#konig in love

[nothingkillsyoulikeyourmind105]

“Painted Black”

Master List

TW- Mentions Death, blood.

König x Fem! OC

“Bravo Team Where The Hell Are You??!!” *Static**

König noticed someone trying to get through on the radio. It had been 5 hours since they received the call about an outbreak with a biological weapon.

“Ghost there someone on the radio?

König motioned to the radio.

He listened to the call again. This time realizing it’s a woman calling from the base that went dark hours ago. He took down her message and brought it to Captain Price attention.

“I’ll be bloody damned she’s still alive.”

“Ghost change of plans we head to the base and see if she can be picked up”

Ghost hesitantly wanted to ask but he turned in the opposite direction.

He never disobeyed an order but this time he did.

“No, we’re putting ourselves in danger. They are gonna blow that place she’s maybe infected. We don’t know anything about this biological weapon.”

“Simon turn back we don’t leave anyone behind”

“Price we don’t know if she’s dead or infected.”

“GOD DAMN IT SIMON YOU OWE HER!!”

“She saved your life more than once she took a bullet for a year ago.”

“She deserves that chance?!”

“She would’ve done the same for you!”

“That’s the difference between us. She cares too much and that almost got her killed more then once.”

“I don’t hold anyone close to me. They all die eventually.”

“Simon”

“Fine!”

Price reasons with Ghost.

“Alright the moment she twitches or growls I’m killing her”

“Fair enough.”

Price redirects the helicopter to the dark base.

Just as they start to come into sight of the base all they see is fire and a small explosion. Fires raging in the base and people lying dead all over some still moving and some running.

“Bloody Hell Look At That!?”

Ghost looks over the base. Seeing that this detour was a lost cause. Before he could make a remark he hears König on the radio calling for the mystery woman.

“This is Bravo Team over.?!”

**Static**

They wait around for 5 minutes no response. They leave the base they are 5 miles away from the base when they hear the radio crackle again.

“This is Sergeant Birdie anyone copy??”

“Does anyone hear me I’m coming out of the base I’m out of ammo and I’m getting to the exit.”

“Bravo Team copy’s you loud and clear.”

“Oh thank fucking god I’ve been calling and calling hoping no one forgot about us.”

“I’m out of resources and I lost everyone in my squad I’m almost to the exit they keep coming.”

“6 hours ago there was 12 of us now it’s just me. Please hurry I’m trapped and I’m fighting them off.”

“I’m-”

**static**

König tried to reach her but all he got was static.

“Scheiße, ich habe sie verloren.”

*shit, I lost her”

“Captain Price I lost contact with her.”

König looks to Price. Hoping he doesn’t give on her.

“Right! We don’t land and if she’s not out in the next 5 mins we leave. And we aren’t landing we don’t know the full extent of the situation down there”

*Back on the ground on the base*

“Fuck, fuck, fuck you all you fucking zombies”

“God damn it I’m stuck I need to get out of here, there has to be a way out”

She noticed movement in the background of the zombies that trapped her in the room.

“Run, fuck run outside”

The scientists for the base there were 4 of them they huddled together hiding in the vents. She tried to warn them but they started running out in the open. Watching them get attacked she use this as a chance to get out of the room she was trapped in. Running to the exit she closed the plexiglass doors and took out her last smoke bomb. Lighting it up hoping someone would see her. She grabbed a gun off one of the bodies and noticed no ammo she frantically looked around but the sounds of the door cracking for the weight being pushed against it. The fires raging by the door weaken the glass.

She jumped over some makeshift barricades and standing by the smoke bomb hoping Bravo Team will arrive sooner.

She didn’t see anyone coming. This was her fate to be to be torn apart by these hungry flesh eating creatures.

The sounds of of gunfire makes her take cover.

“Fuck fuck?!”

“I’m here”

She jumped out seeing the glass gave out she runs towards the chopper she jumped on top of some debris jumping up to the helicopter.

*fear filled her eyes as she leaped forward. At the bottom were the zombies in swarms. The sounds of gunfire echoed through the base.*

“Don’t let me fall?”

It was as if time slowed down for a moment when König jumped to her leaving his post as gunner. He jumped for her as her small glove hands slipped for the chopper

“I got you Maus?”

She looked at him with fear and adrenaline in her eyes. Her heartbeat was beating uncontrollably. She was covered in blood and smell of gunpowder.

“Thank you.”

“You Bravo team.”

“I’m Birdie from Zulu One Team”

“I’m the only one left. Everyone is gone”

“What the fuck happened??”

Price shuffled towards her listening closely to her story.

“My team and me were sent here with orders from Shepherd himself. To obtain a few files from here and bring them back. We had the files in hand as we were about to leave the place went into lockdown mode.”

“Lights were going off and I led my team to safety but by the time we reached the exit it was like hell broke loose. People attacking each other and biting each other. We managed to fight off a few but it started with the bites. A few of my squad members were bit and they turned within a few minutes.”

“Our numbers dwindled as the rest of my team joined the undead. I managed to find a safe place to hide for awhile with the remaining members of my team. But they protected me with their lives. We went back to the labs and found what the made and what the vials contained and we found they made a cure for it. The rest of the vials were destroyed. My team sacrificed themselves to keep me safe. I should’ve died with them but they gave their lives to keep me safe. I tried to call for air support for hours all my calls went unanswered. Until you guys heard my call for help.

“Where’s Shepherd?!”

Price looked at her.

“He’s on the run. He set us up too.”

“My whole Fucking Team my Family died down there and he’s on the run. I’m gonna kill him.”

“Wait where you guys during all of this. I was informed that you guys were supposed to be our support if anything happened. That’s why I tried to call everyone specifically looking for you guys.”

“Orders from Shepherd”

“We were called off at the last minute. We were with Alejandro and the Los Vaqueros. Shit really hit the fan”

“Yeah you can say that again.”

“Here is the vials”

Birdie hands them a black case.

König lost in the moment. He silently sits beside her towering her and he wants to say something but decides against it. He fell in love at first sight.

Despite Birdie being covered in blood and dirt and black soot all he sees is a beautiful face.

He stares at her memorizing every small detail of her face.

She doesn’t notice this at all. She’s busy talking to Captain Price.

He honestly doesn’t care this isn’t time for love.

But looking at her makes all the difference.

“Birdie”

a/n credit to the artist for the gif. Name is label beneath the gif.

#konig call of duty #konig headcanons #konig x oc #colonel konig #konig imagine #konig fic #konig zombies #konig mw2 #konig fanfiction #konig in love #konig cod #konig oneshot

[tacticalprincess]

simon and könig being unable to stop bickering for a second, even when they’re balls deep inside of you. they’ve got you in an Eiffel Tower, könig’s cock filling your glossy pussy while simon stuffs your mouth. it took ages of convincing for them to even consider this position, but eventually they decided to put their discrepancies aside for the sake of you, their precious, spoiled little thing. it didn’t last very long though…

“jackhammer much, mate? you’ve got her choking on me over here.” simon points out, his heavy hand stroking your hair soothingly. könig’s using your hips as leverage, bucking into you at a rabid pace, each of his thrusts lurching your body forward and forcing you to take more of simon’s dick down your poor throat. “what happened to treatin’ the princess with care?”

“it’s okay, she likes it. isn’t that right, maus?”

your cheeks warm up as you hum around simon’s dick noncommittally. nothing gets passed the l.t though, and suddenly he’s gripping you by your hair, pulling your mouth off his cock.

“wait, you let him fuck your face?” he asks, sounding genuinely offended.

you wipe the line of spit that trails from your swollen lips all the way to his still hard dick, hovering just out of reach. you huff. “he’s more sadistic than you…” you say sheepishly in response, voice staccato from könig’s thrusts.

“you tellin’ me i’m the soft sex guy? the aftercare fuck?”

“‘s alright, mate.” könig reaches over your naked body to pat his comrade on the shoulder. “youve got boyfriend dick. happens to the best of us.”

#sum slight idk i might love them #simon x reader x könig #konig cod #konig x reader #konig call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #könig smut #könig x reader #konig smut #konig x you #könig cod #bella writes⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ LIKE THE WAY I FUCK ('CAUSE I GET ROUGH) — an undercover mission with your superiors leads to compromised positions (in more ways than one)

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + könig

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, canon-divergence, age difference, slight power imbalance, jealous/possessive behaviour, discussions of violence, tags to be added

// NSFW CONTENT BELOW THE CUT //

Turns out, undercover missions involve a lot more make-up, perfume and dresses than you'd anticipated.

Being a seasoned task force operator, it's been months, if not years since you've been to a party outside of your barracks. Let alone one of this calibre; CEOs, billionaires on Forbes Top 50, politicians.

It's off-putting. 

All of it; it's stressful, and it feels as though your skin's crawling, having so much skin on display, so many eyes on you at once. You feel as though you’re an animal at a zoo, being inspected by families with their snotty-nosed kids.

"Sit-rep, Diamond?"

Swallowing around a dry mouth, you reply to your lieutenant's request through your earpiece, tone low and careful. "All as planned, Lt."

Ghost hums a low sound in reply, and your shoulders loosen slightly from their tense position.

You knew that your superior was already inside, having arrived ten minutes earlier. A small, selfish part of you wished that you'd have arrived with him, if only to see how he cleaned up.

Ghost? In a suit? It's like one of your deepest, most dirty of desires come to life.

Such thoughts that you'd never let leave your lips -- thoughts too likely to wreck your entire career and any opportunity to keep your relationship with the man.

"König?" Is Ghost's next question, although it's just the other man's name alone.

Right.

König.

The other superior featured in your dreams. Thoughts. Wank-material?

Whatever they are, they're becoming all too common, all too realistic, and all too risky.

"Successful entry," König replies, heavily accented voice low and quiet -- he's amongst people.

Your limo comes to a stop outside of the decorated museum, and a suited man opens your door with gloved hands. His upper lip is covered in a well-groomed pencil moustache, and you have to stifle a chuckle. Soap would’ve appreciated it.

With a small smile, you incline your head towards him, lifting up the fabric of your skirt so it doesn't brush against the gravel. It’s so… impractical, and you really can’t help but respect those that dress up like this on a regular basis. Looking down at your outfit, you let out a low breath.

When Gaz and Soap had burst into your room with shit-eating grins and a garment bag, you had just known that your dress was going to be... extravagant at best, and downright sinful at worst.

You were correct, of course.

So, here you are, walking down the red carpet into the building, cameras flashing and paparazzi screaming, in this... dress.

Silky black, strapless, and with crossing lines of fabric across your bare back. Chiffon skirts fall behind you, with a slit rising all the way up to where your thigh meets your hip bone. A gun hides beneath, strapped around your inner thigh, paired with your right, adorning a delicate yet hefty knife.

You look... not at all like a Sergeant on Task Force 141.

You look like a celebrity, one just out of her fans' reach. It's a surreal experience, and the mere thought of your two superiors (crushes) seeing you like this... It's frightening. Maddening. And, maybe, a tad bit exhilarating.

Gaz had insisted on doing your make-up -- having so many sisters made him a fully-fledged artist, apparently. And an artist he was, talented with the brushes of eyeshadow and flicks of eyeliner against your skin.

Soap, for his part, had begged for you to let him do your hair -- but considering his only experience was his mohawk, you were less than lenient. With a huff, he’d let you go to Laswell’s wife with the request, as long as he picked out your jewellery.

And now, hours later, your heels click against the stone tile as you enter the museum.

Soft lighting cascades all of the guests in gentle hues of yellow, laughter and polite mingling surrounding you as you enter the main ballroom, skirts brushing against your legs.

Chandeliers above glisten, a live-band plays beautiful jazz, and servers walk around with trays of champagne and finger foods.

It's nothing like you've ever experienced.

This mission, somehow, terrifies you more than the weight of a sniper in your hand and an order to neutralise.

"Target, six o'clock," Ghost's voice carries through your comms as you take position near the corner of the room. There’s fewer people here, and it allows you a moment to breathe and recalibrate.

Your eyes dart to the direction your lieutenant has supplied, and you catch sight of your target immediately. "Got eyes," you murmur softly, smile on your face as you pretend to fix your hair.

"Affirmative," König answers then.

"I haven't seen you before."

Whipping around to the source of the words, you find yourself face to face with a man who you've seen the face of too many times to count.

"Apologies for startling you," he inclines his head respectfully. He's got a few inches on you -- although you find it hard to consider him tall when you're with your superiors more often than not. His skin is closely-shaved, his blonde hair gelled to the nines -- and a smarmy, trust-fund baby smirk to top it all off.

Extending his hand, he announces, "I'm Phillip. Phillip Graves."

...Graves.

The last name of your target -- the son of your target.

"I'm Louise," you say with a sweet smile, taking his hand and shaking it. Your undercover name was going to have to come into play sooner than you'd hoped. "It's a lovely atmosphere, isn't it?"

"Positive, Diamond?" Ghost's deep voice instantly responds to your subtle codeword.

"Not as lovely as you, I'm sure," Phillip flirts, and you pretend to bat your lashes and hide your face from him.

"Ah... thank you, Sir. You're quite dashing yourself," you meekly reply, giving him a soft smile. 

Men like this were so easily played, you found. Not at all like the military men you were surrounded with on such a constant basis. Not at all like…

You can hear both König and Ghost swear underneath their breaths. Releasing the hold on your bracelet -- the one with the built-in comms button -- you shyly bite at your lower lip.

Phillip’s eyes track the movement, and if not for the stakes of this mission, it'd be almost comical.

"May I have this dance?" He asks, offering his arm for you to take. He’s adorning an obviously wealthy suit, dark blue and silky – and it rubs you in all the wrong ways.

You can hear your heart pound in your ears -- this wasn't the way the mission was supposed to go. But, then again, you didn't get into Task Force 141 by expecting every mission to go as planned.

"I would love to, Sir," you smile, wrapping your hand around his arm, allowing him to escort you to the main dance floor.

Subtly folding your hands together around his arm, you're able to push down the button on your bracelet. "You want us to dance in the middle of everyone? I'm not the best of dance partners..."

Phillip chuckles, but through your inner ear piece, you can hear König report, "Got eyes, Diamant."

Chills run down your spine. Either from this situation or…

Or something else that you're not entirely supposed to -- or allowed to -- feel. Not for those two men, and certainly not for your superiors.

"I'll lead you, darlin’," Phillip leans down to whisper into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. They’re thin, and chapped against your own skin.

His hand moves to sit at your lower back, just above your ass, and the other moves down your arm to interlace your fingers with his. It's an intimate position, your front pressing against his as he starts to lead you with the beat.

Of course you knew how to dance; you wouldn't have been picked for this role if you couldn't. 

However, you deliberately misstep a few times, just to play into Phillip’s ego -- his desire for control and intelligence. 

"For such a beautiful girl, you sure aren't the smartest," he jests, and it takes everything within you not to just swing your fist and leave him twitching on the dance floor. You could, realistically speaking, but that would cost you all the mission. And you would not let yourself, nor König or Ghost, down.

Instead, you nervously flit your gaze from him, moving in closer to his chest. By his squeeze on your lower back, you know it's the right decision. "I... I'm doing my best, Sir."

You want to crawl out of your own skin at the way you’re feeding into his misogyny, how you’re downplaying your own strengths.

He huffs, a demeaning, cruel thing.

"I want to shoot 'im," you hear Ghost mutter, and you'd be a liar to say that those words in that tone don't make you clench your thighs together as you sway against Phillip.

"Make it a competition, ja?" König quips. There's... irritation -- anger, maybe -- behind his question. It's so unlike the gentle giant of a man, and that fact alone has your breath coming out in a short pant.

Phillip, of course, thinks it's him making you so flushed.

With a vindictive smirk, he spins you, completely throwing you off balance. Maybe a tad too dramatically, you find yourself falling into his arms, giggling a little bit.

...It's worth it to hear Ghost grumble under his breath through the comms.

This whole situation doesn't feel quite real, and you know that their attitudes are nearly definitely due to the stray in plans. That's fine. That's all it can possibly be. It’s all that you’ll allow it to be.

But your mind has never been kind, and your imagination has always had the habit of wandering.

"Let's go get some drinks, hm?" Phillip asks, his hand falling dangerously close to 'inappropriate hand placement' territory.

You shoot him a seductive smile, nodding as he pulls you to the open bar, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, leaving you glued to his side. It’s a possessive position, and you find yourself wishing it was either of your superiors holding you in such a way instead.

"Don't drink anything he offers you," Ghost warns. You almost have the mind to chew him out for not trusting you with something so obvious, but... There's something about such subtle 

protectiveness that only feeds your elementary style crush on the man.

"I would love to," you reply as Graves leads you to the bar, hand only moving lower with every step the two of you take. Fear trickles down your spine, your hands squeezing tightly together at your front.

"Say the word and we get you outta' there, Princess," Ghost quips, sharp and to the point.

With your hands already together, you manage to reply an agreement in Morse code -- quick, successive taps of the communications button.

"Good girl," König replies, just a touch breathy from the quietness of his words.

You manage not to trip on your feet, but it's a close thing.

a small snippet, because i feel really bad for my lack of posts!! life is so insane atm its like a satire.

#⌨️ : love's writing #konig x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig smut #konig cod #konig x ghost #ghost x you #ghost x konig x reader #poly cod x reader #poly cod #könig x reader #könig cod #könig x ghost #ghost x könig x reader #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader

[simonrillleyyysss]

need to sit in between ghost legs as he tells könig the proper way to eat my cunt 🥲

KSEOODBAKDJDUFHRJEE ITS A NEED

sorry it’s short

ghost would be so bossy!! his arms gently wrapped around your neck, lips gently moving across your collarbone; listening to your soft mewls as the redhead between your thighs lapped at your cunt—tongue flicking along your folds, huffing in arousal!!

‘don’t rush, y’ need to take your time, go slow.’

the gruff voice above you commanded, hands moving to cup your breasts, gently groping at the fat;snickering as könig nodded, whining slightly—before slowing his movements; big nose bumping against ur clit!!

‘better. how’s it taste? tell us.’

the austrian let out a soft whine, your eyes fluttering back with soft gasps, his tongue flat against your cunt, hips grinding against his face—muffled speech coming from him, vibrations brushing against your puffy clit!!

‘tastes..tastes so good; sehr, sehr gut.’

‘yeah? sounds like it.’

the blonde mocked, reaching over to tug at königs hair, shoving the man’s face into your pussy, immediately eating you out like his last meal, hands digging into the curve of your thighs, panting like a dog!!

lewd slurping sounds caused you to hide your face in your hand, a chuckle erupting from ghosts chest, thumbs tweaking with your nipple, rolling the bud between his thumb and index finger.

‘gonna make them cum?’

‘Immer.’

#ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost x reader #ghost smut #dilf ghost #ghost is babygirl #könig x reader #könig modern warfare #könig imagine #könig mw2 #könig smut #könig cod #könig fanfiction #i love nasty konig #konig x female reader #konig x gender neutral reader #konig smut #konig x reader

[konigsblog]

there's one way to könig's heart, and that's food. 🍰

bake him a batch of cookies and he'll fuck you on the kitchen countertop, your tight ass sore from his balls smacking against your skin. he's growling out, thanking you with sloppy kisses. könig's cock aches inside the tightness of your wet pussy, coating him in your creamy, pearly arousal.

könig wants you to ride him. pinning you against the wall and holding you up with his calloused hands cupping your rear, rutting into your glossy, drooling hole relentlessly while the cake bakes in the oven. the taste of strawberry frosting lingers on his tongue from teasing each other with it, the sweetness, his favourite taste (aside from the taste of your aroused cunny).

mix his love for delicious treats with your body and könig is on cloud nine. he loves when you drip and smear raspberry and chocolate syrup along your stiff, perky nipples so he can wrap his soft lips around them, sucking them while tasting the sugary goodness of the chocolate and the fruitiness of the raspberry.

könig will crush you by laying atop of you. he's curled up against you, your breathing heavy and laborious when könig humps and grinds his swollen, big cock against your slit. chubby!könig will spray whipped cream into your little mouth, tasting the sweet goodness on your lips, the cake cooling in the kitchen, waiting to be decorated.

#chubby könig is good for the heart and soul #i think we would all love to be könig's dessert 🍪🧁 #orla speaks #konig cod #könig fanfiction #könig #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #konig x reader smut #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig #cod konig #konig smut #konig mw2

[kyhgwts]

Older!König x Fem!Reader

I love the idea of gentle and shy older!König but then he’s just an absolute beast in bed, like please? For my sanity?

Just imagine him being so quiet and put off to himself around everyone but you.

Walking around in the grocery store he’s trailing behind you as you push the cart, silently messing with your shirt nervously when someone comes up to you and makes small talk. He doesn’t dare make eye contact with them. It’s not that he is scared, god no, look at the man. But he just isn’t comfortable showing his real self to people who aren’t you. Maybe only your very close friends who come over a lot, but other than that? Absolutely no one.

He’s just so UGH like a big soft bear, silent and kept to himself but if anyone dares to mess with his territory (you) all hell will break loose.

He hates being out in public without you, because then you aren’t there to do all the talking. And he isn’t an asshole, so he has to respond back to people.

“Oh! Hi König!” He turns back to look at someone who he registered as a close friend of yours.

“Hallo” he smiles gingerly, he knew this friend of yours well enough they came over a lot, and he wasn’t shy by them.

“Where’s your attachment at?” They ask, smiling at their own joke. It almost makes him chuckle but that’s too far out of his comfort zone.

“Back at home, got sick” he would explain shortly, but not in a rude way because he respected this friend, they meant a lot to you.

“Well alright big guy, I’ll leave you alone. Tell her i said get well!” They said making their way for the end of the aisle, he just nodded.

How is he so big, but so gentle?!?! He’s so perfect :(

Like the perfect cocoon, laying in bed, you straddling his lap as you nuzzle your head into his chest and neck. His big arms holding you tight against him as he takes in your presence, the heat from your body, the weight of you making him feel secure, your hair wash smelling so good, as well as your perfume you always have on, he fucking loved it.

But oh if this man is in a mood? You have the time of your life.

“König! Please” you’d moan and cry, tear prickling from your eyes.

“Please what baby?” He’d ask all innocent, while he’s pounding into you, stuffing you so full you can’t even think clearly :(

He’d push down on your stomach, causing you to gasp at the familiar sensation.

“Yes! Yes yes yes yes” you’d sob, pushing down your hips trying to fuck yourself on him.

“My Süßes Mädchen“ he’d whisper, all while never giving you a break, pounding into you with his hand pressed hard into your stomach. (Sweet Girl)

The sound of skin against skin making him go feral, the wet sounds as he pounds into you making your cheeks go red, but he fucking loved it.

“Come on Kostbarkeit, let go for me baby” he groans, your tears streaming down your face in pure ecstasy. You loved this side of him, so masculine and beautiful. Taking care of you and that deep feelings in your stomach :( (Treasure)

Once you’ve came, and you’ve milked him for all he’s got he carefully lays himself on top of you. Making sure not to crush you. And loving on you like no other, head nuzzled into your neck as he kissed it, and hands roaming your body as he kept you close and your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck Mein Baby, i just can’t get enough of you” he’d whisper while his hands slide under your back, hands meeting up behind your head cradling it as pulls you closer.

You moan from the movement, his cock still deep inside of you.

You could stay like this forever, in his embrace, feeling so full and content.

You didn’t leave that bed for another few hours, as he made soft love to you, making sure you felt his love as he slowly rocked into you.

Life was perfect with your perfect boy around :(

#foryou #kyhgwts #smut is life #fluff #agegap #könig x reader #older!könig #older bf #könig call of duty #cod #könig smut #könig x you #konig headcanons #könig #i need him #i want this #please? #i need older König to make love to me

[lycheedr3ams]

Can we plz talk about this official picture from COD

HE IS SO CUTE GREMLIN OH MY GOD SO SILLY HE IS SO CUTE I WANNA GIVE HIM A HUG SILLY LITTLE BOY OH MY GOD SO CUTEEEEEE

#konig #konig call of duty #konig cod #cod mw2 #konig mw2 #konig headcanons #cod konig #cod könig #i love könig #könig mw2 #könig cod #he’s so silly #I love him #cutie pie #lychee speaks #Halloween

[jazmeanb]

Ghost and König sending you love. 

Do you love them back? (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

#sending love back to the girlies #ghost #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mwii #art #konig #könig cod #jazmeanb #hearts #fanart #MW2 #artwork #illiustration #ghost x reader #konig x reader

[sleepy-truper]

König and a small kitten :)

Please ask before reposting!

#könig #könig cod #call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #konig mw2 #i love him #god i love him

[your-local-jedi-commander]

Yeah I know Graves is not so blond but 🤫

(And bestie and I headcanon that Ghost is lol)

#lol #cod #cod memes #call of duty #simon ghost riley #konig call of duty #phillip graves #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #idk #mcdonalds #memes #i love these guys #sm

[pettyprocrastination]

SHUT UP SHUT UP. I'M DRUNKanD HORNY NOW BC OF YOU. calling konig big bear

PLEASE.

HE'D FREAKING LOVE IT. maybe gets into a primal play type beat. anyways. gotta go write a paper but I'm thinking about him

FUCK

i think initially his size is definitely an insecurity for him. It's part of the reason he wasn't able to become a sniper and something that draws people's attention to him simply because he's looms over nearly everyone when he walks into a room.

      The first time you call him big is in the field when he saves you from getting your head blown off.

     You hardly have the time to react. All you hear is the crack in his voice as he roars out "Sniper!" before he slams into your side and sends you toppling to the ground.

     He cups the back of your head in his head before you make contact with the ground.

     There's a moment of silence between the pair of you. your own body dwarfed by his that keeps you pinned to the dirt. Panic seeds its way into his mind and he wonders if you hit the ground too hard before a wide grin splits your face in half.

     "Thanks big guy."

     As time goes on, he’s hardly ever König to you. Its Big guy. Big man. Big fella. 

     Big. Big. Big. 

      His size is no longer a point of contention or something whispered about by others in the mess hall when he walks by. It spoken of like praise. Rolling off your tongue in a way that feels far to dirty to be said in public as you bump your hips to his in a joke he isn’t quite sure he understands. But he likes it anyways. He likes you. 

      That how he became your Big bear. 

     The first time you said it, he swore he had found nirvanna. Your hands tangled in his hair while riding his cock in the barracks. The poor man had worried about hurting you, but you were quick to put his worries to ease. 

     “Your perfect.” Your voice trembled in his ear as you mewled against the crook of his neck. “So perfect, my big bear.” 

       König savors the way you say it. The highest praise ever offered to him. 

      “My big bear.” you pulled away to look into his eyes and smiled. “That’s you, isn’t it? My big bear?” 

      König didn’t care if in that moment the entire squadron heard him as he moaned out “yes, yes.” while fucking into you without abandon. All he cared about was the way your cunt fluttered around him as he fucked up into you and the smile on your face when you called him yours. All the soldier could do was snap his hips against yours and nod against your chest while mumbling an endless chant while making you cum.  k

     “I’m yours. I’m your big bear. Yes, yes, please, please, please. Say it again? Call me your big bear please, please, please. ” 

#konig x reader #we are now konig girlies #this is an attempt at a smut drabble im SORRY #he loves being called your big bear and he loves eating pussy sorry guys i dont make the rules :/ #könig x reader #König x you

[frogchiro]

Here is an idea but a feral Minotaur König to juxtapose Gladiator Ghost.

Minotaur König belongs to @kneelingshadowsalome so if you want more of it please go check her blog out!! She's so talented and pays so much attention to details, I'm in love ;;

But! I imagine Minotaur! König to be something more like a spectacle, something to be presented and paraded around like the most prized bull for the peasants to gawk at. And he hates it. Despises it. He's been captured and enslaved like some animal and shown off as if he's more of a possession than actual living, breathing, sentient being.

He wouldn't be even let into the Coliseum in fear of someone actually besting the 'beast' and what would that mean for those soft, spineless men in fancy clothes who make a fortune out of him as he's paraded naked all over the Coliseum, his tail lashing behind him and his ears twitching from the noise. Shut up shut up shut up shut-

Suddenly the entourage made out of guards is stopped in front of a luxury balcony where apparently the most fancy people sit and-

Imagine Minotaur!König being given to you as a gift for the fairest Lady (Y/N), the esteemed Lady-In-Waiting of Lady Jokaste, sister of the Emperor. This wonderous beast was bought by her and given to you on your 21st birthday, the most rare of gifts and 'the rarity only fitting for a rare beauty like you', sung Lady Jokaste as she gazed at you with fondness while you literally couldn't utter a single word.

Imagine that although technically König is your possession in all means, you still treat him so so gently and carefully, putting healing ointment on his scars and new cuts instead of perfumed oils which irritated his wounds and skin further. You massage his strained muscles gently and shush him whenever he starts making loud, booming noises, probably of pain leaving his body.

And you're so skittish too, adorable. Like a pretty young doe you flinch at the slightest movement the bull makes, the jingle of the thin chain attached to a joke of a collar makes you jump and flush at the deep chuckle of the beast but König is delighted that he can make this pretty nymph jump and twitch, however he'd rather like you twitch on his large cock...

Speaking of which, yeah he hates wearing that pesky loincloth even if its silk, so most of the days he just forgoes it and walks around naked in all his glory. His huge, fat cock often twitching and leaking thick sperm whenever he catches your scent which is everywhere in your chambers or even better if he catches you when you're sitting around and lounging or preparing for a bath and you catch his heavy, lustful gaze :((

He chuckles, rumbles and chuffs at you from his place on the comfy bed of pillows and furs, laid out all bug and spread, his heavy, veiny cock spurting out so much cum it stains the pretty soft pillows and his full balls are so huge and so heavy, they are starting to ache y'know? :((

Why don't you come here pretty little nymph? All he wants to do is thank you for your kindness by tickling you with his long tongue and giving you his calf, wouldn't it be perfect? </3

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #RAAAAH thank you for the delightful ask dear!! #this is much less feral than anticipated but I just love minotaur König too much ;; #minotaur!könig #hybrid au #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig x you #konig x reader

[wordstome]

SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED A BIG TALL GUY WHO GOES “!!! 😳” WHEN YOU FLIRT WITH HIM OKAY. SORRY FOR HAVING GOOD TASTE!!!!!!

#I’m not actually mad at anyone or responding to anything #I’m just in one of those moods I get where I’m furiously madly in love with König and can’t stop thinking about him #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #König x reader #König x you #konig x reader #konig x you #cod #call of duty #2am thoughts #Bucca speaks

[simonrillleyyysss]

thots on könig with a smaller reader who cums way too quickly, and könig holding her orgasm out? :( ☀️

no pressure -- ignore or delete, sweetheart <33 💐💗🌷

omg hi orla!! thank u 4 ur request :3

he is so, soso cruel— he knows how sensitive you are, and likes to take advantage of that constantly:(( likes to abuse his power over you during sex!!

he has his nails digging into the flesh of your hips, freehand digging your face into the mound of pillows beneath your head, soft babbles and huffs leaving your heaving chest, breasts bouncing with each harsh thrust he gives your sore cunt, his thumb has been circling at ur clit for hours

but he just won’t let you cum :((

“köni—köni please..”

a chuckle erupted from the redheads throat, hoarse voice rasping in your ear, hips continuing to slap violently against your own, your legs almost buckling beneath you— all you could do was hold onto the bedsheets and let out cries, drool spreading along the fabric!!

“come on, mein herz.. you can hold it, ja?”

if you cum without his permission?? oh gosh!! he’s shoving his cock down your throat and fucking your pretty mouth, lips wrapped round his cock till he’s cumming in your mouth, making you clean up all of his warm spurts

“that’s it, schatz—dirty whore, you like this?”

yanks you up by your hair and shoves two fingers down ur throat to make sure you’ve swallowed it all

if you don’t cum like he said— you’re so good! he’ll press a hand to your clit, listening to ur little cry, legs shaky and eyes hazy with need; his length battering your cunny with no shame—clit twitching as he rubbed quick circles

wont stop until you’re squirting all over his abdomen, trembling and sobbing with overwhelming pleasure

#screamed when i saw it was orla #my idol?? #i love nasty konig #konig x gender neutral reader #konig x female reader #konig headcanons #konig cod #konig smut #konig x you #konig x reader #cod konig #könig smut #könig headcanons #könig x you #💞} requests open! #💞} anon answer! #💞} riley rambles #💞} riley speaks<3 #💞💞💞 #simonrillleyyysss

[konigceo]

könig cumming 2 quickly

written by a minor

könig gets all shaky whenever he's abt to cum, n it gets sooo much more intense when he cums early :( he gets worried for a second, worried that u would be disappointed in him for cumming this early on. it's honestly ur fault, u just feel too good that he can't help!!

könig tries his best to make you stop grinding onto him, trying to delay his impending orgasm. but ofc it doesn't work, u were so needy for him all day, and needed his cock right then and there!!! he honestly loves it when ur all over him, he feels so useful to u :(

könig's hands tremble at your hips, whimpering your name out so sweetly, 'bitte, bitte..' he pleads. könig's mind turns to mush, poor guy doesn't even know what he's pleading for :( he's so conflicted, he doesn't want you to stop, but he doesn't wanna cum so easily like a horny teenager :(

it's been so long since he's felt this fucking good, maybe it's the long deployment getting to him. könig spurts his load inside of you, shame coursing in his veins. his mind is racing, not just from the orgasm, but from the pure shame he's feeling :( he's a seasoned colonel, a grown man, yet he comes unraveling at your pussy.

as you momentarily stop, könig utters a quiet apology. 'mein liebe.. i- i'm sorry, i didn't mean to cum so quickly,' he mutters. you reassure him, telling him that you're glad you made him feel that good. könig still feels bad, cumming before you did, so he makes sure you cum an extra 2 times!! he wants to make it up to you, not like you didn't enjoy it ;)

#lala speaks ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ #könig x afab!reader #konig x afab!reader #könig smut #konig smut #könig headcanons #konig headcanons #könig x fem reader #konig x female reader #könig #konig #könig mw2 #konig mw2 #HELP LMAO i wrote this on my camping trip #its very nice out here #love it #i loveeee the beach omg #my hands r freezing tho #its so cold

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city. 

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him. 

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun. 

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?” 

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that. 

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices. 

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly. 

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again. 

And again… And again. 

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him. 

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby. 

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing. 

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you. 

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes. 

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe. 

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check. 

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over. 

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his. 

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men. 

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore. 

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her. 

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table. 

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are. 

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles? 

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good. 

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?" 

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?" 

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared. 

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends. 

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary. 

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours. 

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again. 

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?” 

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now. 

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?” 

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts. 

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again. 

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister. 

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x nun!reader #forbidden love #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you