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shooting-love-arrows · 5 months

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𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 — 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

SYNOPSIS: 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬!𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 characters and their yandere tendencies. PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 (!aged up to be a legal adult!) x reader [romantic]; 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 x reader [romantic]; 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 x reader [romantic]; 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x reader [romantic]; 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐬 x reader [platonic]; readers gender isn't impiled/mentioned/specified Tw. delusion, delulu is the solulu, obsessive thoughts/behavior, possessive thoughts/behavior, witchcraft/dark magic, mention of love making, manipulations, controlling behavior, tyranny (?), concent? what is it?, stalking, worshiping, creepy behavior, creepy people, hunting, mention of m*rder, punishments, yeah… A/N: I hold Snow White close to my heart. However, as much as I adore the animated version, I find the book more interesting. So this is based on German fairy tale or folk tale, [Snow White] written by the Brothers Grimm (Jacob Ludwig Karl Grimm and Wilhelm Karl Grimm). Snow White is AGED UP!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 who thinks of you as her first, last and only love. She, just like most women her age, believes in soulmates. It's just so...romantic.

It happens that in her opinion, you're the one. Since the moment she lays her doe like eyes on you, she just knows that your souls are tied and destined to be one.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 fantasies about you. A lot. At first, those are innocent fantasies. Scenarios about you running around each other, playfully starting your courtship. Then your feelings shall grow deeper, the roots growing deep into your heart and so your courtship becomes more prominent and serious. Those playful touches become more affectionate. Holding a deeper meaning and reaching down into your essence of being. Then, you'll propose to her, in the most dreamy way one can imagine. Fret not, she'll (shout) say yes. Wedding preparations will follow soon after, then a grand, royal wedding itself and finally, you'll spend your first night together. Ah yes, the moment your bond will materialize in the form of a night full of passionate love making. The spiral goes on deep and each time 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 starts the imaginary movie roll over, her daydreams take a darker turn.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 becomes very needy for your attention. She's just so touch starved to be noticed by her object of affection that she's just about to do something to make you see her as your potential wife. She'll dress up for you, looking like a princess that she is, otherwordly beautiful and charming; make sure to sing when she knows you're near acting like a siren who is ready to catch you in her net of love; showing off her many talents especially those she knows will catch your attention and let her start a conversation with you. And every time you do talk, it's like the whole world disappears, leaving only you. You find it a little concerning with how much 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 sighs and flutters her long eyelashes. Sometimes you wonder if she even pays attention to what your saying (or worse, that you bore her), since she seems to be stuck in her head. And her eyes seemed to have that strange glint that appears only when she looks at you…

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 starts being interested in witchcraft. It is an unexpected turn but I feel like she searched for something deeper. Knowing that your soulmates (it's her opinion) just isn't enough. She must be sure. A way to truly bind you together. So…uh…like mother, like (step) daughter?

Don't get me started on what she writes in her diaries…

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 who commands you to be her lover. Simple as that. She doesn't wait, nor ask for your opinion in that matter. After the (not so) mysterious disappearance of her husband – the King and Snow's White father – she'll have absolute power in the Queendom. And since she's the Queen and the most entitled person around, you'll have to comply with her wishes. Otherwise, she won't hesitate to force you to via poisons and dark magic.

She'll force feed you all sorts of aphrodisiacs, make voodoo dolls either of you or someone from your surroundings and in the end reduce you to being her puppet. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 doesn't need you to think. Just look pretty (but not as her) and submit to her entirely. Be her best and most treasured accessory, hm?

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 often uses a spying mirror to stalk you. Whenever she's not busy leading the Queendom or simply desires to see you, she'll sit in her lavish chambers and command her mirror to show you. She knows it can only tell her the truth and only the truth, so additionally she'll ask all sorts of questions about you. Are you loyal to her? Do you have a family she shuld take care of? Do you have feelings for someone? If she finds out that you do have and it's not for her, the very next day a public execution is made for your crush.

You're not safe from her wrath and mood swings either. Like mentioned before, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 isn't afraid to punish those who are against her in any way. She won't kill you but your punishments will be severe. Whipping and isolation are her way to go. Scars shall be your reminder to not cross her and loneliness borderlining to madness will thrust you right in her arms. Just like she didn't hesitate to assassinate Snow White, she'll make sure you understand your place and take your role as her lover seriously.

She's all you need now and in the future. Your family, close friends and anyone you had connection with were taken care of. You're her loyal subject, made to worship her and serve her by giving her your never ending supply of love and affection.

She'll make you see that.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 who is your devoted worshiper. He sees you as some sort of higher being, who graced this dirty Earth with your pure presence. Who has graced him and his hard life with a drop of your soothing presence. The moment you showed him some kindness, even unintentionally, he's ready to carve his heart out of his chest and be at your every beck and call.

Although he is no knight by no means, definitely lacking those virtues, he's skilled within his field of work. It means that whoever dares to bother you (even if they don't) or worse, taint you (start courting you) is automatically a threat he needs to eliminate. Just like 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 does to his prey, he'll haunt them deep in the great forest by shooting arrows at their running form. But unlike his usual ethics to make it as painless as possible to the animals, he’ll deliberately make sure to make this person suffer as much as possible. He's ruthless.

Don't be surprised when you'll find some ‘gifts’ from him. He's a man of a few words, not a drop of romance and hardened by life. Plus his yandere tendencies. So 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 gifts tend to be…disturbing. More often than not, you'll find already prepared quarries of his. You get furs, meat and even polished antlers/horns to hand in your chambers.

Of course, he'll remain anonymous through this whole time, because he doesn't feel worthy enough to officially make contact with you.

In the dark of the night, when he lays in his cot, he'll pray to you. That you'll allow him, a sinner, to be by your side. He doesn't dare (but secretly wishes) to be your lover, perhaps even your...husband? Whatever you'll pick, he'll agree on anything. He's that desperate for you.

One day…one day he'll overcome his insecurities and will speak to you…

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 who is a lovesick puppy, ready to marry you right then and there when his eyes fell on you for the first time. He's hopeless, really.

He's always there when you're out of the castle. Lurking just around the corner, ready to start luring you into coming with him. At first, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 offers are subtle but slowly and surely, they become bold. From promises to give you safety, stable life to making you his Queen and offering to conquer the Queendom as a wedding gift from him to you. He doesn't understand why you wouldn't want to come with him. He's the crown prince, only heir to a prosperous kingdom and a future king, ready to shower you in gold, gifts and power before you could even think of it.

He's a gifted singer and poet. He'll use that to his advantage to catch your attention, especially when you're in the castle where 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 obviously can't go. If it's possible, he'll stop his horse just under your window, hop down and that's when the performance starts. He'll sing ballads about your beauty, recites all sorts of poetry also related to love, sometimes even pray for you to come and grace him with your presence. His words are easily pouring out of his mouth in abundance. They're all about how he deeply feels towards you or about you. And he sincerely hopes they'll trap your heart.

In the dark of the night, he'll look at the portrait of you he had commissioned shortly after meeting you. Of course it didn't do your justice at all but it was just to pass the time until he'll have the real you by his side. He'll sigh dreamily at the canvas, whispering words of pure adoration for you.

His patience is running thin and the wedding day is nearing so fast...!

✿ BONUS ✿

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐬 [platonic] who are fiercely overprotective of you. They are greedy and dangerous beings by nature. They’ve killed before and they have no problem doing that again. Especially when some pathetic excuse of a pests seemed to be lurking around their hut, where they were keeping you locked in. There are seven of them, ripped with muscles because of a daily work in the mines and without any remorse in them. The opponent stands no chance.

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

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die-pink-maus · 27 days

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Some MORE Canon/Not So Canon König 💋Headcanons💋

(NSFW Included • MDNI)

AN: AGAIN, these are just my thoughts and opinions of what I imagine König would be like IRL. I have once again divided everything up into sections and there is a whole section dedicated to more NSFW headcanons, so PLEASE…MDNI this is for the grownups! There is great mention of the words “wife”, “girlfriend” and some GN terms such as “you” or “your”. I am mainly writing this from the perspective of a woman. I’ve also included an IRL photo inspo to help get those imaginative juices flowing 🤭

IRL Inspo: @Fabientietjen on Insta/Tiktok

Likes, Reblogs, & Positive Comments Are Greatly Appreciated 🫶🏼

Enjoy! 💋

🪖Personality/Physical Appearance🪖

♡ TATTED. Definitely covered in tattoos, has the “my body is a temple so why not decorate it” mindset. All of his pieces are super unique to him and his experiences. Would more than likely get tattoos of his cats and his wife or GF so they’re always with him, especially when he is deployed.

♡ Very direct and to the point, but doesn’t necessarily always mean it in a mean or condescending way, he’s just very blunt. A lot of the time it’s more funny than anything else.

♡ Listens to Austrian and German folk music while he cooks, boisterously singing along with a gigantic goofy grin on his face, and a kitchen towel draped over his broad shoulder. It reminds him of being a child, and cooking with his mom back home.

♡ Hunter gatherer type of man. Owns a home in rural Austria where he is able to grow and harvest his own crops and hunt game. Probably owns a couple of animals on his small farm as well, but not for food, they’re like his family.

♡ Has a bit of a love hate relationship with his birthday. Doesn’t mind celebrating, as he is very grateful to be alive, but also just isn’t really one for all the attention that usually comes with birthdays. He’s more than content with staying in, ordering takeout and having some alone time with you 😜

♡ Loves dressing like he’s from the early 1900s. In his defence, it’s suits the fuck outta him, and reeeeally adds to that gentlemanly, timeless charm he has 🤭

♡ Will start pointless debates over almost ANYTHING simply because he enjoys watching people get frustrated. He thinks that shit is hilarious and will often play devils advocate just to get a rise out of someone 😂

♡ Hyperfixated on all things comics. Has been collecting comic books since he was a teen and has developed quite the collection.

♡ Big steak and potatoes kinda guy. Loves meat in general and probably isn’t afraid of eating the more undesirable parts of the animal, such as liver and gizzards.

♡ Huge on hygiene. Considering he’s spent quite a bit of time in some not so clean situations while being out in the fields on missions, being clean is something he’s become quite obsessed with now that he’s retired. More than likely because he doesn’t want to be reminded of his time in the military.

💗As a Boyfriend/Husband & Dad💗

♡ Adores taking you shopping, especially for lingerie. Will sometimes even request a private shopping session at your favourite boutique lingerie store so he can have you model a few pieces for him without interruption 😜

♡ Death stares at ANY MAN who even dares to look your way. He knows he has a bombshell on his arm, and there are many men who would kill to be in his position, but you’re his. He makes sure everyone is well aware of that.

♡ More than likely the type to opt for a small intimate proposal as opposed to something public and flashy. Would probably whisk his fiancé to be away to a beautiful tropical island, and propose to her during a lovely private dinner on the beach.

♡ Loves planning romantic vacations and getaways chalk full of excursions and activities he knows you’ll love.

♡ “I saw this at the mall on the way home and it made me think of you” type of man. He remembers practically everything about you.

♡ Teaches you how to shoot and takes you to the gun range at least once a month so you know how to protect yourself in case he ever needs to be away.

♡ Trains you in hand to hand combat, which involves a lot of roughhousing that usually leads to well…you know 🤭

♡ Tells you how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have a woman like you on a daily basis.

♡ Was the most attentive husband on earth when you got pregnant. Ensured you had everything you needed at all times, would constantly massage your feet, and came to every doctors appointment you had.

♡ Absolutely obsessed with your pregnant belly. Hushed words of adoration in German as he kisses your cheek and rubs your belly.

♡ Would often speak to the baby while she was still in your tummy. “Hallo Baby Mädchen, es ist deine Vater König…I can’t wait to meet you meine Prinzessin” 🥹

♡ Has always wanted a daughter, and when you two finally have one, that little girl became the centre of his entire universe. Names her after his mother, her grandmother.

♡ Is the best Girl Dad™️ on the planet. From playing dress up and letting her practice her makeup skills on him, to tea parties that involve him wearing a princess tiara, there’s practically nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

♡ Your little girl loves to cook with her father. He will hold her in his arms on his hip as he cooks, allowing her to sample everything in the process.

♡ Loves taking family photos with his beautiful girls and your pets! His office at the base was full of framed photos of all of you, and he always caries a photo of you and your daughter with him at all times.

😈Behind Closed Doors…😈

♡ Last time we talked about how he fucks you, but what about how he makes love to you? Both are equally as intense to be honest 🤭

♡ When König makes love to you, it’s almost as if the whole world stands still, and you and him are the only people on earth…bodies moving in perfect rhythm and harmony with one another 🥲

♡ He takes his time with you, long intimate full body massages with sensual aromatic oils, feeds you chocolate covered strawberries from his lips, drizzles honey all over your body and practically licks you from head to toe, nipping and sucking at those delicious sweet spots of yours.

♡ The foreplay is excruciatingly euphoric. Soft, slow, gentle kisses along your neck and over your chest. Licking and pinching your nipples as you moan beneath him, the bulge beneath his sweat pants purposefully teasing your sopping cunt through your panties as he grinds against it before pulling them off. His tongue gently lapping at your folds and your clit from behind as he gently squeezes your ass cheeks.

♡ No part of you is off limits for him. His tongue darts into your tight hole as his thumb draws mind numbingly pleasurable circles over your swollen clit. Two fingers from his other hand slipping into your puckered hole.

♡ Loves watching your gorgeous full lips wrap themselves around the thick tip of his cock, his large fingers gently running through your hair as whimpers, moans and sweet praises escape him. “You’re so good for me.” “Mein Gott you look incredible sucking my cock.”

♡ He loves when you’re on top, practically mesmerized at the sight of your curvaceous naked body hovering above him, large perky tits bouncing up and down as you slowly ride his huge cock 🤤

♡ His large hands guiding your hips as he looks up at you, arousal dripping from his icy blue gaze mirroring the arousal in yours.

♡ He does, however, tend to get a lil too excited. You drive him absolutely crazy. Eventually he flips you over, throwing both your legs over his shoulders as he rests on his knees and begins slamming into you, repeatedly grazing your cervix with the tip of his cock as you practically scream his name. “Cum for me, Schatz, I want you to cum all over this cock.”

♡ As usual he always makes sure you cum first, but he can’t help but cum inside you. Your insatiably tight, wet walls clenching around his girth, milking every drop of cum from his aching balls 😩

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stluciabuns · 5 months

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The Historical Accuracy of Kirsten's Dirndl

Despite its adorableness, I have seen many people complain about Kirsten's Swedish Dirndl outfit.

I would kill a man to have bought this for $22.

She wears this outfit for most of Meet Kirsten, being that she is an impoverished immigrant child who does not own any other clothes, and also for continuity reasons.

Frequently, I have seen it claimed that this outfit is not historically accurate and should not have been included as part of her collection. Conversely, I have also seen many German folk costumes marketed as being made for Kirsten. Both of these pain me a great deal (actually they just annoy me).

Nonetheless, I have decided to further procrastinate doing actual, meaningful work and instead set out on a new mission: figure out what the fuck is up with Kirsten's Dirndl.

In this post, I will lay out the research I have done, the evidence supporting the historical accuracy of this outfit, the challenges to its existence, and ultimately aim to answer the question of whether this outfit is one Kirsten plausibly could have worn on her journey from Sweden to America in 1854.

Let's begin.

First, the name. Pleasant Company/American Girl referred to this outfit as "Kirsten's Swedish Dirndl and Kerchief."

Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a Swedish dirndl. "Dirndl" is a German term, and refers to folk costumes worn by people in German-speaking areas of Europe (the Alps, Bavaria, Austria, and so on).

Kirsten is Swedish, and before Meet Kirsten has never left Sweden before. It is very unlikely she would have acquired, and regularly worn, a German dirndl. See this gorgeous example of a dirndl c. 1840:

Outfit, c. 1840. Munich, Bavaria, Germany. Münchner Stadtmuseum.

This ensemble is beautiful, but tragically, it is not what Kirsten is wearing.

What, then, is Kirsten wearing? What kind of traditional dress does Swedish culture have?

As it turns out, the proper term for what she is wearing is a folkdräkt. This is a Swedish term meaning "folk costume." Here is an illustration depicting multiple examples of Swedish folk costumes. In proper terms, these would be called "Svenska folkdräkter."

Nordisk familjebok (1908), vol. 8, Folkdräkt. Retrieved from runeberg.org.

These outfits are not quite identical to anything we see in Kirsten's collection, but you can observe various elements that have carried over -- the vertical stripes, black woolen skirts with ornate trim, and white dresses and red sashes (hello St. Lucia)!

Let us dive deeper. What do extant Svenska folkdräkter, specially those made c. 1850, look like? Is there anything like Kirsten's outfit among surviving examples?

Johan Sodermark, "Kvinna i dräkt."

In my few hours of research, this example image is the closest thing I have found to Kirsten's dirndl.

This lovely portrait is a watercolor from 1850 painted by Johan Sodermark. It is very creatively titled "Kvinna i dräkt" -- literally, "Woman in costume." The pattern of this woman's apron is incredibly similar to that of the skirt of the Kirsten doll's outfit -- a dark red base with blue and yellow stripes woven throughout.

Here is a closeup from the American Swedish Institute.

Although it is not shown in the doll-sized version of the outfit, the illustrations in Meet Kirsten by Renée Graef show us she also wears a light-colored, striped apron, which is almost surely the one that comes with her meet outfit.

Illustrations from Meet Kirsten, drawn by Renée Graef.

Notice the fabric of the bodice in the third illustration, though: Kirsten's top is made of red plaid fabric, while Sodermark's girl has an outfit full of stripes. Kirsten, bless her heart, spends an entire book outfit-repeating a potential pattern-mixing fail: plaid and two kinds of stripes and a floral scarf. Did Pleasant Rowland just hate her? Is Kirsten on another, elevated fashion plane far beyond my comprehension? Is there a historical basis for this combination of patterns?

I have no answer to the first two questions, but thankfully can speak on the third.

Komplett Vilskedräkt, Västergötlands museum. Some pieces c. 1865.

The top is plaid and laces up, which is not necessarily the most common way of fastening (in most examples, the bodice pins up), but it is a sensible choice considering both Kirsten's age (9) and the fact that Pleasant Company was making toys for little hands.

The model for the outer shell (the lace up top) belonged to Karl Edberg from Hällestad; it is not dated, but at least one piece of this set (the bag, which is not shown) is c. 1865. Additionally, the blouse here is very similar to the one that comes with Kirsten's winter outfit -- look at that keyhole neckline!

So, Kirsten's Dirndl outfit is actually very accurate as far as the clothing itself goes...the name remains the trouble.

I have no idea why they called it a dirndl. Folkdräkt is definitely challenging to pronounce, but why wouldn't PC just translate it as "folk dress" or "Swedish outfit" and call it a day? Why the insistence on referencing a culture that isn't relevant to the doll or her dress at all?

Perhaps this is a mystery to tackle for another day...

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morinuu · 4 months

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commoner trouble

kyouya x fem!reader (1k words)

black locks fell on kyouya's set of charcoal orbs, his monolids hidden behind his glasses from the angle you were sitting. the couch began to feel uncomfortable, as if something were calling you to stand up and gently take his glasses in your hands, caressing his hair and letting him rest his head on your chest.

his eyes would finally relax and his body would ease in your arms as he'd take deep breaths to finally let go of all the stress that managing a host club and his studies brought him.

he'd sigh and relieve his eyes for a couple of minutes while you caressed him, before inevitably having to end his break and return to work.

he would. in your fantasies.

you sat in the host club's purple couch, uncomfortably staring at your classmate who was writing something on his laptop on a desk not too far away from the rest of the hosts. this was your routine.

you'd go to the club after classes, sit there for some minutes, waiting and waiting for your turn to try and make an appointment, but there was always some type of shitty excuse from the man.

"our hosts have different price ranges, you wouldn't be able to afford an appointment with me, ms. y/n." you didn't ask how he knew of your financial matters.

"i'm afraid we're all booked the entire week." his voice echoed almost void of all emotion, before he turned to another girl who wanted to re-schedule with a smile on his face.

"our prices went up this week." they hadn't, but you wouldn't know since he never actually told you the prices at all.

one stupid excuse after another and another - and you finally stopped looking for a logical explanation for his hostility. 'it's fine, you'll get your turn one day.' you told yourself each time.

you didn't ask for much really, just an appointment with ootori kyouya like every other client of his. but you hadn't considered the difference between you and them - class.

in all honestly, at first, kyouya had been indifferent to the new honour student of ouran, until he found her staring at him shamelessly throughout their classes together. he figured she'd stop soon, probably just fascinated by his looks.

but it's been four months and you won't give up.

it's not like you're harassing him. you keep your distance in class as not to make others notice, you don't ask for his help in subjects where you could seriously use it - mainly german - and you don't approach him during lunch either.

just at the host club, where you were allowed to ask for his attention as long as you paid a fee. it wasn't unfair or a difficult request, just some tea and a conversation would quench your thirst to talk to the man, to actually engage in an intelligent conversation with him.

but alas, not only did your wallet have limitations, so did kyouya's patience.

he found you... unsophisticated. vulgar, maybe improper?

he didn't express his distaste for your clothes, which were trying to replicate a male ouran school dress code since you didn't even own a yellow dress. your black trousers and white dress shirt barely looked like they were of similiar material, because they weren't. your worn out sneakers hurt his eyes when they stood out against all the neat and polished pointy dress shoes of every other student.

to his elegant and privileged world respective, you were nothing but a pitiful woman, treated like charity by the school so the public can say 'the suoh family cares for the sad common folk!'

he didn't even stop to consider how similiar you could've been to haruhi, because haruhi - as much as he refused to admit it - was a dear friend. she was nothing like you, surely. she wasn't unkept, she was always groomed and wore the uniform that she'd been given.

no, your eyes from across the room looked nothing like haruhi's. yours expressed pure admiration for a man who never bothered to say hello unless he had to.

but he'd warmed up to the other commoner, so you two must live differently.

because your neighbourhood is much sketchier than the quiet area the fujioka's lived in. your clothes are much more worn out than haruhi's, much more washed too.

but it's not like you're apart of the club or their clientele (that one's because of him) so he can't check on your life much. it's not like he cares to check either, you're just unpleasant and he blames it on your wallet. surely that's what's ticking him off.

the minutes were passing and he knew he'd have to stand up and kick you out once more, like every day you came by the club. only this time, just as he raised his head to look at you and approach you again, you'd already started walking to the exit.

what? how come?

it didn't matter, you left on your own. maybe it was a sign that after four whole months you'd stop requesting him. he turned his attention back to his laptop, not wanting to go through the trouble to check if you were really gone.

until a couple minutes later he saw a hand slam down on his small table, with some 10,000 yen bills below the hand's fingers. his gorgeous, wide, gentle, doe-like perplexed eyes found yours in a matter of seconds and his breath hitched at your determined facial expression.

"i'd like to book an appointment for ootori kyouya this thursday." you muttered a bit nervously, as if you hadn't quoted the same line over and over since the beginning of the school year.

just as he want to reject you, you pointed to the money on the table. "it's enough. i know it is. and i know you're free." your tongue played in your mouth and you looked away, intimidated by the eye contact.

he didn't know how hard you'd worked just to save up barely enough money for an appointment. how hard you tried to keep up with your studies, your exploitative part time job and your housing bills. you were embarrassed at how desperate you were just for simple chat, but it didn't matter.

because kyouya ootori had finally accepted a 35 minute appointment with y/n l/n, and you couldn't be happier.

divider by @saradika

#ohshc #kyoya #kyouya #kyoya ootori #kyouya ootori #kyoya ootori x reader #kyoya x reader #ohshc x reader #ohshc fanfic

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theredofoctober · 3 months

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RUMPLESTILTSKIN— An Oliver Quick/Reader Saltburn DarkFic

Pairing: Oliver Quick/You, Oliver Quick/Reader (no gender specified, terms like pretty are used though just to mention)

Synopsis: Oliver finds You, the awkward guest at his birthday party, and takes what his dark heart desires.

Trigger Warnings (PLEASE READ): noncon, blood play, Oliver just being evil

Fic under the cut, keep reading

"Who are you, then?"

It was the small man that said it, the one with the slurring Nothern accent and eyes like ice picks, palely sharp.

You'd seen him swaying on the outer edge of the party, seeming both drunk and far too sober, all at once.

His face was odd, flat, and sleek, like a trickster in a German folk story: thief of children, bringer of gold.

You hated the boy in a moment, drawing back from him against a trellis, your hands wrapped fast through the slats. His eyes made you wish you'd drunk rather less than you had done, silver as scissor blades in the swelling night.

"I'm one of Venetia's friends," you said, though you knew Felix more, and Farleigh rather better than you liked to. "You don't know me. Who are you?"

The boy stepped around a plant pot, his balance the measure of sobriety. He wore deer antlers with an open-chested white suit, embroidered with leaves, the dress of a more handsome man. Only the slopes of his cheekbones, the soft mouth were beautiful.

His eyes made an autopsy of you. There was nothing in them but wanting, a starving colour. An absence of it.

You would have turned to run, only there was nothing then to fly from that made sense.

"I'm Oliver," said the young man. "It's my birthday party. Felix's family arranged it all for me."

"Happy birthday," you said, at once, a reflex.

You wished that he'd go away, that he would edge into the maze like a shadow thrown by the sun, and meld with the dark of the leaves beyond. Anything but approach as he did then, his compact form eating of the air between you with carnivorous haste.

He was slight enough that you thought you might push him down or aside with little effort, but the poise of him, as delicate as a barber's blade, gave you pause. He'd cut you if you touched him, you thought. Something would happen, and you would run crying as you had from a dozen birthday celebrations as a child, unwanted.

He brought that old vulnerability up out of you, somehow, though he hadn't yet done much but broach the most innocent of smalltalk.

"How come you're over here, on your own?" asked Oliver, his head at a sympathetic incline. "You're too pretty for that. You know that, don't you?"

His voice was a sing-song croon, then, all silken menace. He was trying to charm you, you knew that, yet you saw as though through the beads of a brothel doorway the hunger in him, the appetite of worlds.

You glanced right and left, realising, with an awful start, how very drunk you were, swaying and stupid with it.

"I needed some fresh air," you said, with a high, braying laugh— Oliver half-smirked at the sound of it, knowing its falseness, knowing your fear. "All that bloody champagne went right to my head."

"You'll need someone to look after you, then," said Oliver, and then he uttered your name, making a baleful ditty of its syllables.

How had he known it? Had he known it all along?

You'd glimpsed him watching you, before, an empty glass in hand, attaching himself to your heels like a stoat after a rabbit, all lithe cunning on the hunt. Likely he'd heard your name then, as Felix had bent down to kiss your cheek, all affable golden looks. Heard it, and slipped it into the pocketbook of his mind to tear free, when it was needed.

Your name was pretty on Oliver's tongue, sugar, and ribbon, and stained glass, as apt to break. Happily you'd have taken the pieces and cast them all out into the riverbed, have gone nameless rather than hear him speak it again.

"You don't know anyone else here, do you?" asked Oliver, and there was the word again, no longer ribbon, but rough as a noose, strangling as he came closer still. "Just the Catton family. Something in common, me and you."

You lurched vaguely to the right, and Oliver's arm came up against the trellis, gently, a tender trap.

"You're lonely," he said. "Haven't you always been, though?"

His face was close enough for you to note the punctuation of a mole on his right cheek, the lines at his brow, the riddled literature of him. What he saw in yours was a portal to the past, all features from the nervous mouth to the twitching eyelids telling of a once bullied child, an outcast brought in through charity from the cold.

"Go away, Oliver," you said, bravely. "I want to be alone. I can't breathe."

That was true enough. You were stifled in your plastic wings and ill-fitting garments, sweating and airless, almost wanting to be sick.

Oliver drew his face nearer, and your throat closed to the breadth of a lock in your dread of him, of those ink spill eyes.

"I don't want you to breathe," he said. "Not right now."

Then he darned his lips to yours, their heat, their softness like the death of summer blooms, and you pressed back into the trellis so hard that you thought the wood might break, so brittle did it seem.

You brought up your hands to battle his shoulders, only for them to be joined with his, your fingers tangling, a torsion of slick skin and bone.

There were no thoughts that survived the cruelty of Oliver's embrace, the insistence of his compact strength, the length of tongue, of arousal under clothing, at your thigh. You wanted to snap free of him like a spell, but he kissed you until your fight withdrew in sight of its fair winner.

No one came close enough to see you, or if they did they thought you drunken lovers, poised to consummate your pash against the fence.

At last Oliver moved back his head, the reflection of the night's obsidian in his mortuary eyes.

"Let me go," you whispered. "I don't want to do this. I don't want you."

"Well, I want you, though," said Oliver, with an authority that frightened you in its unshifting weight. "And since nobody else here does, what's the point in saying no?"

His hands, little and wicked, wore their way under clammy layers of clothes. In all the heat they were almost cold, dragging from you a series of ragged gasps that were lost in the revelling darkness.

You wished the wings at your back were feathered, those of swans; they'd have broken the bones in his arm and you out of this, far lovelier a transportation than the sticky taxi that would bear you home in the hours to come.

Yet had such pretty things hung from your back this beast named Oliver would have bitten them off and flossed their quills through his teeth, you knew it.

He touched you until his findings were of stolen treasure, watching your every tendon solidify to strands of stone through the art of such fell grief.

"You weren't what I came looking for tonight, you know," he said. "But you're mine, anyway."

You didn't answer, imagined any word drowned like a cat in the depths of him.

Oliver stepped into you with a dancing softness and kissed you again, sucking a plum welt into your lower lip, breaking it between his teeth to blood. Again you struck your hands against him, but Oliver, with liquid instinct, pushed your arms back through the apertures in the trellis, caring little for the splinters in your wrists, if at all.

Crucifixion could not be so painful, so martyring as your capture beneath him.

"Oliver," you said, and he smiled.

"That's me. The birthday boy. And what does the birthday boy get?"

He opened your costume with the hook of four fingers, touched the bruised rose of princely lips to your ear.

His breath was smoke, and champagne, and stolen blood.

"I get what I want," he said, and then his cock was an arrow at the heart of your waiting horror, his slight hips a harp played against you, moving in the strum of entry, into the gold he made of your pain.

You screamed, and the sound was devoured by the bacchanal night. Oliver took you slowly, with patient intelligence, feeling each trembling agony of your body and twisting it, by sorcery, into something else. His eyes were a witch's orbs through which he knew you, psychic, solipsistic—

You were ivy about the wand of him, a thing that would poison the man, were he not immune to its effects. He fucked you as though he thought it romantic, somehow, this violence in a friend's pungent garden, the scent of flowers and trodden grass and arousal a perfume to woo.

There was blood on both of your faces, on his bare chest, under the blazer. It frightened you, suddenly, a tarot spread of death in the summer night—

Your panic, the heaviness of lingering champagne, the attack like Zeus upon a swan; all of it made you limp, in Oliver's grip.

He paused in his taking of you to hold you upright, studying your face under the Midas yellow of a nearby lamp.

"Stand up straight for me, now," he said. "And look at me. Look at me."

He tapped your cheek— not a slap, far too soft for that, as though the concern in the vicious gossamer in his voice was real.

"You want me to make you feel good about yourself. Need me. Don't you?"

"No," you said, but as Oliver kissed you again, and a firework shrieked somewhere against your eardrum, you lost what temporary power you'd had to resist him.

Like a spindled sleeper you endured his lovemaking, swallowed his tongue like a precious key. Your body was a pulse in deep water, stirred by hands and cock into a dripping arc.

Oliver moaned against your tattered lips, his arms about you in embrace. The heat of him would follow you, afterwards, the haunting of his lust's smoke from dream to dream.

He moved away from you, aided you in pulling your arms back through the trellis. For a moment he tried to hold you, his murmuring at your hair, its comfort indistinct.

Then, as you ripped him from you like the segment of a rotten apple he wiped himself clean of your blood; the rag he used was something torn from your garments in the fury of his love, a token of it. A thread from the maze.

You sat down in the grass and stared up at Oliver, seeking some answer. Assistance from the breaker of will.

"Go home," he said, at last. "Felix doesn't want you. And now—"

Oliver shook his head, and the peat fire of his eyes was of the underworld, then, of sapphire death gone to ash.

"I don't want you either. Not anymore."

Then he turned from you, and walked away, towards the house, his fey shape a shadow puppet on the wall.

#saltburn fic #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick #saltburn #dead dove do not eat #darkfic #tw noncon #tw assault #tw blood #oliver quick x you

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is-the-19thcentury-man-okay · 5 months

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I was very pleased with my English 1820s man. I made sure he had enrichment of a scholarly nature, to balance out the Romantic tendencies they have. He took to studying classical history and language, and I confess I was proud to have such an intelligent 19th century man. More recently he took an interest in current affairs but, as he is quite young, I assumed this was a sign of maturing. Then, just like that, he ran away! I went out searching and a neighbour informed me that he'd gone to Greece to fight against the Ottomans! I was horrified and went straight there, but I found him with a pack of Greek 1820s men and he adamantly refused to come home. What should I do? I worry that he will get hurt fighting, or that his constitution will not survive rough living in the Greek mountains. But he's having such a good time. He is learning the modern iteration of Greek (such a clever man), enjoys the local cuisine, and even wants to dress like his new friends. Is he in great danger if I let him stay, and how could I take him home without breaking his heart? (I don't want to risk any of those Greek 1820s men getting angry either, if I take their lucky mascot away.) Many thanks for your advice!

Romanticism and nationalism make for a very potent combination, as you have learned by now, and for many 19th century men of a certain social class and level of education, the attraction of the Classical world adds another layer of mythical folklore; not to mention the allure of pagan ceremony and skimpy neoclassical clothes.

For 1820s-1830s men, the Byronic appeal of exotic "Eastern" nations can be irresistible, and in general you will find a lot of national myth-making and interest in folk costumes.

Lord Byron in Albanian dress, 1813. This man is not Albanian!

You also have to be aware of your 19th century man's possibly very different ideas of national and imperial boundaries. He learns the polka in Bohemia, he wants to fight the Ottomans, he wants to fight in the Miguelite war—he might support Romantic German nationalism! It's not always the national and cultural understandings of the 21st century.

Being British is also not a guarantee of sensible behaviour. You might think that your British naval officer is going to rest on his laurels after the Napoleonic Wars, and the next thing you know, he's leading a fleet in the Chilean Independence movement!

Thomas Cochrane, naval officer for hire.

19th century men are not for the faint of heart. It can be challenging to balance their Romantic desires with a sensible course of action. Since your man has already spent so much time with his new Greek friends and has embraced their lifestyle, you could suggest that it's important that he document his experiences in a travel narrative that will also champion their cause.

As much as possible, you want to convince him that he's very valuable as a writer and/or visual artist giving voice to a cause—too valuable to foolishly risk his life or ruin his health abroad.

#is the 19th century man okay #asks #romanticism #nationalism #1830s #1820s #more problems caused by lord byron

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jadwiga-abremovic · 7 months

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Literally every culture that claims viking/norse/germanic heritage has insanely colorful, richly embroidered folk clothing.

Go ahead and cross stitch on your apron dress for the Renn Faire.

Drab solid "civilized " colours are revisionism and usually colonial/ fascist revisionism at that.

#folk dress #folk costume #vikings #renn faire #sca #costuming #sewing #archaeology

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15-lizards · 6 months

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hiii so I'm drawing sansa while shes in her alayne stone disguise and I'm pondering how she would have dressed in the Vale and I wanted to ask your thoughts because i love your account so much!

My current headcanon for the Vale is 15th and 16th German-Saxon clothing, however this is what I imagine for the more highborn ladies, and while Alayne was still just a ‘bastard’ under Lysa’s care, she would have never been allowed to wear the clothes of higher ranking woman.

She’s regulated to the clothes of the lesser nobility, fitting for a girl who’s the daughter of Baelish yet still a bastard. Dyes and trims and prints are allowed, but rather plain compared to the luxury of the higher nobility of the vale. She also might cover her hair despite it being dyed, just out of fear her red is poking through

When Lysa dies and Petyr gifts all her clothes to the new de facto lady of the Vale, Sansa has a bit of an upgrade but still wants to keep a low profile and not step above her base born station. She’s allowed finer fabrics, her gowns are more carefully crafted and have more complex prints and trims on them, but she doesn’t try to be as gaudy as many of the other ladies out of fear of catching anyone’s suspicion. She’s properly noble but still flies under the radar

Also special folk costume bonus round for my dear @daenystheedreamer I know she loves Sansa in folk costumes. Worn by the common folk during special occasions, like festivals and weddings and such, and sometimes Littlefinger let’s her attend to blend in a bit better. Sansa enjoys them enormously, as the clothes remind her a bit of her own clothing from home (Russian folk clothing)

#asoiaf #asoiaf hair and clothing #the vale might be hell and LF might be trying to give Sansa those pomegranate seeds but the fits are cute. To Me

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vikkicomics · 1 month

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(via "Saxon Folk Dress" Framed Art Print for Sale by VikkiComics)

#findyourthing #redbubble #saxon folk dress #german #ottoway

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dracula-dictionary · 9 months

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Dracula Dictionary, July 24th

Bay of Biscay: the part of the Atlantic Ocean immediately north of Spain and west of France

round robin: a petition or protest on which the signatures are arranged in a circle in order to conceal the order of signing

Whitby: a seaside town in the north of England

the Crescent: a street in Whitby

viaduct: a type of bridge that consists of a series of arches supporting a long elevated road

piers: the pillars that a viaduct's arches rest on

Nuremberg: a city in the south of Germany, one of several german cities that are known for their fachwerk houses that Mina references

Danes: the people of Denmark. Danish vikings are known to have raded English settlements in the 8th and 9th century

Marmion: a long poem that deals with love, betrayal, and revenge and is partially set at Whitby Abbey; at some point in the story a nun is sealed inside of a wall for breaking her vows, however this actually takes place at Lindisfarne, an island that is signifiantly closer to the Scottish border than Whitby

white lady: the ghost of a woman that typically appears inside houses wearing a white dress

parish: a part of a the territory that is overseen by a bishop, with its own church and a designated priest

Kettleness: a hamlet by the sea, just northwest of Whitby

shoals away: becomes shallow

Waterloo: a city in Belgium, previously belonging to the Netherlands, where Napoleon was defeated for the final time in 1815

fash masel: worry myself

them things be all wore out: Those are tired stories

comers and trippers: tourists

feet-folks: people who travel on foot

jet: a type of gemstone

creed aught: believe anything

fool-talk: nonsense

gang: go

ageeanwards: towards

crammle aboon the grees: climb up the stairs

belly-timber: food

sairly: badly

#we've entered the phonetically written section of the book #which means that i will be suffering #dracula daily #re: dracula #dracula dictionary #24 july #dracula daily 24 july #dracula dictionary 24 july

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in-pleasant-company · 1 year

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Kirsten's Swedish dirndl

Livkjol ("waist skirt"), circa 1700-1799, Nordiska museet

Livstycke (bodice), circa 1825-1850, Nordiska museet

Småland (Värend) from Svenska folkets seder, bruk och klädedrägter by Carl Anders Dahlström, 1863 via Wikimedia Commons

Folkdräkt (Värend), Nordisk familjebok vol.8 Folkdräkt, 1908, via Wikimedia Commons

Folkdräkt (Sunnerbo härad) and Folkdräkt, (Södra Unnaryds härad), Nordisk familjebok vol.8 Folkdräkt, 1908, via Wikimedia Commons

Klänning (dress), circa 1850-1860, Nordiska museet

The Mysteries of Kirsten’s Swedish Clothing - The Limits of Historical Research

This skirt with an attached bodice might be what Kirsten’s outfit was based on. You might think that since it dates to the 18th century, it is not accurate to what Kirsten would have worn in Sweden. The recorded examples of folkdräkt (“folk costume”) from the province of Småland are very similar, although it seems it was more common for bodices and skirts to be separate pieces. They appear to have similar construction and layering as working class clothing from 18th century England. There is an example of a bodice with rattan cane "boning" which would likely have taken the place of a corset for adult women but other examples from the same time period do not have this.

In the 1850s, even farmers like the Larsons were moving out of the folkdräkt and into more modern clothing. Folkdräkt is documented as being worn for special occasions like weddings and church holidays but made in finer fabrics like silk. The couple on horseback is a bride and groom. The modern clothing is simple, like the plaid dress shown here.

To add to the confusion, the designs of regional folkdräkt became more standardized to make them easier to replicate in the 20th century. For modern examples of folkdräkt from Småland, check out http://www.folkdrakt.se/bild/varend/varend.html. (The website owner has asked that pictures not be reposted).

Unfortunately, two books that would greatly increase my understanding of what Kirsten and her family would have worn in Sweden are both impossible to find in the United States, and only available in the Swedish language, although one of the books apparently has an English language index. (The books are Kvinnligt mode under två sekel by Britta Hammar and Pernilla Rasmussen, and Underkläder en Kulturhistoria by the same authors.)

And finally, dirndl is a German word!

#kirsten larson #the research for this made my brain feel like crying #american girl #historical inspirations

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sabosbabygirl · 1 year

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“All I Want For Christmas Is You”

König Christmas Edition 🎄🎅🏼

What he would get you?!!

-First lets start with what you are getting him. You both have crazy schedules and bc of COVID, traveling to Germany is out of the question, however, there’s a little town abt 3 hrs from where you guys live thats called Germantown. Neither have you been there and you heard they are doing a Christmas Market (these are huge in Germany). So you decide to book a 2 day stay at a mom and pop inn and tour their Christmas Market as his gift. You let him know in advanced so he can take a couple of days of leave (non military folk, thats days off). He is so excited. The man was packed a week ago and started to pack your suitcase as well. He likes things to be ready. While you are waiting for him to pick you up you feel a sudden urge to bring a dress. Idk, call it woman intuition. So you quickly run up stairs and grab that pretty red dress he likes and you grab a little something extra 😉. He pulls into the drive way honking his horn. The man showered at work and has his suitcase in the back seat of the truck. “Hello beautiful” and he leans in for a kiss which leaves you wanting more but you can wait.

The drive is decently fast bc you two are talking abt how work has been, that crazy chick you hate, family traditions, etc. When you pull into Germantown, you are stunned. It looks so similar to Germany and the snow makes it breathtaking. You see kids laughing, smell of Glühwein hits your nostrils and you see the mom and pop at the entrance of the inn waiting for you guys with a basket full of different German chocolates, knick-knacks and a bottle of wine. König starts speaking German, you understand some of it but you still need practice. He takes the basket and room key and says “Cheers.” You both head to the room.

The room is big and beautiful. Gives a very antique feel which König adores. The bed looks comfy and the view of the town is outside your balcony. “Shall we freshen up and head to get some food & Glühwein?” he says, whilst licking his lips. “Yes babe..its going to take me min though. Can you grab us coffee first?” you ask. He knows your love coffee runs deep within your viens bc he too loves coffee. “Of course, love” he says and with that he is out the door.

You took longer than you’d said, mainly bc you had a feeling tonight was going to be the night. You made sure to have your sexiest lingerie on under your dress and you did your makeup light in case he makes you cry. When you exited out of the bathroom you were surprised to see that this man had dinner, candles lite, rose petals everywhere and was in a nice suite. You began to blush…he is a romantic but you were always taken aback considering his job. Its like being with two different people. He pulls a chair out, motioning you to sit. You head over and place a kiss on his cheek and then sit. The kiss leaves him semi flustered but you can tell he is anxious abt something different, seeing how his eyes keep darting. “Babe, whats up?” you ask, “are you having an an anxiety attack, do you need me to get you something?” you ask concerned. “No. My love. I just..I can’t wait any longer. I want you to be in my life forever and I’m ready for the next step, if you are?” and with that he gets down on one knee (even at this position he is still taller than you), pulls a little black box out and opens it. There it was. The beautiful Alex Russell ring you had on your pinterest board. “Y/n, will you please marry me and spend the rest of your life by my side as my beautiful wife?” he asked. “Yes König” you say.

“Can we skip dinner? Because I really want to rip that dress off you and make love to my fiancé!” König asks. God you love it when he gets all slutty around you. And without you answering, he brings you to your feet and with with both of his veiny hands rips your dress off you, exposing the sexy santa lingerie you have underneath. The crotch part is open and the nipples are covered with two cute bows. König is instantly hard at the sight of you. “Well big guy, what do you want?” you raise your eye brow. “I want to fuck you slow and hard” he says and starts kissing you everywhere. You pull away to take his clothes off, but he stops you. “My clothes stay on. Each time you beg and cum, a piece of clothing comes off” he says. Your eyes grow wide. The man is going to have you cumming at the palm of his hands. His dominant side is by far his sexiest. He picks you up and gently tosses you on the bed. He doesn’t skip a beat and goes straight for in between. You feel his rough hands squeezing your thighs, “your thighs are so thick I just want to..” and he bites and kisses them. He spreads you open, and kisses your inner thighs until he gets to your lips. You feel his tongue licking your lips and slowly make their way to the slit. He uses his thumb on your clit and his tongue every where else. Moans escape from your mouth. “König please…pleasee I want you”. He ignores you, and starts moving his tongue to your clit and moving it fast…you moan louder and you feel your first cum escape. He smiles and lifts his shirt off. You protest. “I want your pants off” you whine. He raises an eyebrow, “are you going to beg or cum?” “I’ll beg” you say. A devilish smirk spreads across his lips. “On your knees”, he says. You get up, shakily, and get on your knees. “Well?!” he says. You raise your eyebrow and say “Daddy please take your pants off. I promise to be a good girl.” you say. You see him get flustered. You never called him Daddy before. “König, Daddy, please. I want to please you.” The man is like jelly with the word “daddy” and you can see how hard he has gotten since you said it. He takes his pants off and you can see a bit of precum. You look up at him, you can see the fire burning in his eyes. He wants you. Normally you’d start to suck his thick cock but in this moment something was different. He lifted you up and set you on the bed. “Lets cum together” he moans. With that he sits you on his face and eats you out while he jacks himself off. The man has talent. You both cum quicker than you’d like to admit. You get off his face and he pins you down on the bed. Him on top of you. He leans down to kiss you but you say “please fuck my pussy with you cock”, he smirks, “with pleasure, my love.” You guys ended up doing 5 rounds and then cuddled for a min and cleaned up. After you cleaned up you guys headed to the market and you noticed that people were staring at you and saying “atta boy” to König…you look up at your balcony and see that the doors were open this whole time and when you look at König, the devilish smile is back on his face 😈

#cod mw2 #konig x you #konig mw2 #konig #konig smut #konig x reader #cod mw2 smut #cod mw2 fanfic #könig x reader #könig cod #könig #könig call of duty

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