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yandere-sins · 1 year

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Ok but like… can you do some yandere NSFW könig headcanons? Like if you disobeyed him and you were crying and scared of the punishment but he has to do it but he’s super horny I’m sorry ignore if it’s too thirsty I’m down bad 😩😩😩

You, me, everyone lol. Thank you guys for being down bad for this anxious bad boy, I love him too ♥

Rated Lemon, 18+

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♡ If you put huge body mass, anxiety, and social awkwardness in one man, you cannot expect him not to absolutely simp for his darling in any and all ways possible to mankind. Of course, he tries so hard to make you like him and gain your favor until you finally cave in and comply with him asking you to come to him for cuddles. König didn't know he'd get a massive boner the moment you straddle his hips either, but well... now it's there, and he's biting his lip to the point of drawing blood, ready to fall to his knees, begging you not to abandon him once you notice and jump off him. If you don't notice it right away, mistaking the boner for his muscled thighs, you'll probably find out about it from his heavy panting and strangled breaths as he barely lasts a few seconds before cumming in his pants. He's so fucking ashamed and still so fucking hard afterward that it's painful.

♡ I know the real question is: Does he whimper? And tl;dr: He whimpers. It's such a glorious, stammering mess when his cock gets the tiniest bit of attention. König thanks, moans, praises, and then thanks you some more for the opportunity to fuck you, disregarding if you were on board before he started his merciless thrusts or not. Up to climax, he is all but praising the lord for how beautiful, amazing, and enhancing his life you are, and how tight, warm, wet, and well you're taking him. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. Only to then, abruptly, grow quiet, breath halting as his body tenses, a strangled squeak escaping him as his cock pulses inside you, ready to release all this pressure that has built up for years. It might become a problem that he can't shut up in further sessions because he's downright annoying as he goes on and on while you're trying to reach your own orgasm somehow through the awful experience. But if you demand it from him, König will do his damn best, sounding like a miserable squeaky toy every time he thrusts into you and isn't allowed to say something. It's this hard for him to stay quiet.

♡ He's a huge premature ejaculator with too much stamina. No matter the reason you two are fucking—be it out of emotions overcoming you two or because he can't take it anymore and takes you out of uncontrollable need—König is all but over the moon over every touch or breath against his cock. If there's any warmth to plunge into (mouth/pussy/ass), he's cumming from the slightest stimulation, like a lick or his tip sliding in, only to then get a real taste as his hips move on their own, driving his cock deep inside with no restraints and his jizz as the lubricant. There's no holding back once he's inside you either, as he keeps plowing through both of you continuously reaching climax until he's finally satisfied. However, he still cums more times than you do, filling you up to the brim. I blame it on his lack of real-life experience, so over time and training, König, too, will last a little longer. Though this also means there really isn't a way to tease him for the first year of being caught up with him. König just cums from everything you do once he had a taste of you, even if it's just something like you having nothing clean to wear and putting on his shirt. The stains everywhere are abhorrent.

♡ I do totally believe that König's darling is likely his first and last relationship despite the... situation you two have with him kidnapping you and now using you as a cumdumpster as well. So he's still quite inexperienced, BUT he works incredibly hard to please you regardless. There are surprisingly a lot of tutorials these days on how to please your partner, and König is all too happy to try them on you. Making you cum ultimately also makes him cum, but he's genuinely doing it for you first and foremost, and it elates and motivates him to see you shivering and climaxing right in front of his eyes. There's something so satisfying in knowing he can do this to you, and it almost makes König believe if he keeps going, you'll fall in love with him at some point. He's too delusional to know when to stop or listen to you begging him to accept it when you say no. Once he starts fulfilling his desires, there's no way anyone can stop him. It's like fucking you becomes his second way of breathing.

♡ König probably wouldn't use sex as a harsh punishment. However, he really hates arguing with you (it upsets his anxiety badly), so if he finds out that he can stop arguments with his cock or fingers, there's a very high chance he'll use them against you. Listening to your gurgles or moans is like heaven after the hell every argument is for him, so he'd rather 'punish' you by facefucking you or fry your brain by having you hang from his thick fingers until you're a drooling mess. It's a charming way to stop unnecessary bouts of emotions, and once he learns to keep himself more in check, he'll be happy to leave you behind to go about his day after making sure you can't form any coherent thoughts anymore that would cause more arguing. It's like he resetting you back to more peaceful times, and it works well for him.

♡ While König doesn't like anything that can potentially harm you (he believes that sex should be nice and loving and a wonderful experience for you both while he forces you to take him like an animal), he does have his fair share of kinks. He's totally on board with trying everything once as long as it's between the two of you since he really doesn't like sharing you with anyone. His favorites will always be kinks that mark you in some way, be it covering you in cum, biting, scratching, leaving hickies, painting your inside whites (and all the kinks that support this), and watching it drip out of you as if that means you belong to him now. He also loves all kinds of things that enhance the experience, like groping, toys (though he gets childishly jealous of them), forcing you to roleplay (authority kink in both ways, baby!), foreplay sessions, etc. And when he does realize he might have worn you out, König will simply resort to using your worn underwear or getting off between your thighs to finish his session alone. Nothing compares to being inside you, but it's a pleasant alternative every once in a while.

♡ His curiosity, however, has led to a few reprehensible times, too, especially when it comes to applying his strength. His hands are just a bit too big when they wrap around your throat, and had he not snapped out of it, he might have snapped you. The same goes for being so lost in fucking you that he doesn't realize he's accidentally ramming you into the headboard or slamming you into a wall. Sometimes he won't realize he's squeezing the air out of your lungs with his weight on top of you. Occasionally, these things happen, and they ruin the mood for both of you. Worn out by PTSD, things become increasingly dangerous as he remembers moments from the battlefield, even though you are in front of him. It feels like he's trying to crush you with his arms until you panic and scream his name to pull him back to reality and out of the memories of him killing soldiers with his bare hands. König is so devastated whenever he does things like this, trying to get you comfortable by holding you and coddling you even though you want nothing more but to get away from him. He'll cry and apologize so much that the rest of the day is ruined, and he can never forgive himself for confusing you with a damn bastard on the battlefield. No matter how much you struggle, you won't be able to get out of his hold now either, as he needs to feel you as close as possible to know you're okay while he goes through a full-blown anxiety attack over what he did. But hey! At least you're alive... barely.

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saturncodedstarlette · 1 year

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König, kneels in front of them : I’ll slaughter them. Each and every single one of them until I stand in a sea of blood.

König, with heart shaped pupils : I’ll paint the moon red with it, so every night when maroon moonlight bathes their lonely graves no one will ever even dream of disrespecting you, my darling.

Y/N, not creep out one bit : ☺️

Y/N, lifts his hand to kiss his knuckle : Yes, please baby.

Dividers credit : @kimjiho1 ♥️

#Cod #Call of duty #Call of duty incorrect quotes #Call of duty x reader #Cod König #König #Cod König x male reader #Cod König x fem reader #Cod König x gn reader #König x you #König x oc #König x reader #Original : greeneyedgolenchild #original : tumblr #Yandere!König #Obsessive/Possessive König #Even Y/N is a Yandere too 👀#I’m in my Yandere era 🤤🥺🥵❤️‍🔥#Yandere [1]

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totallykonigssoulmate · 5 months

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Yandere/Kidnapper!König headcannons/fic idea (gn) (Feel free to add on to it since I ran out of ideas!)

Tw: Kidnapping and Yandere themes

No randomly placed german bc I find it kinda… 🤨 (Makes me feel like a weeb saying “Ohayo, Onii-Chan!~”)

Also this was written at like 3am for not muchhh I can write abt eheh…

I had this idea in my head for a while now… What if Yandere/Kidnapper!König washed/sanitized himself before touching his darling because he feels dirty and disgusting compared to them 🤭. I bet the years of being bullied, being in the military, and his social anxiety would have taken a pretty big toll on his mental health. And it would be reflected in the way that he treats his darling! König would be meticulous about how he bathes, scrubbing his body at least 3x all over before visiting his lovely angel down in the basement.

König would be absolutely delusional in the way he views them. Worshipping every single cell on their body, caressing their soft thighs (compared to his) while burrowing his big, dumb head into them. Hell, he even got an angel costume for them to wear, which of course fueled his delusions. It wouldn’t be skimpy, something long and covered more skin would let his imagination roam more than if it was just bare skin. Would probably move his entire bedroom to the basement to be closer with his darling. Probably would have multiple notebooks detailing everything that happened everyday.

#könig x reader #könig #könig fanfiction #yandere!könig

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diejager · 8 months

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any thoughts for yandere!pervy!könig who has to resist from fucking you so hard? knowing you're too weak and fragile to ruin, but palming himself through his pants whilst bathing you, or creeping on you as you sleep!!! 🥹

ignore if you want to!! can be somnophillia/noncon if you want 🎀🩷

How exactly am I supposed to ignore this??? This is such a good idea!

Yan!Pervy roommate König x fem!reader

Cw: Perverted König, dub-con, somnophilia, panty sniffing, panty stealer, scent/musk kink, handjob, tell me if I missed any.

He just can’t believe how lucky he got when you answered the ad for a roommate. He knew you were searching for a place to move in, wanting to move out of your parents’ place as a first step into independence and he’d purposely put the ad out a few weeks before you moved. The rate was low, lower than most apartment would cost - even for a old, beaten flat, but his was new and well-maintained - it was his way of silently coaxing you to room with him. König had declined every other, keeping it open until you finally contacted him.

The days between your first interaction and your move in were a blur in his mind, dazed with ecstasy and joy to be have you at an arm’s length. You were so small compared to him - as most people were - and so weak and fragile, limbs a third to his and as strong as a child in his eyes. You were so innocent and untouched, your tight little cunt still a virgin in this age. You were temptation on two legs.

He can’t remember the first time he peeked through the crack of the bathroom door, the glass shower doing nothing to hide your wet, naked skin as he palmed himself, groaning lowly as he fished out his hardened cock. He pumped himself, hand twisting as he reached the swollen head of his cock, thumb pressing against the leaky slit and using his precum as lube, jerking his hardened length more easily. He came at the thought of running his hands on your skin, kissing your collar and biting that beautiful neck, digging his hands into your thighs as he fucked into your small cunt. He hurriedly cleaned up and tucked himself back into his pants, burying the flush on his skin as he waited for you to finish your shower.

After the first month, jerking off while watching you shower wasn’t enough, he humped your cushion when you were out, dragging his drizzly cock over your bed. Face buried in your sheets, he drinks in your scent, that sweet rose and vanilla smell of your shampoo as he rutted into his tight palm, imagining that he was between your warm walls. König could come at the idea of covering you in his musk, your hair smelling like him, you skin tasting like him, you cunt leaking of him. He came so hard that it spurted all over your bed, his cum was on your blanket, on your bedsheet, on your cushion and on your headboard. Fuck, he loved the idea of covering you and your things in his cum.

When coming in his hand to the sight of you in the shower and your empty bed wasn’t enough, he slipped into your room at night, the only sound in your shared appartient being you soft snoring and his laboured breaths. He stroked himself, teasing his throbbing cock with slow pumps and watching your innocent oblivion to his dirty thoughts while you slept. He was crouched over you, his figure looming over your figure when he came, thighs spread wide over your hips and hand clawing your bedsheet besides your head, you warm breath hitting his wrist.

You’d wake up without knowing why you were coated in crusty substance or why you were missing another panty, your pretty, blue lacy panty gone from your drawer. König would be in his room, holding your pretty lace lingerie over his nose, sniffing it while he pumped himself. God, König couldn’t stop himself from covering your underwear in his load before handing it back to you, saying that he found it somewhere in the house. Then you’d wear it, your sweet cunny over the spot he came on, making him purr in satisfaction, a branding on you in the deepest way possible since he couldn’t bully his cock into you just yet.

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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

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i love your writings so much! i need you to write about könig with maid!reader like i need air and water. könig who needs someone to take care of his house while he‘s gone, returning from his deployment only to find reader huddled up in a soft blanket on the couch, the house smelling of freshly baked cinnamon bread and lavender while she sleeps peacefully. he‘s so touch starved and the domesticity makes his heart and cock stir, he‘s never had any woman cook for him since his Oma passed away. poor reader is oblivious to her boss‘s infatuation until she‘s not, he‘s so awkward around her she thinks he just doesn‘t wanna be disturbed, but she doesn‘t know he uses her conditioner to stroke his cock every night, and now he can‘t help but get a raging boner everytime she passes by and he smells her hair :((((

Banner picture credit: @661ave

possession

noun

the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

Word count: 7 k Tags/warnings: 18+ only DARK FIC. Perv!König masturbating to thoughts of you + your stolen panties. Jealous & possessive behaviour. Dubious consent to having unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, size kink, breeding kink, implied age difference. Some fluff if you squint. A/N: First of all, I'm sorry if you expected something sweet & fluffy anon… This thing just came out of me. Also, @gremlingottoosilly wrote the best thing EVER for this trope so please if you haven’t read it yet go give it a read (dark content there too though so be warned!)

He’s good at repairing things. He prides himself in that.

And he keeps his house neat and clean: that’s not a problem. His papers are in order, his office is in order. His home is in order too, and so is his whole life – love life included because there is none.

He always ensured he’s not dependent on anyone, he never seeked a mother from a partner. Just for self-reliance's sake, he knows how to do his own laundry and meal prep for weeks. He learned to fold his t-shirts with an orderliness fit for the military when he was ten years old, just so that no one would have the chance to say he needed a wife.

He always vacuums the entire house before deployment, does the dishes, takes out the trash. And he doesn’t hate house chores… but he doesn’t like them either. His house is a sad, lifeless, gloomy place to spend time in. It’s big enough for a family, it has everything he needs to host a night for friends, but he doesn’t have any.

Family, or friends, that is.

When he hears that his co-worker – the one with a frigid wife and five unruly kids – hired a maid to do the cleaning in the house, he pauses to think. He doesn’t have a chaos in his home, but he’s got enough money to make life a tad easier. Besides, it’s only expected of a man of his position to hire an assistant of some sort, is it not?

It’s just that he didn’t expect housemaids to be this… cute.

There are quite a few applications, and he’s a sick bastard for choosing the maid solely based on the picture attached to the CV. He told himself it was also because it looked like this lady needed the money the most. He's a generous man, so why not help a woman in need?

Another thing he didn’t expect is how his house would start to smell so nice and look so cozy. It’s the small details, the tiny little things that make his chest burn. The way she uses softener on his shirts and folds not only his shirts but his boxers, too, or places a scented candle on the table when the weather turns cold. It’s clearly for his delight because it’s not one of those overly sweet apple or caramel things but something fresh, maybe spruce or fir.

She even bakes for him on the days when he comes back. The fact that a beautiful young woman bakes for him stirs something unwanted and long-forgotten in his chest. The sweet scent of home baked buns makes his cock stir, too. His place has never seen a woman’s touch, no one has ever baked anything here…

And he certainly doesn’t expect to find his maid sleeping on his sofa when he arrives home one evening.

She stirs immediately, and apologizes profusely for making herself at home like this. She starts to stutter and explain how she’s had a busy week and difficulty with sleeping, how she simply dozed off while waiting for the rolls to bake in the oven.

He stops her in the middle of her flustered excuses: she can take a nap here any time, it’s not like the furniture is going to wear and tear from use anytime soon. He’s barely even home, so it’s good that someone enjoys the sofa, right? She can use his bed too if she wants. More convenient that way, ja?

He realizes he went a little too far when she looks at him like he just offered to fuck her on the kitchen table. Which he has thought about, to be honest, for a good long while now. In fact, he’s thought about it ever since she started in this position a month ago.

It's her fault for being so unsuspecting and lovely, and she's playing with fire when she takes more dangerous liberties by showering at his house. He finds a women’s conditioner bottle in the bathroom and once, he even catches her doing her laundry here too. There’s a pair of women’s underwear in the pile of clothes she politely informs he’d have to fold himself this time because she’s in a hurry to catch her bus.

He’s far more intrigued by the innocent, blush pink strings greeting him from amidst his black and dark green clothes than by the fact that his maid is breaking the rules. Other employers would give her a warning or simply say she no longer has to come and work here ever again. Showering at his place, washing her clothes in his washing machine and taking a nap on his sofa border on violating the terms of their agreement, but he couldn’t care less. He would carve a hole in his chest if that would make her happy.

When he finds out she’s busy because she has to work two jobs, he raises her pay, despite the fact that she’s sometimes late and at times, leaves a little too early. She does her job well enough, so there’s no reason to complain. He would simply like it if they saw each other more... Which is ridiculous, he knows, because the point of having a maid is that she cleans his house when he’s away.

It just feels so nice to arrive home now that she's here. He’s never looked forward to getting back to his bleak modern mansion, but now he’s pining for his leaves like a young recruit who's got a girl waiting for him back home.

Even if she’s not there when he gets back, he can savour her lingering scent. He sniffs the dark woolen spread she might’ve slept under just moments ago, he eats whatever freshly baked goodies she has made for him. He sleeps with her underwear tucked under his pillow, and reaches for them before sleep. Or then he grabs them in the morning when he wakes up, already hard.

It’s nice to have an unhurried fap at home than to relieve his needs in some small grey room of a boring military base. It's far more enjoyable to stroke his cock with her tiny, cute underwear spread over his face. Sometimes he wraps it around his cock and jerks himself off to a quick, groan-filled release, adoring the way his cum stains her blushing strings.

His showers last for about 15 minutes nowadays.

It’s unheard of for a soldier, and he read somewhere that lonely and depressed people take longer showers because the warm water is supposed to make up for the lack of human touch and intimacy, and that may very well be true… But he also wants to take his sweet time stroking himself while using her conditioner as lube.

Coconut or peach, vanilla or argan oil, he lathers it all over his cock and imagines her hot, wet pussy. His hand is too calloused to give him any illusions of softness, but the mind-numbingly sweet scent takes him immediately back to her. Her eyes, her soft smile. The dreamy sway of her hips, the elegance of her wrists as she moves some item out of the way to sweep or scrub or clean a surface.

He faps with slick urgency, wondering if her eyes would go wide if she saw his cock. He wonders if she’s noisy in bed – is she a screamer, or a moaner? Would she claw at his back or simply cling to him if he fucked her?

And god, how he would fuck her…

Slowly at first, draw moans out of that soft mouth until she begs him to fuck her hard. He would drag her shirt up and her bra down until her breasts are exposed, then watch how they bounce as he starts to fuck her with purpose. She begins to tighten around him, looking so fucking desperate as her cunt starts to throb and pull him in. The first moan of surrender is needy and tight when she cums around his shaft…

He never gets any further than that because his cock spills with a violent jerk. He cums, long and hard across the tiles. Loads and loads of hot seed go to waste as he groans loudly, not giving a shit about making so much noise. Feeling hollow and deprived for not being able to shoot his cum inside her and then stay there, snug and safe and warm inside her cunt, he allows himself just one single sob.

He just wants to know how it would feel to cover her whole body with his as he slowly pumps the last drops into her. Sigh afterwards, breathe together, hold her close... Search for her eyes, check if she's in rapture too. Watch her come down from it while still squeezing him down there. Perhaps she’d give him a pleased giggle and a cute, weary smile.

"Scheisse–"

He leans on the wall, knowing that he's lonely, filthy, sick and obsessed. He lives in a dream world, and the thick conditioner takes ages to wash off. The withdrawal phase is worse every time he indulges in his dark fantasies and then has to live without her for weeks and weeks.

She's just his maid, a hired employee. She’s just an innocent woman with her whole future ahead of her.

He's just a colonel at a notorious private military company… He's just an old, horny, depraved soldier. Calloused, fucked up, depressed. Girls like her don't want anything to do with a man like him.

…

She asks if he wants his house decorated for Christmas.

She asks it with bright eyes and such a lovely smile that he tells her he doesn't own such junk, but he can pay her if she goes to choose him some and then comes back to decorate his place. Their unusual agreement gets more unusual still as she nods with shining eyes, then goes to the city to choose his Christmas decorations for him. He even lets her use his car, which is unheard of.

Soon, his windows are filled with lights and there are mistletoes hanging from the ceiling. She puts fancy little elves in the window, places Christmas flowers and candles everywhere she possibly can. He walks around the house with a coffee mug in his hand, suddenly awkward and shy when watching his maid put up the most sophisticated, elegant and adorable Christmas decorations he has ever had or seen.

Is this what a home should look like…? Warm, and light, and pretty, filled with cozy, useless things?

But it's not the items she got him that make a home, no. Home now equals rich, home-cooked meals, or the mouthwatering scent of cinnamon rolls greeting him at the door. Home is a cute girl, returning his obsessive stare with a small smile and telling him to stay safe before he leaves to kill people. Home is a woman who's the perfect wife material, so fuckable and sweet, who's fussing over the fact that he doesn't even have a Christmas tree.

He gets it before her next visit – meaning, her next shift – and decorates it himself. It looks clumsy and uneven and a bit sparse, but she compliments him on it when she arrives. The looks she gives him are so warm and playful that he starts to have some hope – hell, a full surge of it – and he also starts to miss his hood. He's feeling awkward as it is around her, he doesn't need to be blushing in front of his suddenly flirtatious maid... Men don’t fucking blush when a woman flirts with them; they fuck them until their knees give in.

With no small amount of hidden guilt, he finally confronts her with her underwear, telling her she forgot something and that he found these in his laundry pile. Taking sick satisfaction from seeing how she's the one who's flustered now, he forgives her for washing laundry in his place. He's a merciful man, after all.

There's still some cum on the lace as he returns her possession to her, and he hopes he's just imagining the shock in her eyes when she takes them back. It's his way of saying that he likes her a lot, but the flirting ends immediately, the playful smiles stop, and he knows he fucked up big time. The warm, lively woman is gone, she suddenly resembles an ice sculpture who's about to flee his apartment at any given moment, and he could hit himself in the head with a big metal bat.

What the fuck was he even thinking? That a woman would appreciate it if he returned her panties covered in old, dried cum?

He's a fucked up pervert, and he has lived in a dream world, and now reality awaits.

He shuts down and shuts up after that, keeps the connection pure, pristine and professional. She's just here to do her job.

The holidays approach, and he's sulking, knowing that he won't see her again in at least six weeks. He'll have to make do without a maid, and he'll have to numb his whole soul to get through yet another lonely Christmas.

Well, not lonely: this time he spends it with the decorations she got him. They can keep him company during the lonely masturbation sessions. They can watch him live on takeout food and remind him what a horny, sad loser he is.

So his last attempt, his last minor sin is that he gets her a Christmas present. She's about to leave, hurrying to some place where she's loved and cherished, or then about to get fucked because she has her hair and make-up done. The jealousy creeps up his spine like a viper as he watches her get all dolled up.

She's so very grateful to him for allowing her to get ready here and use his bathroom, and he plays the generous, kind gentleman while gritting his teeth, trying to ignore another demanding erection telling him to dick her down and make her stay down. Make her bake for him and sit on his knee as he squeezes her tits and watches her stare turn dumb. Tell her to douse the lights and light the candles, tell her to undress in front of that stupid Christmas tree, order her to lie down on the mat and spread her pretty legs for him…

She's standing at the door, a cute girl turned into a seductive goddess, while he's about to enter into another lonely brain fog. She grabs her coat and grants him one of those warmer smiles as he walks to her with an envelope in hand.

"I got you something... Merry Christmas."

"Aw… You shouldn't have…"

She accepts his gift delicately with both hands, clearly surprised and pleased. When she opens the gift, she laughs and then covers her mouth with her hand. It's a gift card to Victoria's Secret, and with a relatively large sum on it, too.

"Oh god... Ahah, okay. I like your humour," she laughs again, then gives him a wink and an exceptionally gorgeous smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He's fully aware that he sounds like an ominous, threatening robot. His voice has an effect on women; most flee, some get curious. She's one of the few who don't know what's good for them at all.

He never had a gift with females, and even with his position, experience and age, he still feels like he’s trying to court a breathtaking alien species whose native language he can’t quite understand or speak. The silence stretches on, and her smile slowly fades, making him perfectly aware of the fact that he should say or do something assertive, something charming, instead of just standing here, looming over her. When the playful stare then turns into a helpless, pitying one, the kind his mother used to wear when she discovered he had been bullied again at school, his hands start to go numb.

Jerk off and kill, those are the only things he ever was good for…

"Mm... I'm afraid I have nothing for you," she says apologetically.

Ach so… She’s ashamed for not getting him a present.

Well, shit. Fuck.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean… I thought about it. You're the kindest employer I've ever had. I really appreciate it... and I love working for you."

"That’s nice to hear."

"I just didn't know what to get you. I don't know what you like."

He's trying to ignore the pull of his chest, the sick burning in his loins. His cock is stirring just from the way she's looking at him. Inviting, adoring, waiting.

"You already got me Christmas decorations."

"Yeah, but… You paid for them."

"Aber... You baked for me. No one's ever–"

He shuts his mouth before making a complete fool of himself.

"Well, I'm glad you liked my buns," she laughs, then bites her lip, realizing what she just said could be taken in many ways.

"I truly did."

She guides her stare to the floor and smiles, and the electricity between them… it just can't be only a fabric of his imagination.

"Take care of yourself. Ok?" He says, then swallows a lump in his throat, but it never quite goes down. She’s still waiting for something; the tension between them is petrifying.

"I will," she says, her voice a bit frail, and far too sweet. "You too. Take care."

She gives her last smile to him; it’s sad and somewhat disappointed as she turns around and reaches for the door.

"Wait," he calls, purely from the hard instinct that tells him to fucking do something about this heavy, sickening tension. She immediately turns with hope in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I… Ah, glückliches neues Jahr."

"...What does that mean?"

"It means 'Happy New Year'."

"Oh," she laughs, "I thought it was something naughty…"

Shit.

Shit…

"Ich möchte deine Muschi lecken."

She freezes with her hand still on the doorknob. That fucking sentence was so dark it left little or nothing to the imagination... It was thick enough to make it clear that he’s not a kind, generous employer, nor is he a gentleman.

"What's that?" She asks, her pretty voice barely a whisper.

"Something naughty."

Her hand lets go, it falls to the side. She even tilts her head before her voice turns thick and suggestive too.

"Really…?"

"Yes."

"Well don't be shy. Tell me what it means."

Playful, naughty, dirty.

She wants to fuck. She wants to fuck.

Is this a filthy dream or is this really happening?

"I want to lick your pussy."

There's an intake of air, just a soft gasp. Batting of long, dark lashes, just before the stars in her eyes start to shine in full.

"Oh," she breathes. "Is that so?"

"Ja."

It wouldn't be the first time someone offers him cunt just out of spontaneous pity. It wouldn’t be the first time he accepts it. A man like him takes whatever he can get.

Pity is apparently what's happening now, because his maid starts to undress.

With a victorious shine in her eyes, she drops her coat to the floor, then unbuttons her jeans. Takes away her shirt and bra with shaky hands while maintaining that seductive, downright filthy eye contact. More and more of her skin is exposed as she quickly strips in front of him, finally slipping out of her black, see-through underwear while he's trying not to shake from dark urges and lust.

When she's naked, flush and bare, her fingers start to slide up her thigh. The other hand is pressed against her side as if shy. She’s either offering him a Christmas present in the most elegant way, or then she’s concerned about getting licked and fucked sore. It's like throwing a dog a meaty bone and then putting the hound in a loose chain, just an inch away from the mouthwatering sight and scent. She steals one look at his erection, currently trying to rip its way through his pants. The gross tent is pointed at her, and she knows it: she knows she has him on a leash, but only barely.

"Go ahead then," she whispers.

He falls straight to his knees, and presses his whole face against her softly trimmed hair. When he opens his mouth, she shudders, clearly not ready for someone this starved trying to devour her whole.

She doesn't know she's about to sleep with the devil… If she knew, she would be out the door by now.

It's too late now: he engulfs her, locks her in place by wrapping his arms around her hips.

Mein.

Mein…

He could rub his face in her sweet cunt forever, but that won't do: she said he could lick her, so that’s what he’s going to do. After a few bites and nibs, after inhaling the sweet scent of her and squeezing her long and hard in his embrace, he finally rises and carries her to his den. There’s only loneliness there in his bedroom, just stale sweat and old musk staining the sheets, but she softens on the linens when he goes down on her.

Her pussy is already throbbing and wet when he gives her the first, fat lick. Next up, soft little laps to make her thighs drift apart. Some long, teasing circles on her clit, and she starts to sigh - he’s not an expert, but he knows she won’t find a more enthusiastic cunt licker in this city. Or this whole country… Perhaps the entire world.

And she's not a screamer, she’s a moaner. She also whimpers a lot. He switches between giving fast attention to her clit, then slow tongue fucking to her hole. The scent of pussy fills his room: they only talk to each other through moans and whines and groans. He breathes into her like a panting dog: she whimpers under torture like she actually likes it, and likes him. Like she actually prefers his bed to any other place in this world.

He fucks her with his mouth, sloppy and hungry; he could french kiss her pussy forever like this. He could spend every evening licking her to ruin.

"Just like that… Just like that… Don't stop…"

He's as hard as can be; he's about to lose his fucking mind. If she doesn't cum soon, he might just die from having to listen to those unhinged cries.

To help her out – because he's a generous, generous man – he slips a finger inside, earning another spill of filthy moans.

"Oh god ohgod oh fuck–!"

She sounds dumb and helpless as he eats her out like she’s his last meal. His chin is drenched and his cock is hard as the poor girl leaks all over her ass and on his bedding. He adds another finger, starts to fuck her slow and steady. She's more than prepared for his cock, and when he starts to do the alphabet on her clit, she whimpers, whines, and finally, screams.

The feel-good hormones flood his brain when she cums. He kisses her through it and slows down the torture gradually, gives her some space to pulse and throb and leak against his chin.

Women need a lot of stimulation; that’s what he has learned. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and he doesn’t want to ruin the explosion by overriding her senses. When he rises from a job well done, he sees how some of her makeup is ruined.

Yeah. Fuck... A screamer, a moaner, and a crier.

And he's only about to fuck her…

"Das war gut. Good pussy," he mutters and licks his lips, high above his pretty little prize.

"Oh–oh god…"

Poor thing is so flushed, desperate and helpless; she jerks as he taps her clit with his cock, whines when he forces the fat, leaking tip into her folds.

"Wait–"

"I will fuck you now."

"Sir… Please, could we use a condom? Please…"

She's still calling him sir like she's at work. Like he's her superior, or worse yet, an officer, a colonel she's not supposed to flirt with, let alone spread her weak little legs for.

"Hm. I don't have any."

"I do," she's panting heavy on the bed, clearly reluctant to get away from his cock, too weak to get up after his thigh-shaking treatment. It would give him a year’s worth of confidence to witness her in this state, if she would only let him finish the job. Right here, right now. Dip it in raw and blow a load inside that sweet, aching cunt. She might just end up with his child...

But the moment is ruined: he hates condoms, and he hates it that she has them with her. Jealousy starts to eat his mind like there's a can of worms poured inside his brain.

Who does she carry condoms for? Does she get fucked often...?

How many does she have, one, two, three? A whole pack?

She rises to get the darned piece of plastic, and the thick thunder in his head is making him seriously consider locking her up and throwing away the key. Women shouldn't be running around like that, hungry and desperate for a dick. She should stay at home, his home, and go crazy when he returns from war. The rage is the only thing keeping his cock from growing soft.

"It's too small," he laments when the condom is finally in place but barely reaches the base of his shaft. It's going to roll off if he fucks her like he intended to… Good, long, deep and hard.

She bites her lip as she stares at the sad little wrapping trying to render his cock harmless. Surely she can see how stupid and useless this is… Either he gets her a morning after pill tomorrow or then he pulls out, but the condom has to fucking go.

"It's… okay," she swallows. "It's okay. Let's just… If you're clean?"

"I am."

He doesn't tell her he hasn't had a woman in months. Almost over a year.

And he’s clean; he keeps everything…in ordnung.

He rolls the cursed plastic off, and his cock immediately bounces back up: hard, demanding and ready. He throws the condom away, just somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's out of his sight. Wasting no time, he's back at her cunt, and bullies himself in.

"Ah ja… Das ist schön… Sehr schön."

Nothing compares to the feel of a real cunt, hugging him tight. And fuck… He can actually fit fully inside her. He fits like a glove.

"Oh ja. Das ist... I'm not going to pull out. It's not an option. Ok?"

It's not a warning, it's a simple, honest statement. She looks at him with a fearful, desperate stare as his balls arrive to press against her flesh. Yes... nothing beats a wet pussy and a frightened stare.

"Ok…"

"It's better this way," he promises, wondering if it would make him a bad person if he disposed of her condoms first thing in the morning. "Ja?"

"Yes," she sighs. "Feels so good…"

The tightness in his chest falls down, all the way to his stomach and forms a bittersweet knot there. Why does she keep looking at him like that…? He's not hurting her, she's not exactly afraid, it's something else that's making her give him those dumb doe eyes.

"You're pretty," he rasps while trying not to start a complete fuckfest in every meaning of the word.

"O‐oh…?"

"Ja… It's illegal to be that pretty. Someone might want to fuck you..."

"Please do," she almost chokes on the words while looking up at him. "Please…"

If this is a dream, it’s the best dream he’s ever had. She's so perfect, far more needy and helpless than he ever imagined. He moves before he drives them both to madness.

"I'll fuck you, Liebling. As many times as you want. As hard as you want."

He can't remember when was the last time he sounded so soft. Or reassuring... He can't remember the last time a woman was so responsive to his cock. But he fucks her. He fucks his own sorrow into oblivion, too. He pauses only to take a good look at her and remind himself that he’s truly inside the sweetest pussy he’s ever had.

He even whispers lies to her ear about how she doesn't have to worry: he'll get her a plan B after this. The girl turns a bit wild now that it's somewhat safe to be fucked by an animal. She lets him lick and bite her breasts, and thoroughly abuse her cunt. At some point she grabs his face with both hands and kisses him, hungry and sweet. Squeals into his mouth as his balls slap against her ass, hugs him like a drowning person when he picks up the pace and starts to lose himself in her pussy. The feel of a woman's hands around his middle is a sensation he's forgotten completely.

"You like that?" He starts to talk nonsense between her sloppy kisses, pleased with his own soft voice, with her, with everything in his life right now. "You like my cock? Hm?"

"Yes… Oh fuck, I'm…"

Fuck, she's about to cum again... He's in heaven, no, he's somewhere near Eden. She suddenly goes still, and sinks her nails in his back, just before a cry cuts through the air. It reminds him of the aftermath of a grenade detonating; her moans pierce the air, and he can’t get enough of it. He wants to swim in those screams.

He was supposed to make love to her for hours, but it's crystal clear now that this won’t be a long session. He's a selfish asshole for chasing his own peak next by fucking her through her second orgasm like a rabid dog.

"Oh das ist sehr schön, das ist gut… Ach für–scheisse—"

He sounds a bit too pathetic, and quickly buries his face into her neck to escape her lovely, adoring stare. He fucks himself into a big, fat, blinding explosion, he can barely hear the thundering roar that meets her sweaty neck.

She's scared silent by his despair, poor little thing. And he just fapped this morning… But the orgasm compares to the first time he came, it's violent, abrupt and rough. Sadly, the descent is too heady, and too quick. Nuzzling deeper into her hair, he tries to listen to her heartbeat but only hears his own beastlike panting.

"Ok… Ok. I guess we both really needed that, huh?"

She's laughing and out of breath as she gathers their pieces and constructs some kind of a new reality out of them. He rumbles in agreement and refuses to pull out – now that he's inside her, he'll never fucking leave.

"Will you stay? For the night…?"

His question is met by complete silence. She just breathes, then buries her fingers in his hair. He feels like melting chocolate; for the first time in his life, he's somewhat relaxed and content.

"I… I'd really like to but… I can't. I have a party to attend.”

She gives him a quick kiss on the head, then ruffles his hair. She fucking pets him while he’s plunging into some deep recess with the raw, post-nut clarity.

She just needed a fuck… She just needed some cock. And a gift card, so she can buy nice things for the men she allows to lick her to ruin. Fuck… She's even worse than him.

“I'm sorry..."

"It's ok," he hears himself say. She’s too fucking gentle as she drags her fingertips across his scalp. Her other hand comes to trace his jawline, and her thighs hug his waist so good that he would have no trouble making love to her again. Just start another round with a slow roll of hips. Fuck her until they're both sweaty and crying, fuck her full of his cum and chain her to the bed, for safekeeping as he goes and gets himself a beer in between the sessions.

For some reason, he can't quite bring himself to act on this wish. Not when she just cried from how good he was, not when she's petting him like he's a good dog who's earned his rest.

He gives himself a minute before pulling out, and she leaves his bed in silence, tiptoeing into the bathroom in a hurry. Trust a maid to not want to stain the floor with cum when she just scrubbed everything clean…

She takes a quick shower and fixes her makeup, then picks her clothes from the floor. His heart is hammering in his chest, but his breaths remain even as he watches her get dressed. He even offers her a ride to the party, which she accepts with apologetic gratitude. It’s held at someone's home: a house party is a sight he has only ever seen from outside.

She gives him an uneasy, distant smile and a quick kiss before thanking him for the evening and the ride. Then she half walks, half runs across the pavement and up towards the door to be let in by her already drunken friends. Some man embraces her, and the white rage inside his skull is telling him to grab a gun, rise from the car and start a good old mass shooting. Instead, he guides his stare to the asphalt and drives off.

He goes home and has a beer, the rage and longing giving his insides a good stab every five or ten minutes. He watches some TV, then mulls over whether to sleep on the couch because her scent is still on the sheets.

It starts to rain outside, and reality kicks in. When it rains, it pours… He decides he actually hates Christmas, and he also can't stand the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Too tired to dump them in the trash, his feet carry him to the bed, cold and soiled and wrinkled from past love that never was.

The clock is only half past ten, and the doorbell rings just before he takes his shirt off. For the umptieth time this day, his heart starts to race, reminding him that it's not wars that are cruel, but women.

When he opens the door, she's standing there in the rain. Utterly soaked, dripping wet, sad like a stray cat, lower lip trembling from cold.

"Sir?" she declares, "I'm afraid to fall in love."

There’s a spread of wings inside his chest, catching wind like a soaring eagle. It’s a fell swoop and a heady high at the same time, a burning pain right there over his heart as he looks at her, lonely and sad and so adorably lost. Beautiful and wet, like a trampled little flower after a summer storm. She's perfect, just perfect.

And has she walked all the way back here…? There’s no sign of a taxi, no sounds of a car or a bus, and she looks like she's wetter than a wet dog.

"You’re afraid to fall in love…?"

She nods, then bursts into tears. Her tiny shoulders rise and fall with sobs, the rain makes long, wet strings of her hair. He takes a step and tries to pull her in, but she won't come. Stubborn, incredible little thing…

"Liebling... Me too."

"Really?” she raises her sad stare to meet him while trying to wipe her ruined mascara in the midst of falling rain. “You seem like the kind of man who fears nothing..."

"Oh I fear a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like… flying, for example."

"But you fly all the time?"

"Exactly."

She's sniffling and pouting and sobbing, like a princess who always got everything she wanted. He wonders if she's the kind of girl who would've laughed at him in high school, or looked him down her nose. If she would've joined the bullies and been the one to say she’d never sleep with a freak like him…

"Let's get you inside. Hmm? You must be cold."

She won’t come, no matter how hard he tries to coax her to come inside his dry, warm house. The rain falls in mats behind her as the city sleeps, vibrant and vigilant. He thought he already broke his heart to the point it couldn’t get more broken anymore, but the look she gives him as he tries to pull her inside is making it burst and shatter into pieces again.

If she's a princess, she must be a battered, broken one.

"Come on. I'll give you a bath," he tries to entice her. "And then we’ll tuck you in. That sound gut?"

"Yes," her shoulders drop as she finally accepts his asylum. "Thank you, sir…"

"And don't call me sir unless you want to make me hard."

She breaks into a fragile, shy smile while looking down at the tips of her drenched ballerinas. Then she allows him to drag her in.

He helps her out of her coat and hangs it to dry while his pretty little kitten gets out of her clothes for the second time this evening. A strong, powerful possessiveness settles in his chest as he guides her to the bathroom and draws her a bath. Then he pulls her shivering, naked body against him so that she wouldn’t feel cold while they wait for the tub to fill with water.

What happens next is soft and gentle, the kind of unhurried exploration he never had time to do because the few females he was with were always in a hurry to get away from him and his needs.

This pretty thing just eases herself into the bath. A timid but trusting little creature, who allows him to study her body like it’s already a possession for him to play with. She lets him rub her tits and tease her clit, caress her neck and face and waist. She does so with patience, love and hope. He’s been extremely tender and extremely slow with her; perhaps that’s why she doesn’t run away from him.

"You're too good for me," she whispers when his hand comes to rest on her stomach, just below her tits.

"...What?"

He barely hears what she’s saying, he can hardly hear her speaking at all because he’s there in the water with her, submerged in the hot, soothing liquid, even if he’s crouching next to the tub in reality.

"Oh please... You're everything a woman could want," she complains softly.

"What do you mean.”

She sighs and looks up to the ceiling, as if begging for help. Then she starts to list things.

"You're… Rich? And powerful, and strong. Kind and considerate. Mysterious... With a great body and a big dick, and still wanting to go down on a woman... It's insane."

He tries to remember how to breathe, but she’s not done yet.

"I'm sorry but… No one's ever eaten me out like that. You must be so experienced."

Her praise eclipses everything, even the thoughts of wanting to kill everyone who's had a taste of her.

So, the boys she's been with don't know how to please her… Stupid arschlochs don't understand what true devotion means. Even a fucker like him knows it's better to make a woman cry out of pleasure than out of fear. Although he always had a talent to do the latter…

And he's not experienced, he's just fucking horny. He just likes to eat pussy.

But that's not something she has to know. Better to have her keep the illusion that he's a dream catch, a rich cosmopolitan of some sort. What a joke…

"You’re literally perfect," she moans from the bath like the princess that she is. "How are you even single?"

"I'm not… right in the head, I guess."

"Well, neither am I."

He can’t look at her. Not when she’s open and trustful and sweet like this. But her hand comes to rest over his, under the water, under the safety of the surface.

"No one is."

"No. Wirklich, I’m a bit sick. Always was. I jerked off to your…" He leaves the rest of the sentence unsaid, risking a look into her eyes.

"I know," she smiles. "I don't mind… Actually I think that's hot."

"Liebling…"

"I think I’ve had enough now. Can we go to bed…?"

"Of course."

She giggles when he lifts her from the water, smiles as he dries him with his towel like she's a wet little kitten he rescued from rain. And perhaps he did... She caresses his chin when he carries her to bed, and reaches for him as he accompanies her under the sad, steel-blue sheets.

He doesn’t need to fuck her, not right now. It’s enough that she’s here: soft, trapped, and tame. His, just his.

Not another lonely Christmas for him ever again…

And she latches herself onto him like he’s the saviour she’s been waiting for all her life. Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise.

He’s single because no one ever stayed. No one stayed after they saw who he really was... Some even had to flee the country.

But he knows she’ll stay. He’ll make sure that this cute one never leaves. No, this one is not safe from him, even if she tried to escape him to space.

"Are you still afraid?"

He caresses her head, pressed against his chest. She’s unsuspecting and lovely, the perfect woman, hugs him so tight and sighs from simple, lamblike happiness.

"No," she smiles softly. "Not at all... I know you'll treat me right."

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #yandere könig #tw: dark content #könig smut

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konigsblog · 2 months

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tired, thinkin' about loser-könig and loser-reader. you're both just as embarrassing as each other. :(

cw: creep-könig, dumbification. 18+ 🩸

although you're both weirdos and complete social outcasts to society, you're weird in different ways and have your own little quirks.

könig is weird, in a way that he's far too self-absorbed and confident. he's cocky, and won't hesitate to hit on women and grind against them in the club in his drunken, horny state, having a beer thrown at him by the woman's boyfriend, his black t-shirt soaked and stuck to his body.

due to a lack of communication growing up – and the intense fear of being alone forever – he's not the best at communicating his feelings, coming across as desperate, a hopeless romantic.

you are considered weird, in a way that you're creepily quiet, never speaking up and giving off the wrong impression. you're exactly what könig needs; a quiet and meek little thing to talk to, ranting about perverted, or gruesome things. könig enjoys spreading your legs, whilst you're sat on his big lap. his sweatpants are pulled down, allowing his hung cock to grow and rub against your bare back, whilst he holds your supple thighs open and eases his rough and calloused fingers inside.

könig will get you to watch porn with him, rubbing his weeping dick against your back, his veiny lengthy twitching with his milky load dripping down your back, his fingers rubbing against your sensitive nub, shaking and moaning like a filthy, needy girl.

loser-könig will also mansplain to you, belittling you and manipulating you into feeling that you're too dumb to be without him. it'll keep you with him, on his fat cock, where his dick is surrounded by your warm, slick walls, grinning as he has you where he wants you.

#orla speaks #könig x you #könig x reader #konig x you #konig x reader #yandere konig #yandere könig #könig smut #konig smut

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gauloiseblue · 1 month

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You always joked about how you'd find out what's beneath his mask someday. Literally and figuratively.

He'd scoff at your attempts, or suggestions to lift up his sniper mask. Some of them caught him off guard, to the point he almost did it if not for his logical mind. But some of them were downright ridiculous, that he couldn't help but snort.

Maybe you already accepted it from the start, that he would never give in, but it had become a harmless jest at this point, so you might as well keep it going.

Until he gives you permission.

The thing is, it doesn't make you happy—it scares you to death instead. He once bit off someone's finger when they poked it in the place they shouldn't have touched. So what's behind the mask couldn't be worth the pain.

At first, you thought of it as a warning. Yet he wasn't showing any signs of threat. He even pulled you closer, so you'd get a better view of him.

His mask stays on, but he lets you touch his face. Your hands hover an inch away from his veiled visage, before you test the water with a touch.

He doesn't flinch away, or charge at you like a venomous snake. He stays still, letting your hands cup his cheeks.

"Didn't you say you wanna feel my face?" He said as he brought you closer, causing a shiver down on your spine.

"I did," Your lips trembled slightly, "I'm doing it."

"You're not doing it right." He tugged your paralyzed hands onto his chest.

You're confused when he firmly grips both of your hands, before slowly sliding them under the hem of his hood.

"Inside, maus." He commanded you, "Tell me what you feel."

And so, you complied.

You reach into his mask, and touch his neck tentatively. For a brief moment, his muscles tense under your fingertips, before they come down relaxed.

"Oh." You murmured as you pressed your palm onto his nape, "You can certainly survive a fighter jet ride."

He doesn't give you any response, so you take it as a cue to continue.

Your hands creep up higher, until your fingers reach the soft bones of his ears. They seem small in your grasp, smaller than they should, for a man of his height. A quiet smile spreads in your lips, as you imagine the tiny shells that frame both sides of his face.

"I'm surprised you have clear skin." You commented when you caressed his cheek, feeling the texture of his skin, "I thought you'd have a problem with it since you always wore a mask."

"Not always." He replied, nudging you to roam further, "I took it off whenever I'm alone."

"Did you take care of it?"

"No."

"How unfair." You chuckled, "I want to have your skin."

He keeps his eyes on you, and you feel the need to clear your throat, before you trace the lines on his face.

"You have a big nose." You mused as you ran your finger down from the bridge of his nose, "It's crooked."

He hums, while his eyes follow your uncertain gaze.

"Why you stopped?" He called you out, and you jumped upon hearing them, "There's one place you haven't touched."

You bit your lips, trembling, as you lowered your hand, until you felt the soft lumps on your fingertips.

They form a thin line, before they split open, inviting your finger inside. Your breathing becomes labored, as he takes a hold on your hand, guiding your thumb into his mouth.

He doesn't break eye contact the whole time, and you're too paralyzed to look away. You feel the sharpness of his teeth as his lips are closing around your digit. You have anticipated the guillotine falling on the head of your thumb, yet what comes after is a soft brush of his tongue.

It was rough, and drenched with his saliva, that it formed a string at the time your thumb left his mouth.

"König—" You gasped when he dragged his lips down to your palm, before stopping on your wrist. Pressing his tongue on your pulse point, where the skin barrier is so thin, that it feels as if he's tasting your flesh.

"Scared, maus?" He muttered, his teeth scraped against your skin, "Are you scared of me?"

You stare at him, as your instinct screams at you to nod. But you shake your head, despite the tremble in your hands.

"Then you'll do as I say." He wraps his arm around your waist, leaving no room for you to run, "Take off my mask."

Your eyes widened, not believing what you just heard from his mouth. Alas, his glare is enough to confirm the truth.

He guides your hands to his mask, pushing it up in a manner that's close to unveiling a white cover. And once the mask is lifted, you have no time to admire him as he slams his lips against yours.

Your cry of surprise is swallowed by his mouth, as he pushes his tongue between your lips. You can't do anything but cling to him, as he presses your body down with his, until your back is flush against the cushion.

When you open your eyes, what greets you is a pair of eclipses. Gone was the cruel Colonel, as he's replaced by a voracious brute.

The moment he opens his mouth, you know you'll be devoured by him.

#i wrote 2 konig fics in one day there's something wrong with me #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #konig mw2 #is this cannibal core?#idk girl #yandere konig #there's something about fingers in a mouth...........#i'm normal i swear #I've fixed the 3rd person pov. just noticed it now. oopsie my bad

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obsessivelullabies · 8 months

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⎯ yandere sugar daddy könig.

pairing : könig x fem!reader.

tags : fluff, yandere behavior, yandere headcanons, könig x reader, sugar daddy, sugar baby, sugar daddy könig, yandere könig.

prompt : you're a broke college student, you sign up for a sugar daddy website, hoping for a quick coin. however, what you find is an obsessive older man who's willing to provide you with everything you could possibly need.

warnings : daddy kink, yandere behaviors, smut [at the end], size kink, praise kink, breeding kink.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

⎯⎯ college wasn't exactly the best time in your life, you didn't have your parents support, you were working a dead end job with barely enough money to feed yourself. it wasn't until your friend recommended this sugar daddy website did things look up.

⎯⎯ you were contacted by an austrian man who called himself könig. he explained he was a colonel in the military, but he couldn't tell you much else. you would see him when he was home from his deployments. he explained all this over texting, along with his social anxiety problems. you sympathized with him. you had only seen one photo of his face, yet he seemed handsome. he had long hair and a scarred face.

⎯⎯ finally, you agreed to meet könig in person over dinner at a fancy restaurant. you could tell he was anxious to just be around you, considering how he fidgeted throughout almost the whole meal as you two went over the agreement of your arrangement. you were shocked by his height as well, he was 208 cm/6'10, which really stuck out. you decided to not mention it to him.

⎯⎯ he convinced you to only see him, saying he'd pay you enough so you only needed to see him, which slightly relived you. you were to always answer his texts and calls as soon as possible, he'd give you an allowance and similar rules were all agreed upon.

⎯⎯ whenever könig was home, you spent a lot of time with him. he seemed to love having you around, always taking you out shopping, out for meals, having you at his home. you had him wrapped around your finger.

you had just returned from a shopping trip with könig, he set down all the bags of clothes and jewelry he had bought you on the counter. you spent a lot of time at his house, which was stunningly large, despite him living alone.

with a smile on your face, you lead him over to the couch, playfully making him sit down. you straddled him, covering his face with kisses, "thank you, daddy." you cooed sweetly to him. you finally kissed his lips, which he hungrily returned.

"anything for you, liebling.." he whispered, wrapping his arms around you, bringing your body closer to him. you gave his jawline a final kiss before wrapping your arms around his neck and cuddling into him.

könig rested his chin ontop of your head, rubbing circles on your back. he tightened his grip on you. you spent a lot of time in the prison of his arms, könig seemed to love holding you, having your body close to his.

⎯⎯ when könig was off on deployment, he would call and text you as much as he could. every free moment he had was spent focused on you. he got angry with you if you didn't answer in a few minutes or less, accusing you of seeing someone else. to which, you'd have to spend hours on a phone call soothing him and his worries.

when you finally picked up your phone, you were met with an irritated sounding könig, "where the fuck have you been?" he hissed.

you took a deep breath, not wanting to react rudely to him. "i was in class, i'm sorry, i just got back to my dorm." your tone was honeyed for him.

his tone didn't soften at all as he replied almost childishly. "it shouldn't have taken you so long, were you with someone?" you understood what he meant. he always assumed you were breaking the rules of your agreement or 'cheating' on him.

you kept your sweet tone, "of course not, daddy.." you pouted. "i've missed you too much, i don't want anyone else. i just want you." you knew exactly what to say. he had done this multiple times.

könig finally softened. "i see.. i've missed you too.. i want to feel you again, i want to kiss you again.." you could feel a hint of sadness in his tone.

"mm, i miss you more! you'll be back next week, right?" you cooed.

könig responded, sounding much happier than before. "ja, will you send me more photos of you, baby? i miss your face.."

you giggled, "of course, daddy." he seemed pleased with that. you spent the next hour and a half on the phone with him, listening to him talk about his day, and telling him about yours.

⎯⎯ the more time you two were together, the more attached könig became. he needed more of you, he wanted all of you. könig would constantly encourage you to blow others off to spend time with him. a few months into your relationship, you had lost ties with most of your outer circle of friends, barely having any time to spare.

⎯⎯ after ten months, he was encouraging you to drop out of college. who needed a silly degree when daddy could take care of you? he wanted you to move in with him. he promised he would take care of your every need and lavish you with affection and gifts.

⎯⎯ during this time, könig got much more affectionate and needy. he became infatuated with you entirely. you were his everything, he made himself the most important thing in your life. könig made sure you had the least amount of time for friends or family as possible.

⎯⎯ now, you spent almost every day and night at his house. the only exceptions were your classes and time you set aside for homework. he always scoffed and whined when you said you had to leave, doing anything to make you stay.

right now, you had a scheduled class. you were supposed to be ten minutes into that class, yet here you were, in könig’s bed, laying underneath him, biting back tears.

“daddy,” you whimpered through your heavy breaths, “it’s not gonna fit!”

könig rubbed circles on your swollen clit as you said this. “shh, schatz, i’ll make it fit. just lay back and relax for daddy, ok?” he reassured, kissing your forehead softly.

you took deep breaths as he slowly jammed his cock into you, your body began to tremble. you let out cries, clawing könig’s back. no matter how much foreplay you got in, you always struggled to take könig’s entire length.

as he fit it all in, he gave you a small kiss. “see, liebling? it’s all in.”

you swallowed hard, nodding slowly. his large hands were gripping your hips as he began to gently thrust into you. you moaned, his thick cock was too much.

“fuck.. you feel so good, schatz.. so tight..” he whispered, quickly speeding up despite your cry of panic.

the sounds of skin slapping echoed in the room as he pounded into you, your cunt crying from the abuse. you dug your nails into his back, now starting to feel a pleasant knot in your belly. you gasped, your back arching into the bed.

“all mine,” he said breathlessly. his grip on your hips tightened as he continued using you like you were his personal fucktoy. “you’re all mine.”

he sped up, much to your own pleasure, the pain had subsided as you moaned and babbled out praise for him, your legs wrapped around him.

you neared your climax, your whole body trembling. “daddy—‘m gonna cum..” you said through your moans, your body clinging to his.

könig kissed you sweetly, despite his animalistic pace. “such a good girl, schatz. cum for me, cum on my cock,” he groaned. your walls clenched around him as you dissolved into your pleasure, tears leaking out onto your cheeks.

as you came, he kept up his unforgiving pace, he let out groans of contentment. he wiped the tears off your cheeks before kissing you softly through your mutual cries of pleasure.

as he continued, he whispered sweet nothings to you until he reached his climax. “‘m gonna pump you full of my cum, alright, engel?” he kissed you passionately, continuing to ram his cock into you. “be a good girl and take all of it, understood?” you couldn’t murmur a response, too fucked dumb from his pounding.

soon, könig came inside you, painting your walls white. he fucked his hot cum into you before finally stopping. after a moment of making sure you took the majority of his cum, he slid his cock out.

könig kissed your forehead sweetly, tucking you into bed and quickly wrapping his arms around you. he lavished kisses all over your neck and shoulders.

“this was better than your class, right, liebling?”

masterlist.

#könig cod #könig #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig modern warfare #yandere #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig cod #yandere konig #sugar daddy könig #sugar daddy konig #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod x you #konig x you

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starryylies · 1 month

Text

Loser! König fucking your panties

Poor baby he’s so needy and desperate half the time

Hes so touch starved ong :((

Gets hard even if your hand brushes his

But he's so gentle with you

But sometimes he can't control himself

How could he with a pretty lil thing like you

Who would’ve thought though

That the big mean and brutish soldier is humping his dick into your dirty panties that he stole from the hamper to get himself off

Nasty, nasty pervert

so nasty that he doesn't stop fucking it even when you enter the room

Instead the shameless brute locks his eyes with yours as he fucks his angry red cock into your panties

But you're not any less are you?

Locking eyes while you’re rubbing your thighs

Looking up at him like a needy lil pup wanting a treat for being a good girl

His raspy voice groans lustfully

“C’mere Schatz, look at what you did”

“Be a good little girl and fix it f’me yea”

A smirk plasters his face as

You move closer towards him

Slowly,

Like a predator carefully approaching its prey

Your soft hands grip onto könig's cock, stroking it languidly

Stroking his cock into the soft material of your panty

How disgusting

But looking at him being such a mess

Was heaven

"Kö daddy you wanna cum?"

"Y-yes schatz, fuck please"

Dirty bastard fucking your panty like it's your cunt,

Dirty fucking bastard cumming into those panties

And you dirty little slut wearing those cum soaked panties for the remaining day

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yandere-sins · 7 months

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holy crap your previous könig and ghost yan are so good😭 i have this idea, and idk if anyone has incorporated it in any yan stories of them, but the idea of unmasking them and seeing their faces for the first time???? like this is pre-established relationship (with either men idk up to you to imagine which) where you haven’t seen their faces…yet. the most you know is the intimidation you feel every time you see them—or see them lurking around you but like, imagine a scenario where the reader is trying to get them to take off their mask + plus i’m pretty sure ghost and könig has yet to have canon appearances so i’d like to hear your interpretations of them!!!

I had this idea in a not yandere-sense and it was so wholesome and adorable and just intimate where they let you unmask them for the first time, kind of hesitant, but so adoringly... Maybe I should write the harmless version one day, but for now, this is still a yandere blog sorry hahaha! Thanks for requesting!!

Warnings: Yandere, Minor Sexual Content

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

König

♡ König is so flustered. Poor man doesn't even think he deserves you being so agreeable that night, sitting in his lap, allowing him to touch you (shallowly, but his fingers are on your body, and that's more than most nights). Yet, you also caress him back, not saying anything or giving him reasons why you're being so nice. You told him so many times you hate him, driving a dagger into his poor heart over and over. Yet, your fingertips are tracing his shoulders and collarbones gently, carefully. He can't stop swallowing hard with all the drool collecting in his mouth, his brain befuddled with intense adoration and need for you to do more. To touch him more, to make him feel your hands and body rougher than the fluttering touches you're bestowing onto him.

♡ That's the only reason he allows your hands to go further. He really likes his mask, but you driving your hands under it, touching the hot skin underneath, well... it raises more questions and also something else between his legs. But König is way too scared to ruin this moment. He's also afraid of you uncovering something you might not like. A face you might find ugly or scars that you will laugh about. He doesn't want you to think badly of him, even though he can't change his looks anymore. At the same time, he really doesn't want you to stop. Just one more inch of skin bared to you. One more touch of your fingertips and all these feelings he harbors for you might explode out of him. But when you get to the stubble on his chin, your thumb having pressed deliciously into his throat and giving him a kick of adrenaline, suddenly, König revolts. Picking you up and setting you down on the couch before getting up and leaving the room in a hurry, he pulls his shirt-mask down as much as he can. After all, it was a bit too much for him; maybe you'll have more luck next time.

♡ (Yes, he's in the bathroom and miserable that he stopped you. Yes, he needs to take a cold shower afterwards, and yes, he still jerks off despite the icy temperature, bemoaning the roughness of his hands compared to yours.)

Ghost

♡ You know, Ghost really didn't plan to let you do it. It's his thing; he doesn't mind being always covered up and unreadable. It also helps with you and keeping you a bit fearful at all times. But when curiosity kills the cat, and you start playing with the seams of his mask, he just... lets you. Ghost wants to know how far you're willing to go, how bold you are—and how much he can take. He's not ashamed of his face, but the mask is his identity, so there might still come a moment when it's uncomfortable for him. But at the same time, this is like a game to him. One he knows he can stop at any given time, but which will yield a lot of prizes if he endures it.

♡ Because really, what's more adorable than you realizing he's not reacting? You thinking you're allowed to do what you want? You're testing the waters carefully, with only the tips of your nails slipping under the tight mask. Ghost watches you through his lashes as he pretends to still be dozing, unbothered and relaxed. In reality, he's controlling his instinctual flinches as everything screams at him to stop you. But you're not out to unmask and kill him, you're just curious. And you grow bolder, fast. He loves that look on your face, the concentration as you loosen the fabric so it might roll up his neck. You keep glancing at him, and though he knows you want to check if he's still asleep, it feels like you're asking his permission. And Ghost gives it to you. He's in control. So he even cranks his neck so you can push it up his chin, exposing his mouth, excitement about your achievement palpable. But when you adjust your position to continue, driving your hands under the mask and cupping his face, Ghost decides it's enough, pushing upwards to meet you in a kiss.

♡ He'll have you flipped over and complaining faster than you can react to, hands pinned above your heads, and your complaints turning into gasps and moans as he deepens the kiss, his hands exploring you until you arch your body into his touch and your mind is woozy from the loss of oxygen. Now that his mouth is out, he might as well use it to both of your pleasures and who knows, maybe he'll let you go a bit farther next time.

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cookiepie111 · 8 months

Text

Men who slip a wedding ring on your finger while they're fucking you dumb. You're as married in his mind now

Tag your favourite fictional man

#yandere könig x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #könig x reader #ghost x reader #i think this could work really well for older men #cod x reader #x black reader #anime x reader #yandere ghost x reader #yandere ghost #crocodile x reader

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cherry-writes-yanderes · 1 year

Text

so tiny~

(könig x gn! reader)

a/n: had a fever dream and I just HAD to write this 🤭

cw: dead dove do not eat, just filthy smut, mention of being fuckbuddies, possessive sex, size difference, tummy bulge, claiming, fucking while unconscious, cumming inside without permission, noncon near the end, mention of kidnapping

“S-So fuckin’ tiny~..” König never failed to choke out every time that he pushed inside of you. It was like a tradition now, praising how tight and small you were compared to the massive, hulking man on top of you.

You never failed to shed a tear every time he pushed in, his cock practically breaking you apart the first time. It luckily had gotten easier, but your hole still struggled to take him every time. He made you cum better than anyone else ever had, so it was all worth it in the end.

This time, he was too excited to wait for you to adjust before thrusting his hips, his dog tags jingling softly from his pace. Your moans made him growl, burying himself deep inside to watch your belly bulge from his massive cock. He loves doing that, your moans get so loud and cute!~

He suddenly presses your knees to your chest, making you squeal as he fucks into you over and over. König huffs, biting lovingly into your calf as he watches his big dick disappear into your hole and reappear again, his hips kissing yours every single time just to hit that spot that he knows makes your eyes roll back.

“Mmh… gonna cum in you this time- you’ll be mine-“ The giant man grunts, his grip on your thighs even tighter as he quickens his pace. Your veins run cold. He’s never done that before. You two agreed that this was just a hookup thing, not anything serious!! You try to pull yourself away from him, your legs pushing off of his broad and scarred shoulders.

“Ah ah!” He shouts, pausing his relentless thrusts to hold your down at your arms, his leg coming around and hooking his knee over your leg to keep you from kicking too much. Sweat dripped from his rough skin, mixing with yours as he descended onto you once again.

“M’ sorry… I jus’ need you so bad…” He slurs slightly, a telltale sign that he was close to cumming. He resumes the desperate thrusts of his hips, managing to pound against your sweet spot with every stroke. “Mine, mine, mine~” He chanted, punctuating every slap of his skin to yours with a claiming note. You couldn’t stop yourself from cumming all over him, gushing and shaking as he fucks you through it to reach his own high.

König’s end came quickly, his thick and hot cum spilling into you like a waterfall as his shaky hips press against yours to keep it all inside. “Alles meins…~” He whispers into your ear, his breath heavy from his orgasm. His grip stays, his fingers digging into your skin just to feel it under him. You belong here. Right here, under him. All pretty and full for him~

His eyes were blown wide, staring at your beautiful figure as he started to move again. He didn’t need long to cool down, he was so insatiable when it came to you! Orgasm upon orgasm wracked your little body, sending you into cockdrunk stupor with your eyes barely open; and even then, König refused to stop using your pretty hole. You were long unconscious, but he was still chasing that high of the crown of his cock catching on you and sinking in. He lived for that, his head falling back from how tight and perfect you are.

He planned to never let you leave. You are his, and you’ll be happy, he knows it.~

~i do not condone yandere behavior/noncon irl~

#call of duty mw2 #könig mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #könig smut #yandere könig #dead dove do not eat #mordern warfare 2 #könig #tw noncon #könig x reader #konig cod #könig fanfiction #mdni #call of duty modern warfare ll #call of duty #cod könig #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #könig cod

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diejager · 6 months

Note

hear me out tho. PervKönig with with thick thigh female reader who applies lotion on her thick thick thighs after a shower??

Lotion Cw: Pervy!König, lotion on thighs?, erotic fantasy, tell me if I missed any.

Fortunately - or unfortunately in some situation - he has self-control, able to hold himself back from re-enacting his fantasies or to push his needs onto you. The hunger that festered in the pit of his stomach, an unbearring heat at the apex of his thighs, beating with an erratic pulse and growing in restlessness. König has to push back the hanging reminder that he was hard, pressed against his sweatpants with a leaky tip.

He can only hope that you won’t catch the slight tent in his pants while his hands were busy, working the soft smelling lotion of your supple thighs. The pudgy fat of your thighs so tender under his callouses fingers, skin rolling if he pressed on it, lathering the white cream over your skin. You were so soft, so pliant and so loving, letting him inch his fingers closer to the edge of your shorts, tights and squeezing your upper thigh and your crotch.

He had to bite his cheek when you let out soft moans when he reached your inner thigh, folding your round skin and bending your knee to reach under your leg before he reached down. From the apex of your leg down to your ankle, his fingers twisting and curling around your toes, between and under. You curled your toes, giggling at the ticklish sensation of his fingers, it made him smile softly, scarred lips stretching thinly.

His eyes roamed over your glistening legs, the lotion making it gleam under the bathroom light, where he had his hands on. He bowed down, lips kissing your foot, tender and loving. He heard your surprised hum, but didn’t react to your sweet sound, his mouth trailing kisses up to your knee, eyes gazing into you own, cool eyes swirling with heat.

He loved how supple your thighs were, how soft and pliant it was, it drove him wild with need. He wanted to push you down on the couch right down the hallway, and fuck them, to rut his leaky cock between them. He wondered if you’d be disgusted if you knew your roommate wanted to paint your thighs white with cum, to massage your skin with his load rather than lotion, smelling salty and tasting tangy - smelling and tasting of him - after a shower.

König might have to add this fantasy to his bucket list, to act out when you fell asleep. He only hoped you wouldn’t mind.

Tag list: @hiraya1802 @tess0288 @elichisstuff @emodanoriddler @kenz-ee @bunnyclaire @akenosimp167 @death8match @yourliebling @allicsirp00 @cross-axis @hereforhotbitches @delulu4ghost @monster-in-paradise @nordicvsp @madi0987 @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @223princess

#tw: dubcon #Pervy!konig #Pervy!könig #Pervy!roommate!konig #konig x reader smut #konig x reader #konig mw2 #cod konig #cod könig #könig #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig smut #cod mw2 smut #mw2 smut #x reader #cod mw2 x reader #yandere x reader #yandere

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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

Text

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Make Friends 1/4 (Word count 5.4 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

A/N: AU where König (sadly) isn't a colonel and doesn't have a t-shirt as a hood but an... actual hood. Please heed the tags lovelies 🩷

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

No one sees a cleaning lady.

Cleaners are invisible. People remember them only when their desks start to gather dust, when their floors are full of mud. No one sees her except the tallest guy in the building: the guy who everybody seems to ignore, just like they ignore her.

It doesn't take long to see why. He's different, and not just because of the mask he's wearing.

She sees him playing with knives. He throws them in the air leisurely, catches them by the handle, and never misses the catch. He flicks them from side to side, spins and whirls the blades in motions she can't even see because they're so swift.

It's pure magic. And they're not dull training knives; they're sharp as a razor, vicious, tactical – but that doesn't make them ugly. They're quite stunning, and she's caught staring more than once.

His movements are not what she'd exactly call precise and fluid. They're urgent, antsy, made to relieve stress of some sort. He's stimming with the knives. Alleviating pain or frustration. The rest of his body is still; only the ice-blue eyes flicker on the blade as he focuses all his attention on the dance. Sometimes he just stares at them, turns them around as if checking the edge, as if it wasn't evident that they're deadly and sharp. That's how she knows he takes good care of the things he loves.

He's fascinated by them, just like she is. And it's not just the knives; she's fascinated by him.

Others cast side eyes, nervous looks at him. Even some of his fellow operators look at the man like he's a lunatic. And perhaps he is, but she can't help it.

She's mesmerized.

It all changes when she accidentally walks into a meeting room while there is a briefing going on. Apparently, no one considers her a threat or a potential spy because she is summoned in before she rushes to close the door, and so she goes on about her day while the soldiers are already wrapping things up.

The hooded giant is there too, leaning back in a chair too small for him, this time playing with a butterfly knife. It's the smallest, daintiest thing she has yet seen in those hands. He always has gloves on, but that doesn't make the flashy flipping look any less dangerous.

She starts by dusting the side tables so she is not in the way. This time, she vehemently does not want to be seen. Save perhaps by the knife maniac.

The man even helps her with cleaning: he picks up some of the objects he can reach so she can wipe the surface more easily. It makes her cheeks grow hot, but she cannot bring herself to thank him. She doesn't dare to make a single sound while there is a meeting going on and their captain is still speaking, but she gives her thanks through her eyes and her smile, and the man looks at her like she's some kind of saintly sight.

The look in those blue eyes is starstruck. Almost… obsessive.

It should send ice to her stomach. But it doesn't.

He continues showing off with the knife as she moves to the other side of the room. He does it to mess with her head or entertain her, delight her, perhaps - the man already knows she’s intrigued by his vast collection of blades.

It's a bit creepy. The man as a whole is a bit creepy, but she only feels a rush, a high that turns her monotonous work day into a thrill.

"König. Would you mind?"

The sound of the flicking blade stops, and she is possibly the only one in this room who misses the noise.

"Entschuldigung."

He speaks, and the voice sends ripples across her scalp. It's twisted and amused, as if the man gets off on annoying the shit out of his workmates.

"English, please..."

"My apologies."

The blade is tucked somewhere in his pocket and the man named König leans forward on the table. Slightly hunched over like that, he looks even more intimidating than before. The playfulness is gone, and he looks fiercely professional. More shivers are sent down her spine.

König…

König is the reason she still keeps working in this odd little compound, the base of some special operations unit that requires an insane amount of security checks and secret contracts and confidentiality agreements just so she can clean the floors from their soddy footprints.

König is the reason she starts to put on some mascara in the morning, tie her hair in a high ponytail, or braid it in two little braids so she would appear cuter if she happens to pass him by in the hallway. He's the reason she opens not one but two buttons of her blouse before she starts the day. He's also the reason her underwear is soaked in the middle of a boring shift.

He appears in her break room to borrow coffee. And not once, but twice during the same week.

"You're running low again?"

"Eh… Ja."

He's shit at lying, though. She is relatively sure by now that he's here only because he wants to see her.

"I'll bring it back. I mean–I'll buy you some."

He seems a bit shy, like her, and combined with the fact that he still chooses to seek her out already gives her sleepless nights. It makes her far more confident than she has ever been with people.

His accent, his voice, are pure fire. She feels sinful for thinking about how he would behave in the bedroom, how he would talk – after all, it already sounds like he's breathless and strained, already sounds like he's working her open with whatever monster is hidden in those pants a bit too small for him. He walks with a wide lounge, and she just knows it's because he is so big down there.

"You do that," she gives him a particularly flirty smile and revels in how it makes him even more distraught. It's quite fascinating how the same man can exude barely repressed bloodlust one moment and stupefied silence the next.

He returns the very next day to bring her a package of coffee. The same brand he borrowed twice already is set on the table in front of her with tense shoulders. She has seen the man relaxed only when he’s achieved that alluring flow state with his knives.

"Hier."

"Why thank you."

He simply stands there, switches weight from one foot to the other, and shrugs.

"I'll be going then."

But he doesn’t leave. Not right away. He watches her with that icy, burning stare, and she cocks her head.

“Bye,” she chimes with a soft smile – the guy is simply too cute. His restless twitching stops; he freezes where he stands, blinks – and then turns and walks out the door like a robot.

. . . . .

She's not supposed to be here. Or, she is, but he's not.

No one’s supposed to be here when there's the sign on the door. The men's showers are supposed to be cleared once a week for good scrubbing, and she only has 30 minutes to do that. It's once a week, less than an hour, there's a sign, and still, some jerk has to walk right through it.

No one sees a cleaning lady.

No one appears to even care about the fucking sign.

But then she sees who exactly has disrespected her humble position. It's a shock to see that familiar black hood with two eye holes on it thrown on the bench. Next to that, the khaki-colored cargo pants, a black shirt, and those gloves, all in a heap – this guy is not the most orderly, perhaps.

And she takes a fucking peek inside the showers because the door is, for some unfathomable reason, transparent, see-through glass.

The first thing she sees is muscle. Just wet, powerful cords of muscle slapped on the tallest man she has ever seen or would probably ever see.

He's a vision: godly, almost. Then she notices what he's doing.

Of course he has to be fucking fapping on top of everything.

Her throat is dry and her hands are numb as she watches how he leans on the tiles with one hand and works himself with the other. The body hair on the guy is so pale that he basically looks neatly shaved, save for the short hair on the top of his head – the man's nothing but sleek, dripping muscle through and through.

He sounds weak when he's masturbating; the noise that echoes in the showers consists mainly of frail, high-pitched grunts.

She's wet in no time, and it doesn't help that he looks frantic, almost violent, while jerking off. It's a sloppy frenzy, and the sounds of wet, angry slapping make her heart beat so fast that the rush of blood in her ears nearly drowns the noise.

The man has big hands, but his cock still looks massive inside one. She knows she will copy-paste the image of that long cock, slick with water and soap, in her mind over and over again while releasing some tension herself. Of course it's big because he's big, but the length of it is simply outrageous – she cannot comprehend how he can fit himself in his pants, even when soft.

His whole upper body tenses abruptly, like a huge cord of cable; he throws his head back, his hips jerk forward and he goes catatonic – the cum shot that follows would shoot a meter away if it wasn't stopped by the wall. The spurts of his load are equally as fierce as the fap, and she feels faint.

And why the fuck is she even standing here in the first place?

And then he…

He drops his head, turns a little to the side, like he’s known she has been here the whole time.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

She can only see his eyes from behind the arm still leaning on the wall. That heated glare is not furious, but nor is it benevolent: it's simply pure, manic lust.

She turns and rushes from the locker room like she has just seen a monster.

. . . . .

"Hey."

If he's here for coffee or for her, she doesn't know. Or, perhaps she does, but she's also so unbelievably ashamed and embarrassed that perhaps it's no surprise that he seeks her out in the break room since she has avoided him everywhere else for two days.

"Hi."

Her weak voice is followed by silence, and she doesn't turn, even when she knows he's still behind her. Something in the air, some part of atavistic instinct tells her he's standing right behind her.

"You here for more coffee?"

He still doesn't say anything, and she begins to freak out.

"König… I'm–God, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have–"

"Did you like what you saw?"

Her heart shoots up her throat, and her stomach churns, almost starts to eat itself from the pure terror. But it's nothing compared to what he says next.

"I was thinking of you," the calm voice reaches her ears like a tall wave, making her even more woozy than she was in the men's showers.

"I'm– sorry, what?"

"Your mouth… Breasts. If you're tight."

She finally turns, doesn't even try to conceal her horror tinged with incomprehensible, strange lust.

"Jesus…"

The ice between them is broken, but at what cost – and the anxiety she had mistaken for cuteness reveals something psychotic underneath. He still looks at her with the same stare, even when she tries to make it clear that this approach makes her want to vomit. He doesn't move, only towers over her like a hulking shade, and she darts from the break room, completely soaked and on the verge of tears.

. . . . .

There's a knock on her door the next morning, so early that she wonders who the hell could be up at this hour other than staff. It's like… five-thirty. She's so sleepy that she doesn't quite think it through as she throws only a t-shirt on before strolling to the door.

What the f-

König shoves the flowers almost in her face as she opens the door, and she has to yank her head back. All the sleep is gone in an instant, and she curses in her mind that she's standing here in only a tight t-shirt and a black pair of panties.

"I'm sorry. Please, accept my apology," he says like a poorly rehearsed actor while watching her thighs and what's between them. Her nipples shoot up, and not from cold.

"Uh… sure," she tries to sound neutral while accepting the flowers, if not his apology. He takes a step back after making sure she has truly taken the gift, and she instinctively lowers the bouquet down to shield herself from his searing gaze. She knows she's a hypocrite, having masturbated at the memory of him last night. Twice.

He has his hood on, and wears the eternal black shirt, padded gloves and some cargo pants, but there’s also an overload of gear on him. Pouches and pads and wires and ammo - she even catches a grenade or two. There’s a gun strapped to his thigh, and the shoulder pads make his already broad shoulders look even more wide. He looks so… tactical, so in his element that her instincts tell her it wouldn’t do shit to slam the door in his face and retreat back to the safety of her room. This soldier would just barge through the plywood.

And where did this guy get flowers at this hour of the day? No florist can possibly be open. Then she notices they're not exactly the kind of flowers she has seen at a shop.

Has he picked them from outside…?

"I thought you liked me."

His explanation makes her heart melt a little. He's so straightforward, so utterly without any charades or roles, that it makes her feel like she's the one who has disrespected him with her games. After all, she has done nothing but flirted 24/7 with the poor man for the last week. Of course he only thought she was interested.

"I do. I do like you."

His eyes light up with uncontained hunger. "Can I come in?"

Nope. Big mistake.

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Ok. I'll be going then."

He turns on his heels and is ready to go like nothing ever happened.

“Wha-… König, please, wait.”

He halts on command, turns back, looks at her solemnly. The only thing that gives his confusion away are his eyes, which flicker from her puzzled stare to her mouth, occasionally to the bouquet covering her nether areas.

"Could we just be friends?" She offers him rather desperately.

He merely shrugs.

"Never had any friends."

For some reason, this guy has already started to live rent-free inside her head. She simply can't get him out. And she's intrigued, even when the sanest option would be to stay away from a creepy lunatic like him.

"I can be your friend."

Fuck, what did I just say, what the fuck did I just–

"Sure. Why not," he says immediately. "You just want to be friends?"

She resists the urge to facepalm right then and there in front of him. The guy is not only socially awkward: he's in a state of denial.

Some of his friends – or at least, teammates – pass them by. Kyle, if she remembers correctly, and a Scottish man they call Soap. They both smile at her kindly. It's the first time these men have ever paid her any attention; actually, this is probably the only occasion anyone pays attention to König either. They are both suddenly visible.

"Hey König, don't go harassing our cleaning lady. We got a plane to catch."

König stares somewhere behind her as Soap speaks. His eyes are covered with glass, and she knows that look all too well. The tallest man in the building is dissociating while the two soldiers march by behind him with raised eyebrows and pursed lips: a mocking gesture only she can see.

She watches the scene with an odd pity. It appears they step into existence only when they're together – an unfamiliar setting and an odd couple, the object of ridicule for people who probably claim themselves to be normal.

"I think it would be best, yes," she whispers when the hall is quiet again. She has to start her day soon, and he has a plane to catch - no one else is awake except one hard-working woman and a few operators about to leave on an early mission. She feels the strangest sorrow as she realizes that he wanted to drop by with some flowers and his apology before leaving some place he might never return.

The man gives her a last once-over before taking his leave. He nods slowly, never breaking their gaze: an odd, gentlemanly move.

"Just friends, then."

. . . . .

It is the hottest day yet, and the guy walks around with his black hood even then.

Her new friend.

She's outside, trying to catch some fresh air and sunlight after spending another 8 hours inside a buzzing facility, and somehow, some way, the tall enigma of a man always finds her.

He angles his walk towards her as if he only happened to pass by at the same time she was lounging against the wall and looking at clouds drifting in the sky. In truth, she has an odd, yawning suspicion that she is being stalked nowadays. One of her underwear has gone missing, and she's wretched because her first thought upon finding it gone was the solid assumption that he had stolen them. Which further meant that the man had broken into her room.

But there's also flowers. Every morning when she opens her door, there's a single flower awaiting her. Sometimes, two or three, and not from a store, but from outside, from nature.

He's courting her, and she feels stupidly like a little princess because of those homely yet thoughtful gifts. She doesn't throw them away: they gather on her table, on her window sill, in a little water glass on her bedside table.

She's far too kind, that's what people always say, but she's also neck-deep into this goddamn creep at this point to do anything about it. The building is full of muscled men, men who are decent, and she chooses this… gift-bearing perv to crush on. In her judgment system, she's basically asking for it at this point.

"How are you?"

His accent lingers in the air between them, and she can't help it: it always brings a rush of heat on her cheeks and a rush of wetness down below when she hears him speak.

"I'm good. Just… good. How about you?"

"Sehr gut."

Perhaps the underwear has simply gone missing while washing laundry: it's not unusual when at least 20 people share one washing machine.

And they're only friends. Friends don't steal each other's underwear. Friends ask how they have been, how their day's gone.

"You look nice."

But the summer sun pales in comparison with the heat of that stare. Friends might compliment each other, but they don't look at each other like that.

She feels grungy enough while cleaning, not to mention in the bland, saggy clothes she has to wear every morning, so it can't be a surprise that she likes to put on an effort after the day is done. The citrus-yellow dress she has this afternoon catches his attention like she's a whole circus in town.

"You always look like an angel," he elaborates further, and she has to prevent herself from taking support from the wall upon hearing his compliment.

"Oh.. Thanks," she smiles, and he answers it: the faint creases around narrowing eyes are enough proof of that. "It's so hot… Do you ever take the hood off?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you take it off before bed?"

Oh god.

That sounded weird. She meant to ask if he took it off before sleeping.

Well, 'before bed', 'before sleeping'… What's the difference, really?

Still, he reads into it like a hawk for a seemingly socially graceless case.

"Depends if I'm alone or not," he says. Definitely thinks she's flirting with him again. Talk about sending mixed messages…

Friends, friends. We're just friends.

"Where are you from, by the way? Are you German?"

"No. Austrian."

"Oh. It must be beautiful there at this time of year."

"It is. I would still trade all of Austria for you," he says without any clumsiness, even though the pickup line is awful, one of the worst she has heard – and god, still, those big hands, that fire and ice stare makes her feel high as a kite. The image of him plowing her with the same pace he fucked his hand won't leave her alone.

"König… Just friends," she warns while feeling how another pair of panties is already ruined. She's so wet it's not even funny anymore; it makes her annoyed.

"Ok."

He says ok, but she knows he won't yield. She’s been far too kind for far too long and won't be losing this guy's interest anytime soon.

"How's work?" She tries to patiently show him how to be fricking friends, even if one party is constantly undressing the other with their eyes. As if she's not doing the same…

"You really want to know?"

"Sure."

"Had to scrub intestines from my shoes all night," he says casually. She can only blink and watch how completely distanced and indifferent he seems about something so sick.

"Everything's a mess when you use a knife," he explains further.

"Uh... I'm sure it is."

"Do you regret that you asked?"

"No. Well, perhaps a little."

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks proud; only seems pleased with himself for succeeding in scaring her even more.

"That's why I scrub guts and you scrub floors."

"I guess so," she agrees to his ever-authentic way of saying things how they are. He's a soldier: she can’t change that fact no matter how he or she puts it. Decent guys did the exact same things he did; they just didn't go around telling shy girls about the gory details of their work.

"Do you like knives?"

Nor did they ask things like this. They would ask if she wanted to go see a movie or have a lovely dinner that would end in a kiss and an exchange of phone numbers.

"Um. Yes, I think they're beautiful."

Her response causes a short, deafening silence, a few blinks. The wind catches his mask, but it never rises: she notices he's not only undressing her body, but also her soul with those eyes. Patient, like he knows all her secrets and loves them already.

"What would it take to be more than friends?"

His sudden change of subject is almost as shocking as the devil-may-care account of his work. She is feeling unusually wild; the warm weather and the yellow hues covering the distant horizons make her want to lie down on the grass and pull him on top of her. She thinks of him sliding up the fabric of her cutesy dress, thinks of him opening his pants to get that huge cock out and force it inside.

"Well… You could… Ask me out, for starters?"

"What if you come to my room and I'll show you something," he offers instantly.

As nice and naive as she may be, she's sure the only thing he wants to show her is his cock. Which she has already seen, technically speaking. Which she would like to see again, heaven forbid.

She is slightly breathless and wonders if the heat on her cheeks is visible, if her lips are a bit fuller than usual from her thoughts. Perhaps that's why she resorts to a counteroffer as if she's bargaining here. As if she can't say no.

"Uh.. How about you come and pick me up for dinner this eve–"

"Ok."

He nods with full-blown promise in his eyes and leaves right away, a little too content, and she realizes she has made the worst mistake of her entire life. She will never get a man of his size out of her room if she lets him in and things go awry.

In a hurried decision, she decides she will simply leave him blue-balled at the door. She simply won't go to dinner; she certainly won't let him in. She doesn't have to, even if and when she has to watch him mope for the rest of the year.

She will tell him they're not friends, they're nothing anymore, and that's just it.

She goes, determined and her mind set, to shower, only to notice that she's more soaked than the pool of soap water gathering at her feet. Her body simply betrays her at every turn. Perhaps she should masturbate, just in case, so she won't be weak-willed when he arrives at her door this evening. Yes, that's a brilliant idea, one of the rare good ones she’s had these past few days.

“Jesus–"

By the time she enters her room, wet and throbbing, he's already there.

"How did you get in?"

He shrugs his shoulders like he always does.

"You asked me to visit you."

He doesn't even answer her question about him breaking into her fucking room. He's standing right next to her dresser and a bra she had thrown on one of the open drawers, and she knows right then and there that he's the panty thief.

"Yeah, but… I thought you'd knock or something."

"Sorry."

If you shrug I swear I’m going to…

"Where do you wish to go?"

He's standing there like a contrapposto statue, narrow hips deliciously tilted and with an obvious erection in his pants. He doesn't seem to feel ashamed about it, and it makes her even more wet.

She has a murderous giant in her room, a killer who's visibly turned on by the sight of her underwear, perhaps the lingering scent of her perfume, too… and he's asking where she wishes to go eat tonight so he might have a chance to bang her afterward.

"Do you like Chinese?"

He shrugs as an answer, and she sighs.

"I need to change. Could you turn around?"

The eyes behind the hood regard her with curiosity, but the man does as he is bid. She takes out a floral dress and a more comfortable bra and walks further away to the bed to change. König faces the wall while she gets undressed with trembling hands. She’s sure the man will turn around, march to her, and simply have his way with her before she gets the dress on. Some sick part of her even yearns for it.

But he doesn't. Instead, his head tilts a little to the side, and his hand rises to gently brush the lace of her bra while she's in the most vulnerable position she's ever been with this man. It's an almost equal violation of her privacy as it would've been to turn, but her tongue is tied. And she only now notices he's not wearing gloves.

König is caressing her underwear with no fabric whatsoever between his skin and her chastity, and it makes her breath grow heavy like they're living in the 18th century.

"All set," she says, voice tight, and he lowers his hand and turns as if he has done nothing wrong.

The evening, however, goes far better than she had hoped. Or feared.

He buys them dinner, drinks one beer. They even have a perfectly healthy, civil conversation. She helps herself to a bit of wine to calm her nerves, and they discuss what their dreams used to be before they landed the jobs they currently have.

He reveals he wanted to be a sniper and that he prefers to work alone, but to her question on what went wrong with all that, he merely answers he was 'too clumsy.'

What the man is really trying to say is that he's simply too big. Detectable, loud, and tall.

He hints at being bullied at school and in the army, and she feels even more sorry for him, curses in her mind – if the guy's tactic is to get a girl by being a hot loner with a tragic tale of woe, it sure is working for him.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asks when there's still tension between them, tension that should have melted by now.

"A bit, yeah."

"Is it because of the hood?"

His voice is softer, and she realizes that he's really trying: trying to tone down whatever beast rages inside him, trying his all to be normal instead of some tormented madman.

"No, not exactly," she confesses and feels a sting in her heart when he looks defeated. She almost feels like a bully, too. She wants to take the guy in her arms and shush him to sleep so he would wake up less haunted. But that's not how this goes: she cannot fix him, and even if she could, she has no right to.

He takes her back to the base and stands at her door again. The halls have fallen silent, everyone's asleep at this hour, and her heart is still hammering in her chest.

"Are we still just friends?" He stares at her from the darkness of the hood, shoulders slightly hunched, trying to make himself appear smaller. Less intimidating.

"I…I guess so."

"You think I'm weird, don't you."

His next question is more of a statement. And all she wants to say is no, even if it's a lie. The guy is… not evil; it's just that he certainly isn't sane and sound, either.

"Um… I… Uh-"

"You're the one who watched me in the showers," he points out as if they're keeping score on who's more of a perv.

"Yeah. I guess I'm the weirdo here," she laughs nervously, then almost bites her tongue. He only cocks his head a little to the side and repeats his earlier question.

"Did you like what you saw?"

"Well… yes, ok? I did. Why else would I–"

"It's ok. I understand. I don't mind."

"Well, it was still rude of me to do that." She guides her gaze to the floor, then up at his polar stare that makes her want to swoon in the hopes that he will catch her. "Didn't you notice the sign on the door?"

"I did," he said, and the corners of his eyes slowly gather a few wrinkles. Smiling again.

She shakes her head slowly, scoldingly, and notices how that smile only deepens under the hood. Then his face – or what little can be seen of it – straightens.

"Am I harassing you?"

Wow. Well, at least the poor guy is trying to self-reflect. But something tells her there's more than some new-found awareness of his late behavior at work here.

There's bitterness... Exclusion.

Loneliness.

"No," she tries to comfort him. Another facepalm moment: she is basically telling a stalker she likes being stalked. That this sort of wacko shit was approved of. So this is what it has come to… Years of being invisible apparently did things like this to people.

"Or maybe a bit," she says as a spineless afterthought.

"Do you want me to stop?"

In all honesty, she is drunk on his attention. The obsessive behavior, the relentless wooing, romantic gestures accompanied by a stare that says he wants to plow her until she is a limp heap on a bed stained with tears and cum.

"König… Are you lonely?"

He shrugs, and she wants to grab him. Shake him.

"Are you?" He says with an unusually deep voice.

"...Yes."

Her voice is as fragile as can be, but the hall echoes her confession like it's a loud song. The eyes under the hood look at her softly, longingly: she hasn't even noticed how soft they can sometimes be.

"You don't have to be."

There's simply no use in denying it: she wants this guy to fuck her, no matter how creepy or weird he is.

She grabs a fistful of his shirt and pulls him inside.

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