long scratch marks on his back, small beads of blood surfacing on his skin.

“What!” He turns quickly, eyes wide, afraid that he hurt you.

“I’m so sorry!” You squeak out behind your hand.

“What?” 

You hang your head and hide your face in your hands. “Your back is bleeding!”

“What?” He cranes his neck to look at his own back. 

“How embarrassing,” you mumble to yourself as you take the towel that’s wrapped around you and dab the bit of blood off of him.

His chuckles turn into a laugh, a full loud sound deep from his belly, as you fuss over him. He barely lets you touch his back before he is reaching behind him and pulling you onto his lap.

He stops your protests with a kiss, a smile still pulling at his lips even as he runs his tongue over your lips. “I cut you with a hunting knife, Engel, and you’re worried about little scratches?”  

“Fine,” you hum and pull away from him enough to slip on the tee shirt he laid out for you. “But if it scars, it’ll be the least cool story you’ve got.”

He turns off the lamp as you climb under the blankets. “I disagree. It’ll be my favorite. Next time, I will make you scratch my back even more.” 

König grinned at your little laugh as you settled into his embrace for the night. No, you didn’t hurt him and no he didn’t mind a tiny bit of blood spilled. He’d drown in your blood if he could, how could he not offer you the same? 

[chorizoa]

entrail of faith — könig x reader

i have not properly written a fic or a snippet in so long, and I am physically aching to do so :3 plus, been obsessed with this man for like 3 months straight and it is NOT letting up— so, let me be indulgent, and nasty, and vile, and awesome while I cook up literary genius. (pls do not read my stuff if ur a minor ily mwah)

i hope u like :3 (cuz if u do I'm writing more)

cw: mentions of sex, force, and kidnapping, reader is mostly oblivious, Konig is just nasty and I'm shameless about it

synopsis(sorta): König has been a little crazy stalker, and you finally get close enough for him to make a move

———————————————————————

Konig was a good man, a routine man. His mother and grandmother had beaten manners into him, and daddy had his face shoved into a bible every Sunday morning. Everything was intentional, down to the way he stored his razors, all the way deep down to the way he shamefully ruts into his calloused palm each night. It all mattered— obsessively mattered.

Konig was a good man, a strong man. He tried so hard to keep his thoughts pure, be gentle with himself and others— lumbering about as if he were an animal latched to a ball and chain, a monster in the eyes of rookies and civilians alike— but he tried.

He can kill a man in less than ten seconds without a weapon, five with. He can dismember a corpse, and make someone seem as if they had never existed to begin with— he isn't a man of softness, he isn't a man who deserves a gentle hand, only his own thick mits that've been stained with decades of blood.

He wasn't  a man of softness—until he saw you. Effortless you. With your smile, the flowery trail of scent that tickled his nose in your wake, those fucking eyes— Konig tried to be a good man, but he wanted to so badly see them glossed over, heavy with arousal and desperation. How they'd roll when he—

Konig tried to be a good man.

— Sir? Are you ready to order?

Scheiße. Those eyes again, the way they fluttered— it was almost enough to distract him from the way that dingy little waitress get-up clung to your all-encompassing frame— and hearing the word sir  so obediently drip from your swelled lips made his cock twitch in his pants. Thank God he'd opted for the cargos today, and thank him again because you were such a good girl, you'd never peek.

Not that you'd have a chance, he loomed over you even at seated height— forcing your eyes up to meet his, seeming just much too big for the booth he shoved himself in— but, he was still shameless in the way his eyes roamed over you. At least you had the assurance he'd tip well.

— Ah- Ja, sorry Kätzen..

He cleared his throat, nervously tugging at the lip of his black surgical mask, his eyes darting about behind thick sunglasses. You're so pretty— what was he doing again? Ah, right, food. He wasn't hungry, not for anything they had here, except for you— but that wouldn't be a suitable answer, no, not for a precious little thing like you.

He could practically taste the aura that rolled off of you, you were no whore.

— Coffee- black, please. If it's not too much trouble.

Of course it wasn't too much trouble, it was your job. He was cursing himself internally, saying such stupid things to such a lovely girl. It would be easier if you were stuffed with his girth already, crying and spluttering as you struggled to fit him properly— he wouldn't say stupid shit then, but then you giggle- oh, fuck, you giggle and all the sudden he needs a freezing cold shower.

— Of course not, sir, will that be all?

Sweet girl, you should know not to smile at a man like that. Not a man like him, especially when his mind is full of bending you over this table and ruining that pretty head of yours.

— Yes, thank you, schätzchen.

He hoped you didn't know German, he hoped you were oblivious enough to let the way he was ripping your clothes to shred with his eyes go unnoticed— and of course, because you're such a good girl, it did.

— My pleasure- I'll be back in just a moment.

You are so polite, so sweet and efficient. He'd been watching you for a time now, the way you'd bustle about the café, being so kind even when majority of the creatures in here didn't deserve your time of day, not like he did— no, not anything like he did.

If he had it his way, you'd never work again. He'd throw money at you like it was a religion, give you all the codes and numbers to every bank account in his name— let you go on a spending spree, spoil you with fine lace and even better food. KorTac paid him enough, and he didn't spend a dime unless he needed something— unless he was indulging in you.

If he had it his way, you'd be dumb and obedient, you'd placate yourself to being his sweet little toy— and, oh, how he'd reward you for it. He'd keep you full of his seed, and happy with whatever object caught your affections, he'd build a goddamn castle for you. He'd never deny you a thing, as long as you kept looking at him like the most important person to exist— even if you were just doing your job.

— Your coffee, sir— oh, and careful, I just had them brew it.

Oh, you're such a darling. Fresh coffee? Just for him? You might as well give him your ring size now, he hopes you want kids.

— Lovely, Schatz, thank you.

— Of course, enjoy.

He almost felt crestfallen as you placed the bill next to him, and sauntered away, but your swaying hips could heal even the most shattered bones. Angels above, you were such a perfect thing— so innocent and lovely, you'd need to be protected, you'd need to be saved.

The heat of the coffee was nothing compared to the widely gaped blood vessels under his skin— breath threatening to catch everything he got a glimpse of you traipsing about. He had to make sure you were well distracted every time he dove in for a sip, you couldn't see his face, not yet.

If he were a better man, a more confident man, he'd leave you his number. He'd clean himself up, start a good conversation with you— take you to a fine dinner, even though he so hated the idea of something so insanely public. If he were half the man he held himself as, he wouldn't be salivating over you in an empty corner of the café.

Konig tried to be a good man, but he was slimy. He was a pervert, a danger— he'd never harm anyone— save for the men whose blood stained his hands, but he'd found himself craving indulgence in dark fantasies more than once. He was nasty, he was a monster, but he wanted to be soft for you. Simply, he wanted you, but his therapist would strongly advise against it— counseling that maybe, just maybe it's not best for his obsessive psyche.

Whatever, you'd learn to love it.

He had his reluctant fill of ogling, the tightening of his pants becoming too much to ignore, and the clatter of dishes becoming grating on his sensitive ears— he had to leave at some point. His coffee cup had long run dry, and he hadn't had the courage to waive you over for another.

If he were a better man, he'd leave you his number, but a crisp hundred to cover the bill— and leave you a tip to keep you fed— would definitely suffice. He tucked it under his coffee mug shamefully, wishing he just had the sack to speak to you— but that irritating fear of rejection always held him just at arms length.

How badly he wished he could just take you.

Everything else that wasn't you was boring, the streets were dull and gray, and rain drizzled like piss— just another way for God to mock him, punishment for his lustful behavior. Father would have a field day with him, if only he knew.

He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his soft-shell coat, rain pattering against it in an almost melodic sound. Nothing like your voice, though, oh nothing like that sound.

— Sir!

See, nothing like it, and he can't stop imagining it.

— Sir, you forgot your phone!

Oh, oh, he's not imagining that.

He whips around almost too fast, seeing you skirt on your heels as you stop your quick advance in front of him— his phone outstretched in a waiting hand. You really were such a lovely thing.

— Oh! Gott.. thank you, liebling— would have lost my head.

He wished he sounded.. cooler, smoother. But, he sounded like an inexperienced teen, stuck in a giants body. Always cringing at the sound of his own voice, but you smile and his world just fucking shifts— he couldn't give a shit how he sounded.

— it's- it's no worry, sir, I understand that.

Oh, your laugh, it's so sweet. He wants to touch you, grab you and squeeze you.

— I wanted to thank you actually- for the tip, I mean.. that was very generous of you—..?

You pause, trailing off as you look up at him. You want something, oh what is it maus? Anything. Say it, tell him— Oh, you want his name. His name. He has to fight the grin on his face.

— König— and do not worry yourself, Maus, it is no trouble. You work hard.

Now he's nonchalant, now he's found his groove. Keep being so humble, keep pretending like you don't want him to shower you in his endless wealth; keep looking up at him with those eyes that would be so much prettier coated in tears as you gagged on his thickness.

— Well, regardless, thank you, König.

Fuck, the way those pretty lips move with the pronunciation of his name— and you didn't miss a single vowel, what a good girl, what a smart girl. Oh, how he wanted to praise you like the good puppy you are, a collar with his name attached would be so pretty on you.

— Truly, Schatz, don't mention it— but, uhm-

Ah, he trailed, his fingers fidgeting with the lint of his pocket. Did he say it? Did he go for it? Either she'd be creeped, and run, or she'd be flattered— maybe even accepting. He had to keep it black and white, or he'd explode.

— Do you mind if I give you my number, liebling? I'd uh- I'd very much like to see you.. more.

Oh, he sounded like a fucking fool, and you looked so cute and patient; he was so used to drunken one-night stands, or shooting blanks into his hand when one just wasn't enough— this was so much harder when you looked like a literal angel to him, and not some cheap bimbo.

So patient, he wondered if you'd be like that while he railed you— even when you couldn't take it anymore. You were blushing, and he wanted to add tears to it, you were nervously fidgeting with your fingers, and he imagined them around his cock.

— Not at all, sir..

Today's a beautiful day. A lovely day even, the clouds had split just for him to bask in the loveliness of heaven's light— you sweet angel, you had no idea what you'd signed yourself up for.

— Perfekt. Hand me your phone, little one.

And you did, almost eagerly, such a good girl already. Following his orders so nicely, of course you did, even unlocking it before you passed it over.

His fingers never felt so nimble over a touchscreen, typing in his contact as if it were as easy as breathing— you seemed so shy, so nervous, it only made him confident. You made him confident, and he couldn't get enough.

— There you are, send me a text later, hm?

He hands the phone back grinning, he'd reward her for being so compliant— maybe work her open on his fingers just for now, a window of opportunity was wide open for him, and you were blushing all innocent and star-struck in front of him. He could not wait to ruin you.

— Yes, sir- König.. I'll do that. See you later!

— See you, maus.

Oh, you're so cute. You're so shy and it letting him read you like a filthy book. He knew you hadn't been taken care of, he knew you desperately needed satisfaction— and he'd give it to you tenfold, a sweet little thing like you deserved it. Especially since you did such a good job of hiding it behind that precious little smile.

Those eyes, they told him everything.

-----

pt.2 :3

[tearsofastraeax]

🎀 cw: 18+, voyeurism, masturbation, könig orders bathwater, also he's a creep

whenever stalker!könig orders bathwater from cam girl!reader he gets so excited when he finds it in his mailbox. he so badly wants to tear apart the package it comes in, but instead, he takes his time, slowly unwrapping the padded envelope it arrives in. he absentmindedly notices the way his name and address are written in beautiful handwriting. 

inside the package he finds a note addressed to him, it's written on an intricate pastel pink card, flowers adorning the edges. it reads:

'thank you for supporting me, könig ♡  i took my time with this one, imagining what you would do to me while I played with myself... at the end, the water was all cold enjoy xx' 

the card smells irresistibly sweet, clearly sprayed with your perfume. and he can't help but hold it to his nose, taking in the smell of you. he rubs the card over his face, wanting your scent to be all over him, inside his pores, never leaving. 

he can barely compose himself, already feeling the rush of blood flowing right to his hardening cock, straining against his pants. but of course, he didn't forget about the star of the show, the little container with your bathwater currently sitting in front of him. 

he gently puts the card down and picks up the see-through container. the pink cap of it reads the date it was made for him, you laid in this water just two days ago. 

his heart starts to beat faster at the thought. he had watched you then, saw you masturbate while you sat in your bathtub. he so dearly wanted to burst through your door then and just take what was his. but instead, he hid away further in the shadows, opting to observe you from afar. it wasn’t time yet. 

he slowly moves the container around in his hand, it looks so small. so small even that when he twists open the cap, he can fit only one finger inside, swirling it around in the water, letting the smell waft over him. the sweet scent of you envelops him and makes him feel dizzy. 

it's so hard for him to control himself, he's being pulled apart at the seams. so, he does the only thing he can, he rips open his pants and pulls out his swollen cock. but before he takes his length in his hand he dribbles the bathwater over his fingers, the overwhelming smell coating his hand, drips of it running down his arm. 

and then he fists his cock roughly with it, jerking himself off in smooth motions. he closes his eyes��while he does, imagining your hand in his place. 

he thinks back to you that day, how you had shimmied out of your cute bathrobe and sat down in the bathtub. how good you looked, with your hair falling over your shoulders, and your tits swaying with your movement. he saw you shiver and smile to yourself as you got comfortable in the warm soapy water. 

you had closed your eyes then too, just how he had done now, and imagined him, just how you had promised in your sweet card to him. he had seen you slowly drag your hands over your skin, from your neck to your chest, gently grabbing your full breasts and squeezing them. a low grunt left his lips at the memory of it.

he tried to imagine so badly how his hands were yours, and yours were his. how instead of your hands trailing down your body and caressing your curves they were his doing it. how he would have dipped his hands in the water, to find your sweet cunt. how he would caress your folds, a finger gently dipping between them. how he would circle your already swollen clit. how he would coax moan after moan out of you. how he would kiss you and hold you and stroke you till you cum, writhing and shaking underneath him and crying out his name. 

he stroked himself roughly at the thought, cumming so hard he couldn't help but breathe out sharply, his head falling into his neck, and a low moan leaving his lips. 

how he wished to have you and touch you and make you his and his alone. 

check out the stalker!könig masterlist for more

[kneelingshadowsalome]

[emkortac]

DARK OBSESSION

König x y/n

As you bid farewell to Ghost, König's eyes followed your every move. He saw the friendly embrace, and a surge of possessiveness coursed through his veins. With a heavy heart, he retreated into the shadows, his obsession only growing stronger.

Alone in the corridors, König's mind raced with thoughts of you. Every detail of your face, every sound of your voice, etched itself deeper into his memory. He couldn't shake the feeling that you were slipping away, slipping out of his reach. The obsession consumed him, driving him to the edge of madness.

But König knew that he had to be patient. He couldn't let his obsession consume him completely. He would bide his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his move, to make you his. And until then, he would continue to watch and obsess, his heart torn between desire and darkness.

König moved stealthily in the shadows, his footsteps silent and his gaze fixed on you. He felt a surge of anticipation as he followed you through the dimly lit corridors. The darkness provided the perfect cover for his obsession to thrive.

With each step you took, König's heart raced in his chest. He reveled in the feeling of being so close to you, yet remaining undetected. His obsession fueled his determination, driving him to keep his distance but never losing sight of you.

As you continued walking, oblivious to König's presence, he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have you all to himself. His mind wandered into dark and twisted fantasies, consumed by the desire to possess you completely. The lines between reality and obsession blurred in his psyche.

König's fixation grew stronger with every passing moment. He knew that he had to be careful, for any misstep could reveal his presence. But he couldn't resist the intoxicating allure of following you, of being near you, even if it meant lurking in the shadows like a predator.

And so, König persisted in his pursuit, his obsession driving him forward, his every thought consumed by the object of his twisted desires.

König's heart skipped a beat as you turned around, sensing his presence. Panic surged through his veins, but he quickly composed himself, retreating further into the shadows to avoid being seen.

He watched you closely, his eyes narrowed with a mix of fear and excitement. The adrenaline coursed through his veins, heightening his senses. König remained hidden, his obsession driving him to maintain the element of surprise.

As you scanned the empty corridors, König felt a sense of triumph. He had managed to evade your detection once again. A dark smile played upon his lips, his obsession growing stronger with each passing moment.

But König knew he had to be cautious. He couldn't allow his desperation to overcome him. He would continue to watch you from afar, waiting for the perfect opportunity to reveal himself. The thrill of the chase fueled his obsession, and he was determined to make you his, no matter the cost.

König's heart raced as he saw you drop your key. This was his chance, his moment to finally reveal himself. With a calculated step, he emerged from the shadows, his eyes fixated on you.

"Allow me," König spoke softly, his voice laced with a mixture of intensity and obsession. He reached down to pick up the key, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed it to you. His touch, though brief, sent a shiver down his spine.

There was a hunger in König's eyes as he observed your every move, his obsession now palpable. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have you completely under his control, to possess you in every way.

As you thanked him, König forced a smile, concealing the dark desires that lurked within. "Anytime," he replied, his voice dripping with a mixture of charm and menace. He longed to keep you close, to never let you slip away from his grasp.

But for now, König would have to be patient. He would continue to watch, to obsess, and bide his time until the moment was right. The allure of possessing you consumed him, and he would stop at nothing to make his twisted fantasies a reality.

König's gaze locked with yours, a dangerous intensity burning in his eyes. The air crackled with a mixture of danger and desire, a potent combination that both intrigued and frightened you.

In that moment, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull between you and König. The realization of his obsession sent a thrill down your spine, awakening a dark curiosity within you. The danger he exuded only seemed to fuel the fire of your own desires.

A part of you knew that this attraction was dangerous, that you should resist, but the allure was too strong to ignore. It was as if König's obsession had awakened something dormant within you, something equally twisted and forbidden.

You found yourself drawn to the danger, captivated by the forbidden dance of obsession. The fear mingled with desire, creating a heady mixture that left you wanting more. It was a treacherous path you were treading, but the thrill of the unknown beckoned you forward.

As your eyes lingered on König, a dangerous smile played upon his lips. He knew he had awakened something within you, a dark desire that mirrored his own. In that moment, the dangerous dance of obsession became a shared secret between the two of you, binding you together in a sinister embrace.

König's grip on your wrist tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh with a mix of possessiveness and restraint. His eyes bore into yours, filled with a volatile combination of desire and control.

"Please," König whispered, his voice laced with both desperation and determination. "Don't go just yet. Stay with me a little longer."

His words sent a chill down your spine, a mixture of fear and intrigue intertwining within you. You could feel the dangerous energy radiating from him, his obsession now palpable in his touch and gaze.

Uncertainty gripped your heart as you glanced between König and the locked door. A part of you knew that you should pull away, escape from his grasp, but another part of you was inexplicably drawn to the darkness that surrounded him.

Caught in the grip of his obsession, you hesitated, torn between your own instincts and the intoxicating allure of his presence. The danger was undeniable, but so was the undeniable pull that kept you rooted in place, unable to break free from his hold.

In that moment, you made a choice - a choice to surrender to the unknown, to let König's obsession consume you both, and to embrace the darkness that awaited on the other side.

König's grip tightened around your wrist, a mixture of triumph and satisfaction flashing across his face. He had sensed your surrender, your willingness to be drawn into his darkness. A sinister smile played upon his lips as he pulled you closer, his obsession now fully ignited.

In that moment, you became entangled in his web of obsession, willingly succumbing to the allure of his darkness. The world around you faded away as you allowed yourself to be consumed by the intensity of his presence.

As König held you captive, his eyes gleaming with a possessive glimmer, a twisted dance of desire and obsession unfolded. The boundaries of right and wrong blurred, and you found yourself willingly surrendering to the darkness that enveloped you both.

With every passing moment, König's obsession grew stronger, intertwining with your own desires in a dangerous, intoxicating embrace. There was no turning back now. You had willingly stepped into the depths of his obsession, ready to explore the forbidden realms that awaited.

As you embraced the darkness, a sense of both liberation and trepidation washed over you. You were now part of König's twisted world, willingly entangled in his web of obsession, forever bound to the depths of his desires.

König's lips met yours in a searing kiss, a fusion of passion and obsession. The intensity of his touch sent electric currents through your body, igniting a fire within you that you couldn't deny.

In that moment, the world around you ceased to exist. There was only König, his darkness consuming you, and the intoxicating dance of his obsession. You surrendered to the depths of his desires, willingly becoming entangled in the web he had spun.

As his lips moved against yours with a mixture of possessiveness and longing, you found yourself losing yourself in the dangerous embrace. The hunger and intensity of his kiss held you captive, as if you were both trapped in a never-ending vortex of passion and obsession.

Every touch, every movement, fueled the flames of your own desires. You pushed aside the rational thoughts that whispered warnings in your mind, allowing yourself to be consumed by König's darkness.

In the depths of this forbidden connection, you embraced the dangerous dance of obsession, willingly surrendering to the depths of his desires, and losing yourself in the labyrinth of his twisted love.

[agentmarvel]

König art (top left) by @ave661 - original art here

Divider by @trashmouth-richie

Summary: König leaves a letter for you as he departs on his latest mission.

Pairing: König x Reader

Word Count: 2,000

Inspired by: Stalker's Tango by Autoheart (listen here)

MDNI - 18+

Tags: Fem!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Meet-Cute, Well... kinda, König is a stalker, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Author Has Never Played Call Of Duty, Yandere Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Alternative Reader, König is feral for goth girls and no one will change my mind, Barista!Reader, Non-Graphic Violence, Abuse of Google Translate tbh, Reader might be a little cuckoo too, Explicit Sexual Content, No use of y/n, No description of reader outside of outfit specifics

😈

Oh, mein Liebling, you truly have no idea how much I adore you.

I remember the day we met, don’t you? That’s right! Exactly one year ago today, in this very coffee shop. Feels like yesterday, does it not?

You were so sweet to me from the moment I walked in. I saw the concern in your eyes when I nearly hit my head on that silly little bell over the door. When I came up to the counter, your eyes widened just a little. I don’t think you quite realized just how much I tower over you. But that surprise quickly melted into a mile wide, saccharine smile.

There was such softness to your voice when you asked me what you could get started for me. I barely took a breath before you offered your recommendations. I ordered the one you seemed most excited about. The sugar buzz and little nickel and dime costs were so well worth the mirth in your eyes. You looked so excited to make it. How could I possibly say no?

You asked my name; I gave it to you. 

"König?" you repeated, scribbling it on the cup. I cannot begin to describe what that did to me, my darling, the way you said my name so sweetly. "Isn't that German for 'king'?"

The fact that you knew - oh, mein Herz sei still! - nearly had me on my knees. Do you speak German, kleines? No matter, I will teach you anything you would like. You will have plenty of time to learn.

You waited so patiently for me to nod, to tell you that was correct. I could see it in your eyes that you so desperately craved that validation. As soon as you got it, those expressive eyes of yours, even with all that dark make-up, lit up like an explosion. I could practically see the little hearts floating around your head. Your smile got so big, and I knew at that moment that you had me caught in your web.

Crafty, meine kleine Spinne, not often that I am the fly instead of the spider.

Then you turned around, that cute little skirt flaring just enough for me to see those fishnet stockings beneath. I swear, my heart skipped a beat. Jumped right out of my chest. Maybe that’s when you stole it, hmm?

Of no consequence. It is yours now.

Somehow, I do not feel you are told often enough, but mein gott, you are beautiful. The way the sunlight reflects off your pretty skin, the soft line of your jaw, every curve and dip of your body, each little freckle and scar and pore; I love everything about you. Every inch of you, head to toe, is worthy of worship. Will you let me worship you, my love?

I promise to treat you like the deity you truly are. I will gladly work my fingers down to bone to carve marble statues in your likeness, write every word you speak to me in the night sky, paint your beauty on canvas with my own blood if I have to, anything to show you how I crave being near you.

You’re all I think about, little darling. My first thought when I wake, my last thought before I sleep. It keeps getting harder to be away from you, even for something as important as my work. The frequency with which I must leave you sickens me at times. It kills me to be away from you. But I make due with your pretty pictures.

I have a few on my phone, little candids while you work or when you’re lost in your favorite show, but I keep two very special photos in the pocket of my vest - right over my heart so I always have you close.

The first one is you curled up on the bed, fast asleep. I’ve memorized every inch of your bare spine, the way your arms curl beneath your pillow, the way the satin sheets encase you with such enticing detail. I doubt you know I took the picture. It was the middle of the night during the spring, and you were so exhausted from your work day. I swear, I can still hear those precious little snores every time I look at it. 

The other, however, is exponentially less tasteful, hübsche Spinne. Similar position, on your stomach with your knee pushed out to the side, but you threw the sheets off that summer night. Too hot for your poor, perfect body. Stripped down to nothing to stave off the heatwave. If only you would have asked me to fix your air conditioner instead of waiting for your landlord.

From across the room, by aid of the moonlight through your open window, I could see that pretty little cunt. I could see how wet you were. Fuck, you were soaked for me. Sweet little hole just begging to be stuffed full. I needed a little taste, needed to touch you. So I just ran my finger through your messy lips. Nearly lost control when I licked you off the tip. I’ve never been so fucking hard in my life, never wanted anyone so badly, struggling to fight the urge to bury my face in between your thighs, to force my tongue, fingers, anything inside you. Show you how perfect you really are. 

But I stopped myself, kleines. I would never want to hurt you in any way you did not ask for. We both know you can’t take my cock without proper foreplay. Instead, I stood as close to you as I could and fucked my fist, biting down on one the t-shirts from your bedroom floor until I came.

(I’ll give that shirt back soon, love. I know it’s one of your favorites, and you’ve been looking for it for months.)

That’s the picture - my spend dripping between your cheeks, my cock dangling just inches from your pretty pussy. Almost right where it belongs, ja? I’ll let you have it all as soon as I get home to you. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darling; soon, we’ll never be apart again.

Oh, the things we will do when I come home… We will have months worth of lost time to make up for, though I cannot say why I will be gone so long. I am sure you understand. 

We can start with movies, yes? I want you to show me all your favorites. Play me the things that make you laugh, show me what makes you cry (fuck, you are so pretty when you cry, do you know that?), teach me about the things that feed your nightmares so that I may chase them away for you. 

What next? Music? Yes, music. You have a vast taste, don’t you? I could sit with you for hours listening to your favorite playlist. I have done so on many occasions, but to hold you, to dance with you, that would be ideal. You can choose our first dance, but choose wisely, mein Schatz, because I will not forget it. May just be our first dance on our wedding day, too.

I did not get a chance to tell you before this, but do you remember that little bar we went to? The one with the live music? You did not see me there, but I saw you. I also, unfortunately, saw the boisterous little gnat that tried to cozy up to you a few times. He would not take no for an answer, would he? Kept pestering you and trying to take you home with him, but no, not you, not my venomous little spider. Mein gutes Mädchen, you shot him down so quickly so many times. You are so well-behaved, even when you do not know I am there.

He will never bother you again, I assure you. I handled the situation after you left that night with my favorite knife. Ruined a perfectly good shirt, but I kept it for you in case you ever need a reminder of the lengths to which I will go to keep you safe.

Do not worry, it’s been washed. There are just some stubborn stains that refuse to come out.

Unfortunately, I must go. I’ve re-written this letter so many times to try to make it perfect for you, but it would seem I have run out of time. It will not be long before I return to you, my darling girl. Please, take care. I will see you soon enough.

All my love,

König

P.S. I hope you enjoy this little care package I have put together for you. Take an evening to pamper yourself for me before I come home. Ich liebe dich, meine Spinne ♡

You look at the letter in your hand, black ink stamped and splattered and smeared by the key strikes of a typewriter. The envelope taunts you from the countertop, boasting your name with flourish. Your heart is racing as it lodges itself inside your throat. You try to swallow around the lump that’s formed, but it only spurs tears. 

There’s no surprise in the fact that you know exactly who sent this. He’s outrageously tall, broad shouldered, jacked as shit, and always wears a ballcap and a neoprene mask that hides the lower half of his face. You’ve only ever seen his eyes - those intense, wide blue eyes that you swear are glued to you at all times.

It’s involuntary and upon pure instinct (or perhaps morbid curiosity) that you grab the box and rip the wrapping paper off. The edges of the tape sealing the top are wrinkled enough for you to dig a nail under to peel it back, and immediately, the scent of a musky cologne hits you. It’s strangely pleasant, despite the fact that you can see something beneath the first layer of tissue paper that’s a deep red-brown. Your heart drops from your throat to the pit of your stomach as you lift the paper away.

A beige t-shirt, covered in blood stains, sits in your grasp. There’s a small tear in the collar. It smells a lot better than you’d expected, but still, a wave of nausea hits you. Gently, you hold the fabric up in front of you. A shirt that size would swallow you, reach your mid-thigh at minimum, so it’s certainly not your missing one.

Something falls from the shirt as it unfolds, a dull thud sounding off the laminate counter. It’s another box, a small one, that opens with little to no effort. Inside sits a knife with a fixed blade bearing an inscription: Ich liebe dich - I love you.

That same morbid curiosity gets the best of you, and you can’t stop yourself from looking inside the small box again. Beneath one more layer of tissue paper, you find three things: two pairs of panties you thought you had been eaten by your dryer (filthy, unwashed, and now covered in multiple questionable white stains) and another envelope. Your hands shake as you toss said panties back in the box and tear through the top of the seal. There’s cash inside, quite a lot of it. Suddenly the pampering comment makes sense.

Blankly, you place the knife box, the envelope, and the t-shirt back inside the box, folding in the flaps so nothing falls back out.

Tears sting the corners of your eyes. It’s terrifying to feel this way, and your mind is running a million miles per hour. Hundreds of thoughts are flooding your brain while thousands more sit in the recesses, but none of them will settle enough to be coherent. Why did he choose you? How long had he been watching you? How did he get into your home? Is he inside your head, too?

You’ll have to find a way to thank him for such thoughtful gifts when he comes home. Turns out your feelings for him aren’t quite as unrequited as you thought, hmm?