#könig is already in love ❤️ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Hiiii, I loveeeee ur work ❤️

I was thinking about a head cannon of how some of the mw2 characters (ghost, soap, König, etc) would react to their partner sending them a nude photo?👀👀👀

Sorry if you did this already but I’m pretty sure you haven’t tho cuz I definitely would have read it already 😭

MW2 Reaction to Receiving a Special™ Photo from Their S/O

Warnings: 18+ (just to be safe), Non-Specific/Explicit Implications of Smut, No Pronouns used for Reader except 'You', Singular Mention of Graves Throwing Himself off a Cliff, Dominant! MW2, Submissive! MW2, Dominant! Reader, Submissive! Reader, Profanity, etc.

Ghost

He will literally stare bug-eyed at the picture you’ve sent him like 👁️O👁️

Since it’s a physical photograph, he keeps it on him like a chapstick, which is to say all the time.

He isn’t risking ANYONE besides himself seeing it.

And when he’s about to embark on a mission, he keeps it tucked into his vest right where his heart is so that it’s practically part of him.

He likes to think that, somehow, you can hear – feel – his heart beating, know that he’s still alive and fighting so that he can come home and see you.

And when he returns from a mission and goes to his quarters, he has some…alone time.

You know, to really study the picture.

Not that he doesn’t know every curve and edge of your body already.

But that doesn't stop him growling your name into the pillow as he rocks against it, a hole cut into the bottom of it – a poor imitation of you.

A makeshift lover.

If anyone ends up seeing that picture – if they stole it from him, if by some act of God (because that’s what it’ll take) it slipped out of his vest or pocket – they are in for a World of Pain™.

There won’t be a time they won’t flinch upon hearing Ghost’s name, or when they see his shadow like an omen on the wall as he commandeers the halls. Prowling.

He’d feel pretty guilty about someone else seeing you how he does, even if it was only for a fraction of a second.

So he’s definitely going to make it up to you when he gets back <3

König

His heart can’t take this kind of torment.

He’ll be looking down at his phone, the image of you burning into his skin like a holy artefact.

He definitely gets more jumpy around people when he has his phone on him.

Will literally clam up and shove it into the deepest recesses of his pocket if someone comes too close.

Even when your picture is safely stored behind a password-protected photo album.

He has to excuse himself from training or other commitments whenever his mind wanders back to you, and subsequently that image (which is basically all the time).

Sometimes he calls you while he’s sorting himself out.

He just needs to hear your voice – to feel closer to you.

It’s the only way he can finish.

“Engel,” he rasps, his breath stuttering, “I need you,”

And everyone just looks at him like he’s grown a third eye when he returns because, unbeknownst to him, König can’t keep quiet, and everyone who has never heard even a peep from him is suddenly aware of the carnality that lies beneath his skin, wired into his soul.

And at the centre is his love for you, boundless and overflowing so that the rest of his teammates know it, too.

Not that they mind all too much.

They all sit and think that you must be one beautiful person to evoke such a response from König.

Soap

Will tease you back.

Sends a mirror pic of him in a tight black shirt, saying something like ‘You’ll see the rest when I get home.’

Is absolutely ravenous when it comes to you.

No cap, goes absolutely ham in the shower when the image of you in nothing flashes in his mind.

His low moans are enough of a warning for the rest of the 141 to stay away for the next half an hour or so.

Aside from that, he’ll just look at the picture because he finds you beautiful.

Stares at it while he’s in bed. Laments on how much he misses you ☹️.

He’s counting down the days until he can see you again, and with each that passes, he can feel your silhouette becoming tangible in his hands, as if you were stepping out of the photo.

Sometimes, he dreams that you’re there with him, nestled between his arms.

Other times the dreams are a little more…graphic.

But Johnny can’t help it.

He just can’t contain himself when it comes to you.

Valeria

If you thought her violent tendencies could never extend to you, prepare to be amazed.

The second this woman sees what you’re trying to do – or, rather, what she thinks you’re trying to do – she is not happy.

You could have sent that image with the purest (within reason) of intentions; just letting Valeria know that you miss her, wishing her a good day – whatever.

What she sees is you trying to manipulate her by using your body as an instrument of destruction.

Dramatic, yes. But Valeria has never been one to take chances.

She’ll be deceptively calm over text: ‘Don’t tease me, Darling. You know what happens when you do.’

All day, all she can see is that image.

Whenever she turns a corner, you’re there; whenever she’s talking to someone, you’re peering at her over their shoulder; when she’s alone, you’re sat with her – on her – trying to take her attention away from her paperwork.

Redemption is a baseless concept when Valeria returns home that evening.

You will not know rest until she’s done with you.

Price

“Fuckin’ Hell, Love,” he’ll say, the darkness hanging on his voice tangible even through the voice note.

“What’ve you been up to while I’ve been away, hmm ?”

Will not rest until he knows he’s got you hot and bothered.

This entails him sending increasingly risqué images of himself; first, just one of him flexing, his arms thick and crawling with veins.

The next is of his shirt raised just below his chest, the dim light of the room keeping enough of him shrouded that his identity is unknown to all but you, his wide silhouette taking up most of the picture.

And, if you decide to be resilient against his attempts to make you feel as you have him, you’ll receive a series of menacing messages.

‘Don’t get too comfortable, Angel’, he’ll say.

‘You never know when I’ll come through that door–’

He grins as he sees you’ve read his message, hanging on his every word.

‘And ravage you.’

And you know he means it, too.

Meanwhile, he’s multitasking; keeping a clear, professional head and giving orders while resisting the primal urge to drop everything and find you.

And no amount of pleading or tears will spare you from his wrath when he returns.

Horangi

Regardless of how well the military life trained his self-discipline, nothing can dampen the sheer need Horangi feels whenever he receives a special picture from you.

I’m talking: he will literally sit in silence for ten minutes because he’s got a raging issue he needs to take care of but can’t risk anyone else seeing it.

Will thunder down the hall to the nearest bathroom when the meeting’s over and take out his frustrations there.

When he calls, you’d better pick up the first time.

If you don’t, you’ll have Hell to pay when gets home.

“Baby,” he breathes down the phone, the fog already making his mind frost over, his body burning up.

“What have you done to me–”

These brief encounters are the only thing keeping him sane while he’s away; they make him feel closer to you.

And, repaying you in kind, he returns one night, in the silence of the moon hours.

He finds you, pulls you to him, clutching on tight as you begin to wake.

And, between delirium and consciousness, his voice is all you can hear.

“Shouldn’t have tested me, Sweetheart,” he says, whispering as though partaking in a secret.

“Now I’m going to have to challenge you.” His arms are snakes as they constrict you.

“Fall asleep before I’m done with you, and I promise there will be no end to your suffering.”

Alejandro

Teasing a man as passionate as Alejandro is not going to end well for everyone involved.

Expect to receive a barrage of very choice texts back.

‘You have no idea what you’re doing to me’, he’ll say, followed by a photo of the tent in his trousers.

And a sinister: ‘But you will’.

If he’s away on business for even just a few days, he’ll go practically feral whenever he sees that picture of you.

To everyone else, he’ll be the leader Alejandro Vargas they all know him as – ruthless and righteous.

Yet, there’s something different in the way he walks as he excuses himself from the table, his destination unknown.

His gaze is narrowed and his teeth are grinding, rabid in disposition.

And when he gets home, no matter how long of a day it’s been, you’re in for a very long night.

He’ll appear behind you, a spectre, clamping a hand down on your shoulder.

“You shouldn’t test a soldier, Love,” he says, his grip tightening.

You don't turn around, an exhilarating fear keeping you frozen.

He leans down, his mouth just at your ear, his breath hot.

“Because you never know when he’ll snap.”

Rodolfo

This man is usually rather quiet and submissive when it comes to the more personal aspects of your life together.

But when you send him a picture that makes him question how long he can keep his composure for, you’re in trouble.

You’ll be receiving a phone call from a very exasperated Rodolfo, who, despite his best efforts, has succumbed to your charm.

Definitely a growler when he’s in a dominant mood.

More of a whimperer when he’s not.

At times like these, you get both.

“Darling,” he breathes, the back of his head pressed against the cold cubicle wall. “Look what you’ve done to me…”

His whining is more than enough to let you know the effect you’ve had on him.

And it’s what he says next that makes your blood run cold.

“I won’t let you get away with this.”

The husking baritone in his voice tells you he’s being truthful.

And if you try to clap back with something witty, or even an apology, Rodolfo just laughs.

“The time for mercy is long past, mi Amor,” he tells you.

“All you can do now is prepare for the Reckoning.”

Graves

This smug idiot.

Definitely smirks to himself when he gets that picture.

Has to resist the urge to show it off to everyone in the boardroom because he’s just that proud to have you as his partner.

Yes, he is hard. Yes, he’s still going to give this presentation in front of all the major shareholders.

Why ?

Because he’s Graves. Also, because he knows he has more money than everyone else in that room, and, consequently, more power.

Will shoot you back a text like: ‘Mighty fine work, Babydoll’, followed by, ‘You’re getting a promotion when I get home.’

Yes, he uses corporate jargon when discussing intimate matters.

He’s a businessman at heart, he can’t help it.

Definitely more playful than most of the others on this list.

The type to take his time with you and make you laugh while he does so.

But when he wants to be rough (and when you want him to be), he can be.

And he gets mean when he’s like that.

I’m talking hair-pulling, name-calling – basically just bullying you, but consensually.

Does his best to take care of you, though.

If he found out that he’d actually upset you, he’d literally jump off a cliff – he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

Expect many lavish gifts if this happens, though.

But don’t tell him that I told you that 👀.

Gaz

Will nearly drop his phone – it turns to butter in his hands.

He looks over his shoulder at least fifty times before he’ll allow himself to look at the photo again.

Poor boy’s face is turning red, his palms are sweating, he can’t think straight.

Paranoid 24/7 that everyone knows he has that picture of you.

But it doesn’t intimidate him enough for him to even try to keep quiet in the barracks when he has some alone time.

Similar situation to Soap; everyone knows to steer clear of whichever room Gaz was last spotted walking into for a while.

It would take him a few days for him to send a picture back.

More than likely, it’ll be of him in a scarcely lit bathroom in nothing but his boxers with a very prominent outline in them.

Followed by a text with something to the effect of: ‘Been thinking about you all night, Sweets’

And God forbid you send him another image of yourself. And definitely do not send a message saying ‘Aww, has my good boy been behaving himself ?’

Will literally send him over the edge.

The rest of the 141 can’t commandeer the bathroom for the rest of the day after that.

And when Gaz gets home, just know that your phone screen can’t protect you anymore.

Not when you have a man made of pure intellect and solid mass running full-force at you with all the pent-up energy seen only in a nuclear reactor.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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ghosts-bandwagon · 11 months

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So, could you do task force 141 + König and whomever you’d like, how they would react to you kissing their cheeks as a dare or something? Idk my brain just thought of this

I love this it’s so cute 😭❤️

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

He short circuits honestly

He’s sitting there stuck in place, processing what happened

In the short second your lips made contact with the fabric of his mask, everything in his brain went silent

All the chaos, all the worries, all the voices, everything went silent like coming into the eye of a hurricane, there was peace for a moment

On the outside though? He’s deadpanned 😶

You almost feel like you’re in trouble but then he finally blinks and looks at you, you couldn’t detect any anger or resentment so you beamed at him and went about your merry way

As he’s watching you walk away, that kiss is all he’s thinking about. He’s wondering what it would’ve felt like if he didn’t have the stupid mask on, how soft your lips must be, if it was a little wet or not, he knows the feeling of your lips would be seared there for the rest of his life

He’s thinking about that moment of quiet, that moment of peace, and he’s suddenly questioning himself, almost talking himself up to give it a try, to pursue that peace that you gave him, that peace that he could have with you

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

Don’t think you’re getting away lightly

As soon as your lips made contact with his cheek, his face went red hot and his eyes were glimmering

He looked up at you with a huge grin going from ear to ear

“What’s that for?” He laughed, when you shrugged with a cheeky smile, he melted,

“Dare you to do it again.” He winked,

You stepped in to meet his challenge but before you could even get close, he kissed your cheek instead

Now it’s your turn to be a blushing mess, and Johnny finds that the look suits you quite well

John Price:

He’s been hearing about the date floating around for a while now and brushed it off

At least until you came into his office under the guise of turning in paperwork, when he heard stifled laughter coming from the hallway

You handed him your papers and leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek, your lips were so soft as they made contact with his skin, it sent lightning up his spine

He looked at you with disapproval and you felt the cold sweat bead on your forehead

He motions for you to come in close and you do as you’re told, leaning in, bent at the waist, waiting for him to speak. His face was close to your ear, the hairs on his cheek tickling your skin as he leaned in,

“Next time you feel like doing that, don’t hide behind a dare, love.” He sat back with a knowing glint in his eyes, “That’ll be all, sergeant.”

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

Oof sweetheart, he already knows about the dare that’s been circulating on base, he’s been waiting

And then he sees you walking towards him like the cat that got the cream

He already knows and he’s a little smug about it smh

What isn’t prepared for is how his brain fires on all cylinders the moment your lips pressed against his cheek

It was like a jolt of electricity shot straight through him, like something in him came alive

He’s not one to be rendered speechless too often but he’s dumbstruck

He had a plan of pulling you back in so he could return the kiss but he was stuck in place, slack-jawed with his hand slowly coming to rest on the spot you kissed

He’ll get you back eventually, right now he just needs to process what just happened

König:

Error 404. König not found

He appreciated that you didn’t lift his hood so you could kiss him but in that moment he wished it wasn’t there

He felt the warmth of your skin through the fabric and he mourned not feeling the soft skin of your lips against his cheek

It felt like going outside and feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin, breathing the fresh spring air and sitting on a blanket in the park

He started imagining you there, sitting in the park among the flowers, your eyes closed in bliss as you take in the warmth of the sun and breathing the freshness of the air

He wasn’t on an army base in god knows where, he was sitting there in that park with you, mesmerized by your smile, holding your hand in his

He was snapped back to reality when you waved your hand in his face, apologies pouring from your lips

He can barely process the words as he leans in and repeats the action, pressing his clothed lips against your cheek

He can’t help the satisfaction when he sees you short circuiting as much as he was

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httpsghostie · 9 months

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I’m a new follower but I literally so obsessed it’s unhealthy. Like it’s to the point where I just daydream about the fics you wrote.

My birthday is coming up, and my dirty mind is restless.

I am not requesting a whole fic, maybe a Drabble about female reader with König and Ghost 🤭 and they find out it’s her birthday 🤭 and give her a very… big… birthday present. 😏😏😏. I am sorry 😂

(If anything makes you uncomfortable please ignore this.)

Big fan,

Love you. ❤️❤️

Birthday Gift

honestly? no words, we're the same

btw happy birthday!!!! wish you the best (by that I mean I hope you find yourself between ghost and könig)!! ilyyy <33

this is so filthy why am I like this

hope you enjoyyy!

Summary: it's your birthday and your friends want to give you a big present.

Word Count: 1,8k

Warnings: smut, Simon 'Ghost' Riley x female!reader x König, unprotected piv and dvp sex (dont b silly wrap your weenie), breeding kink, lots of pet names, no use of y/n

masterlist

On a typical morning of work, you found yourself casually having breakfast with Price. It wasn't common for him to be around for more than ten minutes, so you just enjoyed a little bit of bonding with your captain, who almost always treated you like a long distance daughter.

"You're gonna get older in a few days." He started, sipping his coffee. "Excited?"

"Yay, minus one year!" You cheered playfully and he chuckled. He was the only one in the squad who knew your birthday anyway.

As he finished his plate, he grabbed his hat from the table and excused himself off, and you followed your day with the chores you were assigned to.

A few days passed by and it was finally your big day, and you were woken up in the middle of the night by your teammates knocking on your door. As you sleepily opened the door, you couldn't hold back a smile.

They were in party hats, and Soap was in the middle, holding a definitely homemade cake, telling you to make a wish. You chuckled at the sight, a little bit of the pink icing simply falling on his finger. You closed your eyes and blew the candles, and they invited themselves in.

They thought of everything, they were able to sneak a few plates, forks, cups, soda and especially the cake into your room without disturbing any other soldiers. You all sat in a circle on the ground and ate the cake, giggling and chuckling quietly like you were all teenagers in a sleepover. Slowly they went back to their rooms, leaving you, Ghost and König behind.

They looked at each other nervously, and you couldn't comprehend what they were trying to telepathically communicate, mostly because emotions couldn't be displayed over the fabric that covered their faces. Ghost wore a simple black balaclava and König wore his usual t-shirt hood.

"So…" Ghost cleared his throat in annoyance at König's obliviousness. "We have a present for you."

"If you want." König added.

"If you want." Ghost sighed and rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I mean- I do, what is it?" You chuckled in confusion, looking at them.

Ghost clears his throat and slowly gets up from the floor you were all sitting on. König follows his lead and they both stand towering over you. You get on your knees to get up too, but König's hand gently presses your shoulder back down.

"You know," Ghost starts untying the knot of his sweatpants and pulling them down together with his boxers, enough to expose his already hard member, "we just didn't have the time to wrap it."

He placed the tip on your lips and slowly pushed himself inside your mouth. What the fuck was happening? You thought to yourself, but you weren't mad, though.

König got rid of his clothes, tapping his dick on your face, and you pulled away from Ghost with a pop, jerking him off. Your lips met with the precum seeping out of König's tip.

"Been dying to know how those pretty lips feel around my cock." He said between gritted teeth as he entered your mouth slowly.

You bobbed your head up and down, trying to take the most you could, but they were so big. Ghost held your hand firmly around his cock and slowly fucked your fist as König held your hair in a ponytail so it didn't fall on your face.

You pulled away once again and sucked Ghost eagerly, gagging when he brushed his dick in your throat. Your hands jerked König off at the same speed you bobbed your head.

König couldn't contain himself anymore, he needed to be inside of you, he needed to stretch you out. He picked you up and threw you on the bed, taking your pants off instantly. Ghost took his clothes off, and then your shirt, and positioned himself beside you, one of his hands holding the back of your knee to spread for König.

The austrian man spared no time to go down on you, his tongue swirling around your already wet folds. He moaned into your clit as he masturbated, imagining how tight you'd feel, Ghost watched as you moaned under him. His tongue worked magically, and you lost it when he inserted two fingers inside of you.

But he was impatient, he only did that for you to grow used to his not so subtle size. He towered over you and lined himself with your entrance, pushing it deep inside and holding your legs around his waist.

“Bet she’s fucking tight, eh?” Ghost murmured, lost in the heat of your pussy swallowing such a fat cock. He got closer to you, his dick hovering over your face. You licked a long strike from his balls to his extremity, and took him all in your mouth. Your hand grabbed his thigh as he was kneeling beside you, and signaled for him to define the pace. “What a slut, huh? Want me to fuck your mouth, is that it?” He growled in his thick accent.

You nodded anxiously, the feeling of being stuffed almost too overwhelming. He fucked your mouth ruthlessly, inevitably making you choke and gag, drooling all over yourself. König watched as you had fun on Ghost’s cock and buried himself deep into your cervix, mercilessly pounding into you.

“You take us so well, liebling.” He whined, holding your hips firmly. You couldn’t help but moan at the sudden roughness, but your moans were muffled as your mouth was filled. Ghost’s hand traveled to your clit, where he started to draw circles and rip a few more cries from you. König held your thighs against you and railed whatever thoughts you had on your brain.

“Be a good girl ‘n cum for us.” Ghost demanded as he pulled away from your mouth and you were finally able to gasp for air. König’s thrusts combined with Ghost’s hand stimulating your clit were too much to take, and the knot inside of your stomach rapidly increased.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” You whined pathetically, and they didn’t stop. König reached a spot you didn’t even know he could, and you weren’t able to hold it anymore, orgasming on his dick and clenching around him.

“There you go, engel.” König said, pulling out. He caressed your fucked out face and lifted his hood to plant a kiss on your lips, that turned into him sucking and biting your neck.

Ghost grabbed you from the waist and flipped you over, pulling you by the hips and brushing the tip of his cock all around your vulva. König sat down in front of you and jerked his throbbing length slowly, not breaking eye contact with you. Something about his innocent eyes behind that mask was so sexy. Ghost entered your abused hole and gave you a second to adjust, he wasn’t as big as König, but he was far from average too. Everything about them was far beyond average.

The soothing touch of Ghost’s hands on your ass were soon washed away when he started to fuck you viciously, digging his nails on your flesh. König also impatiently grabbed your hair and made you suck on his cock, one hand holding the base of it. He didn’t push you, instead he held your head firmly and bucked his hips up in order to fuck your mouth. You looked at him with innocent eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“‘M gonna use this pretty cunt of yours as my fucking toy.” Ghost muttered in a husky voice. “Show me how needy you are.” He gripped your hips so strong you swore it would bruise. He slammed his weight on you relentlessly, your moans vibrating on König’s cock.

“That’s it, hase, ‘feel so fucking good.” König whimpered.

The sounds in your room were unholy, the air was filled with lust and sex, and you felt another climax approaching. König pulled you up, manhandling you to straddle his lap, and made you sit on his shaft. You whined at the sudden loss of Ghost’s dick and the denial of your orgasm, but gladly bounced on König, your ass jiggling up and down. Ghost came right behind you, lining himself with your pussy and thrusting hard into you, making you feel even more filled, if that was even possible.

“Look at this,” Ghost said, “taking two cocks in your pussy.” You moaned in response, your forehead laying against König’s chest. “Tell us the truth, you’ve been dreaming about this, don’t you?” Your eyes meet König’s, and you nod. His head falls back and he rolls his eyes. “I asked you a question.” Ghost chokes you firmly, raising your chest.

“Yes, fuck.” You whimper, closing your eyes as another wave of heat clashed against your bruised flesh. “I’ve been needing this for way too long.” He smirks.

“Don’t tell me.” He says in a low and cocky tone. “That’s why you stare at us like there’s no tomorrow, huh?” He said in between breaths.

The heat of an orgasm hits you again, and you cry out in pleasure, legs trembling as König holds your thighs firmly and looks deeply in your eyes.

“I can’t…” You manage out a moan. “Too much…” Your brain was melting at this point.

“Shh, hase, didn’t you say you wanted this?” König pleaded. “Shut up and take your birthday gift. It’s not our fault that you’re a needy whore that won’t stop coming on our cocks.” Ghost widens his eyes at the sudden words of the impatient König beneath you, and you can’t help but feel embarrassed, cheeks painted red with shame. König whined, digging his nails even deeper on your hips, desperately trying to reach his high. “Want my cum inside you?”

You press your lips together, feeling sweat dripping on your spine as Ghost holds your arms on your sides, and you nod. He inserts two fingers in your mouth, smiling when you gag on them. And he comes. You feel the warm seeds filling your pussy as he pulls out, leaving Ghost to chase his climax alone, fucking his cum back into your walls.

He unexpectedly pulls out and grabs a fistful of your hair as he gets up and stands in front of you, his cock already coated with König’s cum. He jerks himself relentlessly in front of you until he cums on your tongue, his head falling back and rolling his eyes. You swallow his bitter cum and suck him a few more times.

“Well, happy birthday.” He says, lifting the mask and giving you a peck on your sweaty forehead.

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comfortless · 22 days

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Hello! This is the Frankenstein anon back with more praise and another prompt that you might like. Again you are amazing and everyone you come out with stuff, I weep for joy! Please continue what you are doing because it is absolute art✨

Okay onto the prompt. So lately tiktok has been putting onto this telenova drama called Hilda Furcão which is pretty much this priest and prostitute fall in love but due to societal pressures, cannot be together. The YEARNING in this show is amazing and I can’t help but think of Priest Konig in this situation. Imagine he falls in love with reader who works at a brothel but because he’s a churchly man, he’s fighting demons in his head (and down yonder) cuz he YEARNS for her but the lord says no🥴

Please keep doing what you’re doing and I’m constantly cheering you on with your work! ❤️

In the Arms of Flowers

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. pining, lots of talk of religion/silly metaphors, fluff, ridiculous attempts at courtship from both, dark (if you squint), implied cyber stalking, violence/murder, minor character death, some angst, sexual violence (not done by König), König becomes horribly obsessed and reader is fine with it, virgin!König-> oral (both receiving) piv smut.

wc: 11k.

There’s a garden in the churchyard, one that’s always been, even before his vows were taken and the cassock was pulled around his shoulders.

It’s the very place that the arching den window in the clergy house faces out towards, and the very place that an angel descends from Heaven to stalk through night after night.

Even when the thunder clamors and rolls to light up the sky above, the pretty thing is there, kneeling amongst the blooming lilies. A listless sort of purity swallows over her, bathes her in the white of petals and the bright illumination of each bolt of lightning above, arcs a halo over her head like a proper mirage.

The whole town knows these doors remain open, but never does she even look toward the church or the home of holy men at all: only the flowers. The lilies and carnations seemed to be her favorite to haunt, weaving through the petals as they sway for her in breezes like whispers from the pouting lips of cherubim.

He’s prayed for this lost soul many times already; clutched the rosary between his fingers and whispered to the Lord to protect her, to heal whatever aches, to bring her wandering feet into the chapel one of these days. But as most lilies, this one’s beauty is gone away by mid-morning.

Tonight, he wills himself to bring her in for prayer and refuge from the coming rain. Its been a long time coming, and regrettably he’s hesitated at every other opportunity. Nothing’s changed, the scene was so commonplace even the others have commented on it prior.

Maybe he hallucinates her holiness; the halo has become made up of fallen petals now as they arch over the crown of her head where she’s found sprawled out amongst them. She raises herself to sit upright, dusts the dirt from her knees and offers a wary glance with each step he takes until his soles halt in soil that would soon be mire.

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave,” the angel breathes out with her eyes darting from his collar down to rest at the expanse of short blades of grass between them. “I don’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

She doesn’t meet the concern in his eyes, and König is no stranger to sin. To the shame and grief that he’s absolved from far worse than her in the stuffy wooden confessional.

“You’re welcome to stay.” A silent prayer rests there in his breath — please stay, though even he wasn’t certain as to why there’s a demand stirring in the pit of his stomach for this woman clad in a dirtied white dress.

She smiles then, gazes right up at him in such a way that immediately sparks something misplaced, something tucked away beneath studying scripture and kneeling before the wooden altar. A sin of the flesh, a heated poker jabbing at both his heart and his loins.

“No, I’m okay,” she assures with a slight dip of her head, already taking steps back to dart away, back to whichever gilded little nest of baubles and starlight she took flight from. “I was just heading home.”

And that’s it. He doesn’t plead for her to come inside, the offer has been laid out already. It’s not his job to force a belief that one doesn’t want, only lend a kindness and a cushioned pew, advice for the lost and a choir for bleating lambs.

He bids her goodbye and walks back to the clergy house, ignoring the strange looks of his peers as they all prepare to bed down after a nightly prayer. It’s rare to smile here, when sacred words are passed from the wrinkled, cracked lips of his seniors. But König does smile, the grin is as bright as the seconds of white lighting up the sky in intervals as he silently thanks God for such a sweet vision amidst such darkness.

The fixation does not falter for the following three nights. She doesn’t return to the churchyard to whisper secrets to the blooms, but the angel weighs on his mind so heavily that König finds himself convinced that she must have been his calling, a soul that he would assuredly save.

His sermons now lack their passion. The parishioners come to him with weighty hearts and misery in their eyes, but bless him all the same, even when he’s distant. Away with the fairies, some would say. He can’t help but wonder when one such service rolls to a closing prayer if whoever conjured such words had also been in the presence of a seraph.

“Do you need prayer?,” one of his fellow priests asks as the flock trickles out, worry clear in the wrinkles laden beneath this eyes and the way his lips draw down before pressing thin. “You don’t seem to be sleeping well.”

And König regrets the words he speaks next, when he describes the woman from the flowers in detail greater than necessary: how her eyes seemed so soft, her smile fragile, and her body language more docile than that of even a lamb. He mentions the dirty dress, the way she seemed to be trying to escape something yet refused the shelter he offered.

The other priest nods and sighs, his eyes squeezing shut in thought, and though König has not feared a scolding since he abandoned home nearly two decades prior, the way the ordinarily calm priest seems so frustrated by this sends a swell of fluttering anxiety beneath his ribcage.

“The woman you describe is a temptress,” his elder explains coldly. His sharp, dark eyes rest on König’s face as though the disparity in their height does not exist at all. “Best to let her be, she does not want our help. Leave it alone.”

“Ja. Verstanden.”

The warning is enough to dull the buzzing in his chest, the mush that’s been made up of his head until he sees her again.

The bakery in town regularly makes donations of pastries and thick loaves of bread for church goingson. It isn’t regular that he’s been asked to pick them up; the eldest of the priests usually does so, some blood relation to the owners that König has never cared enough to ask about. The old man never did well in the summer months, though, far too frail now to bear the heat snaking over his pale skin and leaving burns.

With the mistake of rambling onward about this perturbing fascination still grating at his mind, he doesn’t hesitate to volunteer, to take the old truck and step away from the stained glass and crucifixes for a brief outing. A moment of respite.

There’s a complimentary mug of coffee presented across the expanse of the counter when the cashier greets him with a smile so broad it seems faked.

König’s fingers twitch when he grasps at the handle; the uncertainty was something he had sworn he would outgrow one day with God’s healing, but it never seemed to stray far from him. It rests over the back of his neck like a feeding vampire when he takes his first sip, one that burns his tongue and stings at his eyes when he notices the woman seated at a table in the corner.

It’s her: temptation and fate packaged up in a loose fitting sweater that covers the pulse in her neck and a short skirt.

She holds her phone, not the mug stationed before her, staring down at the thing with the most somber expression he’s ever seen on a lady before. She taps her thumbs at the screen, talking to someone, but there’s a loneliness in her expression apparent like the rust on the old truck parked outside.

Poor little thing.

She glances up when his staring is detected, confusion stripped bare upon her with a pinched brow and a slack jaw. Then, follows realization and she offers the same smile she did that night, some seventy or so hours prior.

“Morning, Father.”

There’s not a fractal within König that wants to make the sweet spirit uncomfortable, but each step he takes towards her table seems to make her shoulders tense. She knows that he knows, sees that sympathetic look in his eye and hates it.

Maybe even hates him for the divinity he wears in the sable cloth pulled over his shoulders.

That doesn’t stop his approach.

König sits across from her with shaking hands and a forced smile like the one the cashier wears, drops his mug onto the table and offers her his hand. Fingers bending to graze the palm as though beckoning a frightened animal when it’s he who feels most afraid.

The angel merely eyes him cautiously for a moment before she takes the cup into both of her hands and gives him a fragile huff, dismissing his attempt to pray for her soul. Again. Yet, the sting he feels is not from a lack of a starved savior complex being satisfied, only… that he has yet to touch her somehow. That sudden thought stifles him in full.

But angels are nothing if not merciful and loving; she picks up on his dejection and speaks again in his place.

“How are the carnations?”

“Hm?”

“The flowers in the garden… the red ones,” she elaborates with a soft laugh, hides it behind the rim of her cup when it’s raised for her to take a sip. Her mouth looks soft, compelling, and he’s staring again. “I like them the most.”

He knows he should stop this, that what’s become of an innocent meeting has left him feeling anything but. There’s a howling chasm in place of the heart of a worthy devotee. She’s nothing like the women who frequent the church — the only other women he sees. Brighter at best and alluring at the worst.

“I thought the lilies were your favorite…” It’s unsuited for a priest and a man so tall and broad to sound so breakable, but his voice only comes in an hurried breath, embarrassed and small.

She shakes her head, tousles her hair in the process. “I like all of them. The ones at your church grow prettiest.”

“I see…”

The woman gives him an expectant look, as if prompting him to speak more, before her phone chimes and the air seems to shift from tentative yet sweet to something vast and cold. She doesn’t seem eager to be interrupted in such a way, either; her expression falls from that subtle playfulness to something akin to a regretful acceptance.

She stands from her seat abruptly and takes a step towards the door. “I have something I need to take care of.”

God gives and takes away.

“I can bring you some,” he offers, winding in the too-small wooden chair to face her. Too late to reel in the flirtatious nature of such an offering, too late to bite his tongue and remember the vows he had taken. The burden upon his heart seems far more pressing than any words from an old book. “Carnations and lilies… some of the others, too.”

The woman almost seems shy when she glances over her shoulder and offers him the most imperceptible nod. “Yeah, sure… I’ll see you around.”

His angel leaves him to rot in thought at that lonely table, in this tiny bakery. He does not think to repent for the way his temperature and pulse spiked in her presence, for the way he takes her empty cup and stuffs it into one of the boxes of baked goods to collect later.

Riding back to the church is dreadful, because she’s already fastened to his heart like a ribbon on a pretty bouquet. He’ll ask the sisters from the cloister to clip flowers for him, tie them up in a lace that will leave her face warmed and lips pouting.

When the people in the church have their fill of sweets and bread, König tells a lie, maybe several.

He claims he doesn’t know why that innocuous porcelain thing is resting where food once had, doesn’t know why the baker would have stuffed that in there too. He takes it to his room and claims that he would return it come morning.

The bed has always felt far too small for him alone, but he pictures her there with him, sat upon his lap when he brings the cup up to his lips with his eyes closed.

It’s cold and hard, difficult to imagine it to be a kiss at all, but he pretends her lips are upon him, eager and willing. It takes only rolling his tongue back to flick over itself, envisioning it being her own, for him to feel his trousers grow too tight. He doesn’t touch himself. He can’t bear the thought of it, not with the cross staring down at him from the far wall.

And finally, regret comes.

Shame, too, because König is aware he’s become a bit of a creep; enchanting himself with second hand kisses whilst his angel takes another man to bed. A man undeserving, but… he could be. He was deserving enough to become a holy man, surely she could see he was worthy of her as well.

The bed is too small even when he curls into himself and pulls the blanket up passed his eyes. Sleep is too skittish to come for him, even when he prays in a whisper to be absolved of his lust.

The dreams are only filled with images of an angel trapped in a rose bush, the thorns sinking into her wings until blood is drawn, but still she smiles. She reaches toward him with shaky limbs, whispers something so dreadfully mournful he knows to his very soul that she is his purpose alone.

It’s what wakes him in a fit, compels him to venture out through the yard with a heart set on seeking guidance. There are moonbeams above and animal calls from the surrounding trees. All of God’s creations are in perfect, dreamy harmony.

Why couldn’t he be the same? Always the outsider in one way or another; always the sore thumb rather than the loving green. Desolation is an art, a skill he’s learned to hide back: clenched teeth to still a wrathful tongue and a layer of muscle to guard that wounded thing in his chest.

There is no better peace than the quiet of the church in the late hour. Moonlight through stained glass and empty, antique seats that would make the worldly whip out their phones to snap pictures in a heartbeat. The doors are always open, for the sinners and the devoted alike, though the confessional is rarely touched when there would be no saint awake set on absolving.

Perhaps that’s why he takes to the booth he needs to make himself smaller to fit into: one shoulder and one foot first, then the next set. He’s never cared for it, left it to the better and smaller. The sound just past the thin partition rattles him. It isn’t the creaking of wood below his feet, but something softer. A weak sniffle. A cry from the other side.

“I’ll leave in a moment,” comes a voice, broken from tears and so horribly sad that the usual script entirely fails him. He recognizes the voice, though a bit warbled now. The voice that would make the choir pause, an angel’s sweet tone.

“Wait… no. You can stay. I’m hiding, too.” A breathy laugh comes forced and misplaced. Priest or not, König has never been the best at consoling anyone, let alone one so far above him.

“I’m not hiding,” she tries to sound braver now. He can imagine her chin tilted forward and that sweet smile trying it’s damndest to paint its way across her face. “But… why are you?”

“Don’t know.”

“Who are you?” The crying seems to have ceased entirely for now. Clearly whatever seemed to ail her could be remedied by her own curiosity. A cute, unorthodox little thing.

“König.” It served well enough as a confirmation name when he could not settle on one of the saints. King of them all, one of the other saved men had said in jest. Ironic, now.

“I like your voice, König,” she murmurs, deliberately testing the pronunciation on her tongue in such an alluring way that a small shiver runs its way down his spine.

“Danke… and you?”

God forgive him, he doesn’t even try. Doesn’t try to bring shame or guilt, read her scripture or pray for her soul. He only listens in silence when she tells him her name, beautiful and charming as he had expected it to be. The woman then tells him of her work, of the motel she ventures to at night… the troubles with money and even vaguely, some of the men she suffers through. This had been a bad night. Strange how a singular hour could have broken someone down to such a desperation to open up, to grasp for what small comfort they could receive.

But she came for him.

She must have hoped to see him.

He thanks his god for that.

— — —

“I bought a phone.”

“I see that.” Her fingers graze over the stems of the flowers, cleanly cut by hands more patient and stable than König’s own.

The angel isn’t looking up at him, not this time. There isn’t even a smile on her face when she cradles the bouquet close to her chest, petting over it where she sits upon the motel bed wearing nothing but some strappy, barely-there lingerie. Pure white with pink lace over the cups of her bra where her breasts swell with each shaky intake of breath.

In this week apart, he’s kept the device hidden in a loose pocket and spent many a night scouring the seediest websites looking for a hint of a body that may belong to her in this very area. Only one seemed to match. The messages exchanged were about hours and pricing, establishing a location, and terms he didn’t quite understand. He didn’t harp on the small details, but finding her messages to be so rigid and dry did surprise him. There were no cute hearts or winking emojis, it all felt horribly transactional.

Priests don’t make a lot of money, it all goes back to the church, but he’s thieved enough from the offering bowls to have a night with her alone. As disheartening as the lack of flirtations seemed, he hoped not to squander whatever opportunity this outing proved to be.

The balaclava covering his face wasn’t purchased with the intention of making her nervous, only… shielding himself from curious stares. The whole town knows his face, his name, the words he speaks so resolutely to his flock. Just as well as they know of who she is, what she does.

Even this knitted shield couldn’t hide himself from her, though. The very moment he entered this drab, modestly decorated room with flowers in hand she had only looked further lost.

“You look very pretty,” he tries as he removes the mask and drops it to the floor, kneels just a hair from where her feet dangle from the bed. “I’m glad that I found you.”

“Thank you.”

The flowers are placed on the side table, petals falling down to the thin carpet below. A cascade of red like blood and white like doves feathers. Purity and a wound in one.

The poor thing looks scorned when she does give him a glance then, but she forces herself into a position that stokes a hellish, unnatural flame within him. Her thighs part as her hands rest on the cups of her bra, pushing the thin fabric down to reveal areola, her soft nipples, sights that he had never seen before.

“You shouldn’t even be here, König,” the lady warns when his gaze sweeps over the innocent flesh laid bare before him. The angel isn’t even wet. Her panties are pristine over her womanhood, and it dawns on him that… she wouldn’t risk what he was even for the generous donation he had given.

“I don’t want to ruin you.”

But she should. Crumble him into salt, cast him away with the wind. Should.

She sees something holy in him too… albeit, not in the way that he would like for her to.

He swallows hard as he rises to his feet and sits next to her. The hands that were so accustomed to being joined in prayer find her breasts now with tentative touches, a curious squeeze, until he wills himself to readjust the fabric and conceal her properly.

“Ja, but… I just wanted to visit you.”

“You don’t need to pay me just to see me.”

The tension in the room finally begins to dissolve. Not by much, but when she sighs something that sounds like amusement, the restless throbbing of his heart does begin to settle.

As much as he would like to take her like some beast in rut, lay some claim to her in bursts of white seed, he doesn’t even know where to begin. Each curve of her body looks as though it would feel like a miracle beneath his palm, under his tongue.

It’s just that nothing is going to happen, not here, not now that he’s brought a prostitute flowers and revealed who he was to her. She sees something pitiful, where he only sees someone to love.

He can’t tell her that he dreams of her, that he views her in the same way he views his god. That would only scare her away, lead her to believe he’s a lunatic rather than a man only just now having his first taste of love.

“Then could I see you every night? So that you don’t have to…” His head dips, because no matter how he tries he knows any word he says is foolish.

This isn’t something she’s doing because it is fun for her; it’s a job just like his own. Flesh or words spoken… did it even matter? And yet, König could feel a malicious, gnawing envy at the thought of a bolder man taking his place tomorrow evening. That man wouldn’t hesitate to peel away her pretty lingerie and fuck her, shove his tongue into her mouth while his cock sat between her legs as if it belonged there.

“König,” she sighs next to him, pityingly.

His jaw tenses as his fingers curl into his palms. The hopelessness of it all crashes down around him as though sung out from the loudest of the choir. He hardly notices when she presses her head against his shoulder, only realizes how close she’s come to him when her hand curls over one of his own.

“You’re the strangest man I’ve ever met.” It’s not a compliment but it feels like one when she laughs like that, airy and soft. “The sweetest one, too.”

He smells her perfume from this close, something scented like fruit or maybe maple, sap-sticky and saccharine. All of her flesh feels warm against the plain t-shirt he wears, a warmth he would give anything to dive into, but not without her explicit command. A powerful seraph in the form of one painfully cute, gentle lady. If anyone could see what he saw now, they too would forsake those holy books and eat from her open palm instead.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confesses, a peculiar bitterness hanging on his tongue.

“How about a walk?”

He pulls the balaclava over his face again when they make their way out into the quiet, darkened street. Hand in hand. It’s not from shame, but a necessity, perhaps, because his pale face has only flowered into a lasting pink since laying eyes upon her on that mattress, sprawled out and waiting. The blush only deepens with every squeeze she blesses him with, every hushed word spoken as she tells him about her favorite places.

She’s dressed in the same white dress they had initially met in, now clean of the dirt from flower beds. Somehow even more radiant at this close, too.

The churchyard and the clergy house are nothing in comparison to the way the rest of the town feels when the moon rises. It’s a world all their own, a place where no one looks at her as if she were a simple harlot, but a queen amongst chipping wood and tarmac. There’s even a skip in her step as she walks ahead of him, her hips swaying beneath her skirt. All because there’s no one here but she and her most loyal and only acolyte.

He wills himself out of her grasp when they cross the threshold into the cemetery. The darkness there is enough to pull him back to earth; thoughts of how easily swayed he’s been linger in the back of his mind. The want doesn’t even begin to reel back its claws, but the guilt does sink its pearly fangs in alongside it.

“I get it. You don’t want to be seen with me,” she says a small step away, drawing her hand up to her chest. It’s the saddest she’s ever looked, and he doesn’t have the words to further explain that he has no god damn idea what he’s doing: here, with her, in the midst of something that feels so normal even though it should not.

“Nein! That’s not—“

“You don’t want to touch me. You barely talk…”

Because the words don’t come easy. Because he’s never felt such an overbearing devotion to anyone, anything apart from what he prays to. How could she… this woman that shared in such loneliness with him not see him for what he was, not see him in the way that he sees her?

“You’re misunderstanding.”

“You just want to… to convert me, is that right?,” she hisses, sounding more shaken up than he had ever hoped to hear.

All hesitation had to be swallowed back.

There was no other option. He could feel her slipping away, a pain he wasn’t prepared to face.

God gives and takes away, but König refuses to let go.

His eyes narrow, his breath halts entirely, and he cups her face in his hands as gently as he can. The distance between them feels like miles as he lowers his head to kiss her through the knit barrier. It’s flighty and petrifying on his side… he feels cold sweat wet his brow when the warmth of her pulls through.

She could hit him, spit her curses like a proper witch, and he would only fall to her feet and kiss her heels. But… she does none of those things. Whatever pain was brewing here is ripped away with the night breeze.

Her hands peel away the balaclava, discard it somewhere into the tall grass where it wouldn’t be found, and she grants him his first, proper kiss.

With only the cracked headstones and cemetery angels watching, what once was tentative becomes a full indulgence. König samples from her mouth as though it weeps honey when the gentle peck graduates to a parting of lips. His hands run down the length of her sides as she grasps at his shirt, they pull her in close until her chest meets his own and two pairs of eyelids flutter.

She feels more heavenly than his imagination could have prepared him for, her tongue hotter and her sounds… the soft sighs and shaky murmurs of approval that fill him with both a maddening love and an urge to burn everything away if only it would keep her safe and near.

The world ceases to be entirely, cast down with Lucifer to the sulfur and smoke. Her lips remain parted when they break apart, a haze over her eyes reflecting the veil clouding his own irises.

Was a kiss really forsaking his vows? Was that really such a painful treachery? No… no it shouldn’t be. The issue remains that he can not see her as just some woman. Something as small as this could consume him entirely.

The night is spent with an abundance of those shared kisses when they return to the motel. Tentative touches, too. He’s never held a woman, not in the way he gets to hold her then. She presses tightly to him, her back to his chest with her hand keeping his own in place over her middle. She’s so soft, swans down plush and smooth as silk ribbon.

There is mint lingering on her breath each time she speaks. No talk of her work, only… she confesses how she had feared him so initially, how she worried that a holy man stepping into her life would only be further condemnation: an angel terrified by a devil that does not exist at all.

He knows he’s lost a part of himself here when he tells her he wishes to meet with her again, that if the church is no longer the place she fancies to walk, he’ll meet her amongst the dead again and again when the old clergymen sleep. Those promises he had reserved solely for God turn on themselves now, when he reveres the idol he shares this bed with.

Though her hips press back against his groin when his fingers crawl up to her sternum, and the desire strikes up within him, his cock remains untouched here. He doesn’t whisper a prayer for forgiveness into her hair when he grows hard, just tucks her in closer and smiles where his head rests atop her own.

It’s the closest to bliss he’s ever felt.

— — —

“You weren’t here for morning prayer.” The voice isn’t accusatory, just observant. The nightly prayers were missed too, though a reprieve is granted by way of those remaining unmentioned.

But the guilt does eat at König when he sees the concern in this man’s eyes, splinters at his very soul until he asks in a fragile voice if he can speak to the old priest in the confessional.

Everything here feels much too small and the booth is more or less the same. The wood closes in around him, bathes him in a blackness that even the glow of candlelight within these walls can not reach. The partition separating them does not help bolster courage, it only leaves him feeling more alone.

The clergyman listens in silence as König confesses that he has become weak. He does not mention the lady of the night, but there’s no need to at all: finding himself so captivated with a woman that he considered breaking every promise to the higher power was bad enough. He does not mention how he’s considered pleasuring himself, touching her too… only that they shared a night together embraced, counts the kisses that were exchanged with each digit of his hands.

There’s a pitying sigh from the other side before the man begins a lengthy prayer that König does join him in. With the “Amen” that follows, he’s told only to rid himself of those thoughts, to bury them with fasting and prayer. No more visits with this temptress, remain on the right path. The very, very simple things he must do to receive God’s forgiveness and favor once more.

“You are not a disappointment,” his elder reminds him with a small pat to his cheek and a smile. It’s more fatherly than the sparse affection he received from his own flesh and blood before coming here.

“Danke… thank you,” he breathes when his eyes bear the burden of tears.

God loves him and so do the sainted men.

But to never see her again would be worse than flagellation.

He chokes down the pain with more water when his stomach roars with hunger, hides the broken heart with smiles and prayer. Holy clothes feel heavier now. The money he stole to spend that night with her is returned to the collection pool in a week's time. The smartphone he had purchased is tossed out with the rest of the garbage in the bins. Even the cup is returned to the bakery after being rinsed in the sink.

Still not a part of him feels absolved from this torturous puppet show.

He thinks of her more than he ponders over his fear of Hell itself. God feels like an old memory as the days pass. He counts them in his daybook, an ‘X’ next to the dates he had gone without seeing her. Ten becomes twenty, and it becomes no less agonizing.

The prayers come easier, at least. He joins with his fellow men, kneels with his hands clasped before him, speaks such heartfelt words now that on more than one occasion he’s shared a healing tear or two with the other clergymen.

God is an old friend, yes, but that title is just a placeholder for the one his prayers are truly for. The little angel of the garden, the woman who has given him nothing at all but stole his heart all the same. Was she not the same as God from that aspect?

After a month, he’s finally given the privilege to stand before the altar and preach to the parishioners again. His sermon is directed by the other clergymen, a subtle admission of his own misdeeds as he guides the flock away from the sins of lust, of worldly pleasures that would steer them away from the right path.

Amidst the men and women crowding the pews sits a new face. She wears a hat, looking uncertain and skittish as a bunny amidst a pack of starved hounds beneath its curved brim. Her coat is tugged tightly around her where her hands grip to keep it closed and snug. No one is out to get her, not here, but there’s a purplish bruise on her neck. A sad stare trails up to meet his gaze when he stammers through the words of scripture.

Then, she smiles and his heart only feels full.

The sermon ends clumsily enough, but she waits for him in the center pew. He ensures the others have cleared out before he takes rigid steps toward her, where he sits a foot or so away on the bench; the feigned friendliness is only a front for the rapid beating of his heart and the way the blush upon his face paints up to his ears.

“I waited to walk with you… like you promised we would,” she says in place of a greeting. There’s no chiding in her tone, just curiosity. Gentle, like she’s speaking to a wounded bird, and perhaps that’s what he’s become: some big, ugly vulture. Holy in its love of everything from the sky to the rot down below.

“I’m sorry. I..,” he laments, grasping for an explanation that does not come.

“No, I understand. It’s alright, König.”

He knows he doesn’t deserve the gift of her redemption with how easily he turned away from her, from the blooming of… something. It was best not to use that word anymore.

“I just didn’t want to wait any longer. I missed you,” she huffs when the silence extends between them, breaks up the tension in the air but not what creeps over her own shoulders.

“Your bruise..” He wants to tell her of his sleepless nights, of how he pictures her in place of any old deity upon a throne in heaven, but settles for where his eyes linger on her neck.

No explanation is provided, but she lets him bring his fingers to it, ghost over where the purple melds to yellow in the shape of thick fingerprints. Add wrath to the ever growing list of his sins, because it’s all he feels amidst the envy and love.

His fingers dig into the plain back trousers when they rest upon his lap again, something foreign buzzes beneath his skin. The thought that any man would be brazen enough to lay hands upon his very own angel.. It’s unbelievable, unforgivable. His thoughts spiral so quickly it’s frightening. Timid things can become vicious, too, when backed into corners.

She manages to keep this growing storm in check when she stands and smooths her skirt, and offers to tidy up the church in an act of ‘repentance’.

The chores are simple and the sisters that linger far past service seem grateful to have her here as she takes up the broom and sweeps away at the dusty floor. They chatter away with her, take her hat and rest their hands over her shoulders when the cleaning winds to an end. His angel closes her eyes in prayer, doesn’t so much as open them to send him a knowing glance when they pray for her to find a good husband, someone who deserves such a lovely, godly woman.

She shares a meal with them while König keeps to himself with scripture in hand, mindlessly roving over the words even when his thoughts drift to the night of their first kiss.

He reasons that it’s only natural when she gives him such a display of acceptance too. It only solidifies what he knows already: this woman is no succubus— she has not crawled from the depths of Hell to drag him back with her, she’s only heavensent. An angel with a broken wing or a gaping wound somewhere… something to care for.

She’s encouraged to return by several fond voices. A few of the women even offer to walk her home, the daylight is dying and it’s dangerous for a lone lady out at night. The angel smiles at him then, sharing in the knowledge that she prefers the dark. Not the wicked things, but the peace and the beauty of the moon.

And she returns when he abstains from her.

She confides in him after each sermon that she does long to see him more often, but she likes the way he speaks of Mary Magdalene and the other women in scripture, pokes fun at the lilt to his voice when he notices her amidst the crowd of others. She says she likes him a lot before they part ways in the evenings, but she doesn’t tempt him with pouts or trailing fingers.

He thanks her for respecting his faith each time - despite being the one who crossed several boundaries initially. Though he keeps his hands to himself now, the looks he gives to her are pleading and soft. If she would pull him into a kiss now, he would let her have all of him. They could run away together, from the church, from her clients…

It’s on one of those cloudy Sundays that he does ask her if she’s stopped. He braves the look she gives him when his question comes as a hushed stutter. The comfort between them no longer feels tentative. It’s just there. Ever-present as the sky above.

“Well, you haven’t,” she whispers in response, propping her elbow up on the back of the pew. It’s as if she believes it could be so simple, but it’s not. Not for either of them.

The spiels of Heaven and Hell won’t reach her, so he doesn’t bother with those. She offers him an invitation with her words and the way she remains so open that it’s difficult not to take.

It’s been months since he touched her last and the love has only seemed to have grown. Strange. Perhaps he is as odd as she’s imagined him to be. There have been weddings in this very church, talks of long years of courtship, and even then what those men must have felt for their brides had to have paled in comparison to this. It had to.

“Tell me how to,” he breathes without any underlying thought. Saints don’t question their gods, they only serve them.

“You’re actually considering it…?”

“I might.”

The silence crowds around the bench while her fingers brush over the pages of a hymnal in repetition and his only inch closer to her clothed knee.

“You could meet me at the cemetery tonight… We could talk more there.”

“At night is probably not the best time.”

“Well, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends don’t kiss. Friends don’t feel the way he feels now, or how he’s felt for the past few months. Platonic arrangements don’t require repentance. But, he bites his tongue and tilts his head back, lets it roll off the shoulder when his hand draws back to his lap. Another time.

Not where the Heavenly Father could see, if he were even watching any longer.

“… Tomorrow morning would be better.”

“Then I’ll come get you. Don’t you dare try and get out of it,” she chirps with the wildest glint of mirth alight in her eyes.

Stay.

If the church caught fire now and the rafters came to sink into the earth not a part of him would or could even care as long as she were just here. But he watches her go without a word of opposition, watches her nod toward the sisters standing out in the yard and clasp her hands in front of her, smiling to herself as though the world were made for just the two of them.

It stings during nightly prayer, and it burns when he lies in bed to wait for the morning. There are cicadas singing and footsteps on old wooden boards to remind him that he isn’t entirely alone, the scent of tobacco drifting from his window when another plaster saint hides beyond the veil of night to smoke. He doesn’t sleep, his eyes remain fixed upon the ceiling until the darkness of the room drifts to a dull gray with the sun’s slow rise.

And König does not wait for her to fetch him. Morning prayer dissolves into a mournful cry because there is no part of him that can fathom or interpret any of this. A trial should not feel like a blessing when he’s faced with it. God must be playing the stupidest game imaginable to test him with someone so lovable, so charming. Where the church leaves him feeling filthy with remorse, she purifies him with only a curl of her lips and starlight dancing in her eyes.

None of it is fair.

The guilt must be something obligatory, summoned up like puffs of dust from the floorboards. Worshiping idols is a sin, but it’s not the angel that feels like one, it’s the attention he pays to the cloud in his head that does. That’s the one that should go.

He grits through prayer with the other men, doesn’t chime in with unnecessary words of devotion this time. The coffee burns his tongue when he downs the mug and forgoes breakfast. There are dark rings beneath his eyes when he ventured to the washroom to brush his teeth, and there are whispers in the halls that the young priest must be either coming under a possession or God is preparing him for something. Something big and exciting. He ignores those and the stern glances from the little nuns in their robes, huffs something of a joke about a momentary sabbatical when he lumbers out of the walls of the church.

There are no new bruises this time, but König has the memory of the last ones stuck in his skull. A clear image of four small marks on the side of her neck, another on its opposite. Larger, more pronounced. Five marks from a hand that never belonged there. Kerosene and a match are what the thoughts running rampant in his head would look like to an outsider.

She tells him on the thin picnic blanket that she’s got a new client, that he gives her enough to where she doesn’t have to consider any others now. The man has a much stranger set of interests, ones she hadn’t delved into before him, but she’s merciful enough to withhold the details that would lead König to make the crucifixion seem a gentle affair.

She tells him because she wants him to be proud that it’s only one now. That she’s making some sort of progress for him. None of it is fair, and he knows without asking that she feels more akin to the way that he does than any of the holy men.

And still he can’t help but ask, “Do you love him?”

“Of course not,” comes her immediate response, and there’s a near imperceptible glare there, judging by the fire in her eyes. It’s cute… and he feels the world's ugliest fool for daring to ask for reassurance as though this relationship was any sort of normal. If it were even a relationship at all.

Their hands touch, reaching for the same flaky pastry in the basket she brought along and Heaven’s bells ring out in his ears when her gaze sweeps over him. Everything is sugared dough and right again. She offers him her lap in place of a pillow for his head when the clouds grow thick and gray above, feeds him from her own hand and runs her fingers across his face with the other.

“How did you get the sky in your eyes?,” she asks him, makes him blush so easily his heart stutters within his chest. He feels like a boy in her presence, and in a way, to her, maybe he even is just some inexperienced whelp nipping at her heels.

The angel does not judge, she softly rakes her nails behind his ear and neck until he shivers in her hold. His hair is next, a victim to her comfort as she tousles it between her fingers, strokes him like the smallest of kittens when he feels anything but.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he mutters, raising a hand to brush at her cheek. Warm as he expected, yet softer. There’s nothing wicked here, only a woman. A woman who loves him as he loves her.

“Your eyes are pretty… sad. I love them,” comes the sweet reply that reduces him to nothing but scattered feathers and a howling ache.

Did he even exist before now? Before her? This woman has filled him with such purpose, breathed new life into a stagnant soul. The church was a safe place for a man scorned by the rest of the world, but that blanket felt unnecessary now. He wanted to feel her hands move over him like this, smell the petals in her perfume, hear her voice speak to him, all of it. Forever.

“I think that I lose myself when I’m with you.”

“Does that hurt you?”

“Nein… I’m happier like this.” It’s the closest to a confession he can whisper.

And he returns to her, morning after morning König rushes through paying his dues to God and his men to return to her like this.

When the graveyard is silent and the dew still sticks to the blades of grass, her voice sounds sweeter somehow beneath the glow of the rising sun. The birds sing around them and often she pushes wildflowers into his hair, clasps her hands around his neck and teaches him to kiss.

Her tongue moves with grace, his is only a thing of greed. Each chaste peck is met with a hunger from somewhere so foggy and forgotten it never had a home at all, not before now. The angel needn’t show him where to rest his hands, they pry at every part of her: gentle brushes against her cheek and neck, kneading at her shoulders, further, further until he does finally starve off any lingering thought of what is good or evil to explore the curve of her lower back.

Most of the time words come in afterthought, once lips are wet and plush from this gentle devouring, after she steels herself from running her hands any further down than his stomach. He tells her in truth that he prays to her, not for. Not anymore.

The shadows cast from the aspens keep them tucked far away from sight, from God and his people alike. A temple for two without four walls to close them in. The only place on this earth that he’s ever found himself in perfect solace.

“I want to try something,” she breathes just when he’s prepared himself to leave. The tree at his back, knees parted, where she remains sat across from him. There’s nervousness there, not the fretful way she looks after a long night, nor the way she looked to him upon their first meetings. “Do you trust me?”

“Ja… more than anyone,” he reassures in a soft tone of voice, tipping her chin up with the tips of two fingers to further accentuate it. Her beauty and her uncertainty always strike a chord within him, a fire that never dwindles. When her eyes search his own, his breath catches.

He doesn’t say a word when she peels away the robes from the front of his trousers. Her hands linger on at the waistband for a moment, takes enough time to offer the gentlest peck to the side of his neck before continuing. It’s another first, being exposed to a woman like this when she lowers the band and has him shimmy backward to free his cock from his pants. Soft with shame or embarrassment, a concoction of other things he could not name, but the moment she looks up at him with pure delight he feels himself grow stiff.

“Wow… You’ve got a perfect cock,” she assesses with a laugh, finger running up the length of it as it twitches to life under her touch.

Scheisse.

He strokes her cheek with reverence as she bends down before him, watching him carefully through her eyelashes. Her warm breath drifts over his manhood and he’s already horribly aware that this would not last long. Another lesson, like the kisses, maybe. She could mold him any way that she likes and he would be pleased to play the role of her Adam.

The tongue isn’t what he anticipated. She flattens it against the tip, breathes a laugh when a keening whine is pulled from his throat. To see such an ugly, vulgar thing pressed to the beautiful mouth he’s kissed a dozen times now. It feels wrong. There’s no hesitation when her lips wrap around him. And then all of it— everything is just right. Every moment spent in this hazy, loving glow with her is right. If Hell were to come from this, then let it.

He can’t tear his eyes away from her, can’t bring himself to speak when he feels the way his cock hits the back of her throat, feels her swallow around him and make such a pleased noise as she wraps her fingers around the expanse she can not take.

Its pitiful, the way he must look: mouth agape, eyes lidded and heavy… He brings a hand to her hair, and runs his fingers through it as if she isn’t letting him fuck her mouth, but rather in the midst of something far holier, softer. Sacrilegious or divine. If God we’re watching, let him.

She pulls back a little, an obscene, wet sound in answer when her mouth is drawn back enough to merely press a kiss the tip, puffy lips glossy with drool. “Is this okay…? Not too much?”

“You are so pretty… it feels… just keep going.” His voice no longer possesses any feigned confidence, it begs like a wounded thing, chanting, “Bitte. Please…”

His hips tilt up when she parts her lips again, all trepidation be damned. This is something, something he’s aches for and never had the chance to feel. All of the ache, the longing to be diminished, to unite with the angel who fled Heaven for him. The cock pushes at her open mouth, smears thick beads of precum over her cheek, before she takes him in again with a delighted, muffled sound. Her soft mouth, the tongue that thoroughly laps at his shaft and follows her movements to wrap and suck at the head. Otherworldly, and… unfathomably bittersweet.

Her lips suction around him, the movements of her wrist only increasing, and with the second roll of his hips he feels his stomach begin to tense as pure heat rolls its way through him. A gentle coursing becomes a blinding inferno in mere seconds, and regrettably, instinctively, that hand so gently combing through her hair comes to snare it instead and force her down further.

His soft grunts and low pleading morph to something choked and almost agonized. It’s the purest rapture, a pleasure so absolute his eyes prick as he bows lower to cover over her as she swallows his devotion by mouth. The angel pants breathlessly when she pulls away with saliva and semen still stringing them together, cleansed by his thumb tracing over her lips, replaced so swiftly by his own mouth. The kiss is so chaste it feels misplaced here, but she nuzzles against him in this comedown from ecstasy, doesn’t even chastise how he lasted a mere two minutes.

And he vows, vows in the sweetness of her comfort and love that no one else will ever have this again.

— — —

Abstaining from meals during a fast is a struggle in and of itself; abstaining from her is some long-forgotten circle of Hell.

It’s not avoidance, but a necessity.

To think that his first sexual encounter would provoke days of concern, a wistful daydream about a future he never would have thought to have had otherwise. There was a desperate, starving desire to repent when he first arrived home after that, but nothing that a bottle of communion wine and a cold shower could not wash away. Repentance has lost its merit to him.

And after seven days, he’s perfectly aware of what he must do. To absolve them both from things where atonement seems far from a necessity at all. He folds his holy robes and leaves them on the bed in the room too small, set neatly next to his Bible. The rosary was the one thing that König could not bear to part with. The beads, red and shimmery, were chosen and strung together with him in mind. It’s slipped into the pocket of his jeans after the plain, black t-shirt is pulled over his head.

There’s a hammer in his gloved hand, and he doesn’t recall where he found it. Lying with its head rusted in the churchyard, perhaps half buried beneath the soil. Some of the other clergymen are talented at fixing things, but König’s never been very good with that. His first rosary was broken with a careless slip of his fingers, and he’s shattered more porcelain than he could count on accident.

Even communion wine can be a bit too strong, sometimes. Or maybe that’s only when the bottle’s been entirely downed. He’ll blame one of his betters when the stock is counted and one turns up missing, if they bother to come seek him out again at all.

The motel is dead at this hour, so late into the night. The few normal visitors have already been accounted for with watchful eyes, and the angel waits in one of the rooms on the second floor. He imagines the laces on her lingerie, the healing bruises on her throat, and that sweet expression upon her face. Or maybe that one was reserved solely for him. He prayed… no, he hoped so.

After tonight, there would be no more mercies for him. Or perhaps there would be an abundance, blessings from the vultures and the wolves and the maggots he would feed. New gods that were still far lesser than the angel who suffers men in sheets, but only looks to him with love.

And he doesn’t have to wait long, because the demon finds his way here with haste. Does he come here every night looking as proud as he does now? His attire even resonates with death, black with those white details, a costume that seems so fitting for one about to meet the very face he wears.

Killing someone isn’t so easy. Cain murdered his brother with a rock, described in such loose detail that one would think a playful throw led to Abel’s end. But it’s not so, not when the victim is hellbent on living.

The demon is smaller, but strong. He’s been in situations like this before, doesn’t have to spit the words to tell König so. They’re felt with each blow, with the sharp edge of the knife this bastard manages to dig into his side. Just barely, before it’s jerked out of his hand and thrown several paces away. The skittering across the tarmac is enough to chant doom.

There’s blood. More with the first strike of the hammer. It seemed so much easier in thought rather than practice. In his imaginings, the head would split with the first fall like an overripe apple, crumple in and the breath would leave the demon in an instant. Instead, it’s dozens. Blow after blow while the smaller man struggles below him.

A strange catharsis comes over him when his soul grows murky, when his hands are slick and the struggle comes to an abrupt end. The sobering only comes when he’s spent an hour driving down the most forested roads to find a place to dump the body. There’s no tact to it, laying a man to rest in shrubbery and dirt. With a head so collapsed it’s hard to think of this as a man at all. A corpse, something no longer simply human.

König does not pray for him when he rests the hammer in the deceased’s hands. Does not offer it more than a passing thought when he peels away back toward home. The deed is done and he’s free of those horrid burdens tainting his heart, keeping him held back on a short leash to divinity.

Like fate, she’s found out in the garden again after the bloodied shirt and stained gloves are discarded. The wound is patched with what he could find available, a hastily tied strip of gauze covers his side. A week or so at best until the gash would heal into an ugly, jagged scar. It seemed even a bastard devil’s blade couldn't be sharp enough to fell a Goliath when he’s caught by surprise and horny.

He feigns merely emptying the garbage into an outside bin, plays off the sting of the gash with a humble, lumbering gait. She beams up at him through lines of tears running down the sides of her face like small, silver streams beneath the darkened sky above.

He’s not a saint anymore, no… a guardian angel. The archangel Michael with his sword set ablaze and divinity scrawled into every scale of his chest plate. Something holy and glowing, unsullied and beautiful.

Like her.

“You’re crying…”

“Sorry… bad night. Client just ghosted me.”

No. This was good, couldn’t she see that? All the sleepless nights, the prayer and the constant, overwhelming longing. Everything he had suffered for her, and still she only comes to him with the thought of that horrible thing in mind.

“He’s dead.” Maybe it was just the fear of a loss of money. He had enough saved up someplace, and the collection pool would be beneficial enough to pivot them towards a new life. No church. No lonely motel. He had to test it, give her a trial and hope that she did not simply break.

The look that crosses her face is one of confusion… Then comes a strange twist of relief. Her mouth falls slightly agape and her arms squeeze slightly around his middle.

“We just spoke a few hours ago. How…?” Finally, suspicion.

Maybe he’s too drunk on playing God now to care, to realize this isn’t how a good man would have handled things. The only thing that holds any weight, that resonated with him any at all is the thought that he loves her, that he will protect her until his dying breath, pray at her feet and anything else she might ask.

That’s what pulls him to press her down against the bed of the truck, to kiss her with every lesson she’s blessed him with in mind. Tongue and teeth, fire and spit, she accepts all of it. She doesn’t beg him for an answer: she’s seen the worst of men, taken cocks far less deserving. Her hands find his hair as they drift away here, gives the strands a sharp tug to usher him closer, roll her tongue against his own.

The sheer tights she wears beneath her skirt are ripped at the seam between her legs by large hands, panties pushed to the side before she finally presses against the broad chest against her to gain some space. Her breath is shallow, face warmed and hair a mess, still the loveliest thing he’s ever laid his eyes upon.

“Are you afraid?” He tilts his head to the side, curious, as if there were no reason for her deny him of this now after he had just *killed for her*. After he forsook what once was all he knew all for her. He would do it again without question, with no gain at all, but the sting of rejection was not something he could entirely choke back.

But his angel never runs out of mercies, it seems.

“No… just give me a second.”

She slips her hand down between her parted legs, demonstrates for him just how to prepare a woman. He watches, mesmerized, as she circles the bud above her slit, dips her finger downward to spread wetness along her flesh. Dew over petals. A finger slips inside of her, and all at once is shoved aside.

“Let me,” he pleads, already pressing both hands to her inner thighs, tilting her hips upward as his head sinks between them.

“You don’t have to,” she whispers, but grants him his wish with feverish nods that betray her words, allows him to kiss her sex as he shifts himself into a better position.

There’s nothing to go off of but her sounds, the cries of pleasure when his tongue lolls out to lick at the nub where most of her reactions stem from. He mutters against her about her taste, something so ethereal he could not even begin to place. Her scent envelopes him in full, and he’s never felt closer to anything prior. She allows his clumsy licking, moans louder for him when he can’t stifle his own groaning. The pants are too tight around him, and patience is another virtue he finds that he lacks.

She doesn’t reach some fantastical height of pleasure when he presses a finger into her cunt, but her body seems to fit even that like a glove, squeezing around him as he lazily circles her bud with his tongue. She doesn’t come, but she tugs him by the hair to usher him back into another kiss, hands roving down his abdomen to free his manhood from the barriers of fabric. And finally… finally he’s granted entrance to Heaven.

The first thrust leaves him spiraling, lost into a world of silk and honey. And the angel does not give him any time to recover, she writhes beneath him, shifting her hips to pull him in deeper, muffles each whine and groan from his lips with her tongue hungrily lapping over his own.

He’s thought about having a woman many times, but never imagined it could feel this good. To be so complete, every woe or fear cast aside in the act of mindless pleasure.

He doesn’t know where to put his hands, to keep his eyes shut or gaze down at her and cease this assault on his mouth to tell her that he loves her, that she feels like pure fucking paradise and he’s already on the verge of coming undone. He settles for moving, dragging himself in and out of her in slow movements, turning his face away to bite down on her shoulder when the feeling of her walls cinching him like a vise threatens to spur him into finishing on the spot.

“That’s just… god… you’re good at this,” she gasps when a hand is sunk between their bodies, flicking at her clit as he spears her open. Her hands find his back, raking her fingernails down past his shoulder blades. It’s agonizing, trying to fight back the urge to breed her full, watch his come spill out from her perfect cunt until he finds himself hard again. The very thought makes him gasp, grind himself deeper inside of her as her nails dig into his back.

“Mein… this is… you understand…,” he’s babbling, hardly coherent, and she only seems to accept it. The angel chants her agreement amidst the beginning of her rapture.

She cries out for him when she comes, her sex pulsing around him as she shivers that all restraint is immediately lost. She hugs him so tightly, squirms as she hisses a curse into his ear.

It’s a miracle he’s even lasted this long. He halts his pace for a mere second to prop himself up, gaze down at her in absolute reverence before that fire swallows him whole. It’s unceremonious when he comes: a growl and a wail as he buries he face into her neck and pumps every last drop of his seed into her pussy.

He doesn’t want to pull out, doesn’t want to leave such a complete embrace. The world has already ended for him, a long time ago on the very night they met. There’s no need to drag out their ruin with whatever else occurs when she’s out of his grasp.

She strokes over the marks she’s made, gentle, tickling touches of her fingertips and shy giggles when their eyes meet again.

“I thought I would never get to do this with you,” she admits, quiet when her hands drift to cup his jaw instead. “You’re perfect, you know that…?”

He wants to cry, wants to fuck all of his woes away, kneel before her and beg that she find a place where they can never be apart. Steal her away to some cabin up in the Alps, where flowers grow in thick patches on the hillsides, a wild garden of her very own.

“… You should stay with me,” he huffs into her ear, fingers dimpling the flesh of her hips as he tries desperately to force himself closer to her.

“You can’t mean the church,” she giggles. “So where should we go?”

“We can figure that out in the morning, hm?”

#könig x reader #konig x reader

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daisies-daydreams · 7 months

Note

High stamina König x insatiable fem reader? Would love a drabble of this one!

Pairing: König x F!Reader

Category: Pure Smut (18+)

Warnings: Unprotected P in V (You Know the Drill), Creampies, Overstimulation, Clit Play, Missionary, Doggy Style, Breeding Kink, Swearing

Word Count: 500+

A/N: You have no idea how much fun I had writing this one. 🤭😏 I hope you enjoy!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You were a panting, moaning mess, a string of drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth as your lover pistoned his girthy shaft inside your tight cunt. Your bodies were soaked with sweat, the sheets completely drenched in your spit, sweat, and cum. The headboard of the bed clacked against the wall as he gripped your bruised waist.

“I love how well you take my cock, Hase,” König hissed between gritted teeth as he sank his dick into your fluttering pussy. The sounds were downright pornographic, each thrust of his hips drawing a loud, wet squelch from your cum-stuffed sex. “My little fuck bunny, ja?” he moaned into your ear as he plunged his cock deep inside your gummy canal, his cum from his previous releases spilling out and soaking the sheets below. You shivered as he swiped his warm, wet tongue across You whined when he slowed, the tip of his heavy cock flush against your cervix.

“Say it, say you’re my little fuck bunny,” König growled as he pressed the pad of his thick thumb against your tender button. You arched your spine as he rubbed circles around your puffy bundle of nerves, your legs trembling at his sides as you mewled.

“I-I’m your little fuck bunny!” you cried out as you squeezed his dick. König flashed you a wide smirk before suddenly snapping his hips forward, your jaw going slack as he rammed his cock against your cervix.

“Yes-oh, you’re such a good girl,” the Austrian’s breath hitched as his length twitched inside. He released a deep, guttural groan as his fifth load filled you to the brim, his cum bubbling and dripping between your flushed bodies.

“K-König!” you screamed as you dug your nails into his back, your hips snapping forward to meet his. You shivered as another wave of pleasure crashes over you, your bliss so intoxicating you swore you were about to faint.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he grunted as he shallowly thrusted his cock a few more times. You whimpered as it began to soften inside your stretched out cunt. König tilted his head as you ground down on his dick, desperately trying to spear yourself.

“Another round? Already?” he clicked his tongue as his eyes glowed with a primal hunger…a silent need:

Fill. Fill. Fill.

You nodded, soft moans and babbles falling from your swollen lips as his girth stroked your walls. König sighed as he rubbed his palms over your hips before suddenly flipping you over onto your stomach, his cock still plugged inside your wet heat. Your heart raced as you clutched the bedsheets when he leaned over you, his front pressing against your back.

“Well, if you’re going to fuck like a bunny, I might as well breed you like one,” König husked.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999

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kinky-thirsty-reader · 9 months

Note

I love all your Konig artwork! Any chance we can get one of Konig in the barracks, laying down on his bed and on his phone and texting his lover? I was thinking maybe he won’t have his mask on, but his face is half hidden by his long hair. ;) Even if you don’t do this request, I just want you to know I love that you draw Konig and help us fangirls and fanfic writers some inspiration!

~♡~♡~König texting-videoCalling darling~♡~♡~

❤️❤️❤️Thank uuuu 🥰🥰🥰

König will always be my baby 🤣🤣 so when I read your request I just couldn't contain myself, I know it's not the style that I usually do but I wanna try new things more efficient and quick, and I keep seeing this wonderful artist doing this types of like cute storyboards that I just have to try🥰 .

And sry but I really wanted to make a version with the hood❤️

please if you still want me to make a complete one like the rest of my artworks you can choose one of the positions on the photo and I'll put it back on the list to render or if you prefer a new position you can tell me too and then it'll be a surprise 🤫☺️ I would love to draw him again!❤️❤️

It's just that sometimes my mind gets full of ideas and I dont know wich one to pick T.T

P.S.: I suddenly had a realization that maybe I try to draw him with more 🎂 than he already has, guess I'm no better than those nasty little manga writers 😪🤣

Either way hope you like it🥰🥰☺️

#könig #cod mw2 #fanart #könig modern warfare #konig fanart #könig x reader #modern warefare ii #konig mw2 #cod konig

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cheezbites · 8 months

Text

Dating König

✎: My third blog already!!! (Thank you all so much for the previous notes on my Chris McLean blog LMAO)

♡Summary: Wholesome head cannons of dating König💕!!!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Bf!König dreaded shopping; but when it came to shopping with you? He’s down. He'd show he valued spending time together - being with you felt like a melody of heartbeats, each beat echoing his love. And since taking your sweet time, inspecting every cute item you saw, König would be exhausted after hours of consecutive shopping.

And still, he would do it all with a smile to make you smile. The worth-it part of it all to him was the astonishing Haul's he received after. From you trying on short skin-tight dresses, to matching onesies... He truly enjoyed it all, mostly for you. Aside from his complete oblivion to fashion or anything of that sort - he'd pretend for you.

Bf!König would reserve a table for you both at a nostalgic fast-food joint. When your meals were served to you - You could distinctly remember him asking for no pickles on his burger, yet they ended up being there.

"It's fine, I'll just take them out." He tried to reason with you because he knew how far you were willing to go over this for him; even if it was as minor as being over a pickle. You were a

"Excuse me, he asked for no pickles." Girlfriend, he was the reserved boyfriend who would awkwardly watch. At least you got a refund and a newly made burger for him. (He low-key loves it when you stand up for him, though).

Bf!König adored it when you cooked for him, he loved your meals and appreciated the time you spent making them. They were his happy place, he was a 'love goes through the stomach' kind of guy. "Danke, meine Liebe, du behandelst mich so gut." (Thank you, my love, you treat me so well.)

So you often teach König how to bake, cook, stir fry... all the basics. Most of your inside jokes were born from your failures, especially baking. You guys baked cookies this one time, they had increased in size tenfold. It was a giant cookie circle to put it simply. Every time you baked cookies, the 'Cookie Monster' joke would be repeated countless times.

Bf!König couldn't stand long separations, so you swapped pieces of clothing to keep each other's scents close. You wore his shirt (which looked like a baggy short dress on your figure), and you gave him a custom-made black bracelet and hair ties. As well as an oversized hoodie that looked normal on him.

Bf!König wasn't a morning person, at all. He would still routinely send you good morning texts that made you smile from ear to ear every time you received them.

"Guten Morgen, mein Liebling. Hope you slept well and dreamt of us. Sending u hugs and kisses"

"Guten Morgen, Liebling. Sending u extra ❤️ and virtual hugs to start your day off right. Ich vermisse dich"

Bf!König dealt with the spiders around the house for you, whenever he heard you unexpectedly screech, gasp, or gush "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." He knew what he had to do.

"See? They're harmless." He quipped as he guided them outside with the plate and glass combo.

"No, it was about to kill me! What if it bit me," you mindlessly blurted whilst rushing back and forth.

"Then you'd be Spider Woman, no? You'd fit perfectly being a badass superhero."

Bf!König shared a secret stash of snacks that you hide from everyone else and enjoy together during movie nights. When you fell asleep mid-movie, he carried you back to your room bridal style without disturbing you.

"Good night, meine Leibe." He silently muttered before gently planting a kiss on your head.

Bf!König Was perplexed whenever you held up two obscurely different eye shadows up to him, and asked him which one he preferred. To him, they appeared identical. But for you, one was a vibrant lavender, a touch too saturated, while the other, was a soft violet, more versatile for various outfits.

"Aren't they ... the same colour?"

"Excuse moi?!"

Bf!König Let you do his skincare. Though skincare was another thing he was completely oblivious to, he mildly enjoyed it. All he did was rinse his face with tap water, apply lotion and called it a night. On the other hand, your routine was the definition of intricate. And so before movie night, you used cleanser, face masks, serums, moisturisers and all that good stuff on him.

PART TWO IS OUT !!

Enjoyed this blog? Then…

Read the Ghost version here!

(Or the Price version <3)

Soap Version

Gaz Version

Masterlist

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callofdudes · 1 year

Note

Hello! I hope you've had a good (of night if your nocturnal like me) Haven't been feeling too well this past week, so I would really appreciate if you could write a poly! fic (or plantonic, whatever your more comfortable with) where reader who is known for not being mentally sound has been really out of it the entire week, sends the 141 + könig a text saying "thanks for everything, I love you all. " and everyone panics, rushing to readers room and könig and ghost have to Fucking BREAK down the locked door, and find reader lying in a pool of their own blood from all the cuts they made on their body. Past cuts have been reopened, and reader is in critical conditionof this ask makes you uncomfortable I totally undsrstand, have a good day/night

As someone who has struggled with this stuff, you are loved here, and you are not alone ❤️ if you can't seem to find comfort around you, I promise you have a safe space to talk here. And please reach out to the right help.

Thank you @g4y-gr3ml1n for the request. I hope you are satisfied.

CW: Attempted suicide, cutting, hurt with comfort

How long have you been feeling like this? What time was it? You look up at the clock, another two hours until lunch, just great.

You looked back down at your paperwork, too uncomfortable to stop yourself from scratching at the healing scars on your arms. You'd promised yourself to try and stop, you were really trying. You'd started calling them scars from missions to try and cope. But nothing ever worked.

Your knee bounces rapidly, hitting the underside of your desk with a light thump, thump.

The look of the paperwork in front of you was no different. Why were you feeling off. You weren't supposed to be like this anymore.

You finally stopped scratching and stood up from your desk. You just needed a break. You walk out of your office and down the hallway. It wasn't long before you ran into Johnny and his bright sunny smile.

"Hey y/n, what's turning the cogs up there today??"

It was an innocent question but it felt hard to answer. You suddenly don't feel like talking. You hang your head and slowly slip past him. "Mm sorry Johnny." you mutter on the way.

Johnny turns, watching you as you go, his eyebrow raising. Maybe something happened?? He hadn't seen you all day.

Each step you take down the hallway feels like a dark void. Each footsteps sinking you further and further into darkness. The empty hallway doesn't help at all to break the silence and overcome your thoughts as you walk. You flip up your sleeve and find the fresh cuts, already starting to prickle with blood from irritation, and you start to scratch.

Your nails dig into the cuts and tear open the flesh. Ripping away new skin and chalking blood all over your fingers.

The thoughts were back, you'd warded them away but they returned.

"Useless human being, Incapable,ugly, annoying, a failure." It all swam around in your head and before long you were faced with your bedroom door.

You push it open and slam it shut. You let a sob tear from your throat in the comfort of your room. The cold, dark room that gave little comfort anymore. It felt like a routine getting up and going to bed. Breathing seems to be the only thing you are good at anymore.

You hold yourself, huddled in a ball against your door as you cry. Painful tears wash over you. And all the pain you'd tried to push down comes with it. Every memory, every ache and every pain. You can't help wanting to scream until your lungs give out, and yet you can't.

You bang your head back against your door. What's wrong with me?? What's wrong with me?? There is nothing wrong with you, that's what everyone around you tells you. But you know they're wrong.

You cry into your hands, your eyes stinging up in pain. Finally having the strength to move you stumble to the bedroom mirror and look at yourself. You can't see what they see, the loving, caring person they all say you are.

And instinctively you start to dig in your drawers. You yank them all open, sadness, fear, and pain boiling up in your stomach and in your head.

Take a deep breath, sleep it off, you'll be ok.

Find Simon! Find Simon, he'll help. They'll help you. You know they will.

But that thought was too far gone. It wasn't worth the time walking around looking for solace when you had some right here.

You grabbed the handle of the blade.

Simon had gifted it to you on your birthday and you almost felt guilty that you'd never used the thing in self defense before.

You were about to press the knife to your skin when your insides flipped. Your heart pounds in your throat. You drop the blade and rush to the bathroom, feeling your breakfast rise up your throat. Through tears and acid stinging your throat, cupping the sides of the toilet as everything is let go. You feel worthless and stupid.

The bile stings and cuts off the oxygen you so desperately need. It feels like you're dying. It feels like it goes on forever.

When everything stops, your tears just come harder. Your tired body collapses to the bathroom floor in heart wrenching sobs. You wanted to break something, make something else take this endless pain.

You were done pushing it down and trying to change. You couldn't love yourself no matter how much others did for you. They could never get rid of all the hurt and the anguish that boiled inside of you.

Every "I'm fine" and "I promise" felt like a regurgitated ugly lie to keep the ones you love at bay. To keep Simon and König away. Johnny and Gaz. Even Price.

You pull yourself off the floor and come back over to your bed, feeling exhausted. Just sleep it off. Please, just try and sleep it off. It'll be ok tomorrow.

Lies, it would never go away. It never would.

Your eyes fixated on the blade on your bed, then to yourself in the mirror.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, knowing this would be it. You were done feeling like this. Feeling worthless and empty.

Your hands started to shake when you started to write. The group chat was for important stuff. This would be important to them right?? Who were you kidding? Of course it wouldn't.

You sent the text and grabbed the blade, tearing it into your skin without a second thought. The pain was like a sweet release. Blood flowing from your arm and down your wrist. It felt like an escape. A whole different reality. You tore your shirt off and started to cut, and cut, and cut…

It was a normal day, everything seemed to be going perfect for Simon. He finished up paperwork early and was on his way to find Johnny when his phone buzzed. It was either Johnny or you, he felt a smile tugs at his lips at the thought. He hadn't seen you all day, you were supposed to be loaded with work.

He pulls out his phone, seeing that it was you who had texted the group chat. He opened the message and his blood ran cold.

He stopped along the hallway, rereading the text over and over and over again. His insides tightened and his pulse spiked like he was falling out of an airplane. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak.

Another text popped up.

"Herrlich, wo bist du!?" It was from König.

Simon's hands trembled and real, raw fear pitted him in the chest. His legs felt like jello when he turned to run. "Y/N!!"

He made a break for your office and pulled the door open when he got there. Apparently König had the same idea, falling in line when Simon rushed in to find your paperwork barely touched.

Simon couldn't catch his breath. No no no, this isn't happening. This wasn't happening. His legs caved in, König rushing to grab him and hold him up. They made eye contact and they both knew if they didn't find you they would lose you.

König's voice shook. "Their room??"

Simon nods.

They run from your office, finding Gaz and Johnny along the way. There were no questions asked. Nothing said, if they didn't find you everyone would suffer.

They ran across the building to the barracks and came to your room.

"Y/n!!!"

Simon pounds on the door.

"Y/n please!!"

"Open the door please!!!"

"Oh God y/n please!! I know you're hurting but please don't do that! I promise you I'm right here!! I'm right here y/n please!!" He screams.

He's trembling so badly he can barely twist the doorknob.

He wails when he finds it locked.

Johnny tries to force it open, banging his shoulder into the door as hard as he can.

"Stand back" König steps in front of him, letting Gaz and Johnny take Simon and keep him from passing out.

König's heart is in his ears, blood rushing so fast he feels dizzy and his vision is near fuzzy. He slams into the door and kicks it on, the lock combusting with the force. And he enters the room.

His insides tighten and everything goes dark. Simon rushes into the room and sees the blood. He sees you, and the blade he'd given you.

Simon wails again, falling to your knees. He rips off his mask and takes your hand, holding it tightly in his. "Please… please…"

"Please don't go. Y/n I'm so sorry- I'm so sorry honey."

König can't move. His body is entirely frozen. Seeing you laying there in your own blood. It's dripping down the sheets and pooling all over you. You'd torn up your arms, destroyed your legs and he didn't want to think what else.

Johnny and Gaz rush in, running to your side next to Ghost.

"Stop the bleeding! We have to stop the bleeding!" Gaz can barely speak, hands trembling when he touches you, the tips of his fingers soaked in blood.

Tears filled König's eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He didn't remember the point he started falling until his head hit the ground.

Everyone was in tears, and Price was the last to show up. He'd seen the text late, and he was scared he couldn't save you.

König was having a panic attack, barely breathing and shaking like a leaf. Simon was full out wailing, holding your limp hand and begging you not to go.

Price crawls onto the bed and cups your neck gently. He kisses your forehead and cradles you in his arms.

Simon looks up at him. "Price please- they can't leave!"

Price ran his fingers through your hair and over your pressure point, feeling barely a pulse over his fingers.

"If we don't move now, I don't think we'll ever see them again."

Simon could barely stand as Price pulls you up into his arms and cradles you. "I've got you honey, don't worry, I've got you love" Price lays a blanket over you to keep you warm and concealed from other soldiers seeing you like this.

Johnny, Gaz and König leave with Price, but Simon couldn't move. Simon looks down at the blade covered in your own blood.

"I'm sorry…"

"I'm so sorry…"

"I-"

He drops the blade and hides his face. He couldn't lose another important person. Please no. He couldn't have one more person taken away from him. You couldn't leave. He didn't want you to join Tommy and the others yet.

He stays there in your room for what felt like minutes, but was all of hours.

Simon gently rocking himself back and forth.

Eventually he is able to move, barely getting to his own room.

Nobody slept that night.

Simon wasn't a believer but he begged God to spare your life. He couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you. Everyone else has been ruthlessly ripped away from him and he couldn't have it happen again. He cared so much for you.

König couldn't process it. Nightmare after nightmare. Every time he walked into that room and saw his best friend collapsed on the bed.

The others didn't sleep a wink either.

Price tried to do your paperwork for you, but he couldn't. He kept checking his phone for any notice that you were stable and doing ok after he'd delivered you to hospice.

Breakfast was quiet, for those who showed up. Gaz and Johnny didn't speak as they ate, eating half of what they usually would.

"Try and finish your food boys." Price instructed.

"I don't feel hungry." Johnny whispered.

"You need to eat, it'll make your body happy."

Johnny shook his head. "I'm sorry." He slipped away from the lunch table and didn't return.

Gaz looked down at his own plate, barely touched. He tried to finish.

When the hospital called saying you needed an urgent blood transfusion, Gaz didn't hesitate. You both matched blood types, and he didn't care how much you needed, if it would keep you alive he'd give you every organ In his body.

"This will only hurt a bit." The nurse smiled.

"If it helps y/n, any kind of pain is worth it."

"That's very kind of you, soldier."

"A needle won't hurt nearly as much as if my love doesn't wake up." He replied, deadpan and serious, not wanting to think of that outcome at all.

Two days passed. But finally, you could feel the feeling return in your fingers. Tightness around your arms, your pulse beating against the bandages like it were trying to escape out from the healing wounds.

Your eyes slowly opened, the bright white making your heart race. You weren't in heaven now, were you? For some reason it felt… long. A long wait.

And then a face was looking at you.

"Simon…?" You whispered.

His blurry face filled with relief, rough hands gently cupping your cheeks.

"Yes love, it's me. I'm right here."

You reached out your hand for him but Simon gently brought it back down. "I love you so much y/n." Tears swell in your eyes, his warm lips pressing against your own, soaking in your presence.

He was trembling when he held you, pulling away from the kiss to give you air.

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text before his attention was back on you.

"What... Happened..?"

Simon's soft eyes turn saddened. The door opens and two more figures ran in.

Gaz and Price are at your side.

You smile softly, seeing them both. "Guys..."

Gaz wasn't always known to cry, but he burst into tears seeing your smile. He kisses your forehead in relief. "Thank goodness you're ok."

"Gaz," You whisper.

"I'm right here, and the captain too. Johnny and König are on their way."

Gas moves away so Price can see you and he cups your hands tightly. "I'm sorry we weren't there for you in a time of need."

Everything slowly comes back and you start to cry, nodding while he holds you. "But we love you so much hon. And you can always come and talk to us. Please don't bottle it up because we care. We care so much for you hon."

You sob when the others enter, embracing the loving kiss Price presses to your cheek.

Johnny's hands are all over you, whispering love in your ear when he comes to your bedside. Something about it makes you feel so loved in the moment. So utterly loved. More tears fall. Johnny kisses them away. Peppering soft kisses along your jaw and over your cheeks. He presses another kiss to your lips and embraces your scent. The way your lips feel against his.

He finally pulls away, tears in his own eyes. "We love you so so much."

König is next, nearly picking you up out of your bed and engulfing you in his arms. He nuzzles against your warmth, his heart racing out of his chest.

You quiver, holding him back. That's when you see the bandages on your arms. You're still in pain, but you hug him back.

"I love you guys too."

"I just.... Couldn't take it."

"Please talk to us then," Simon placed his hand on your shoulder. "We will always be here for you. Ok?"

You nod, more tears flowing down your cheeks.

"We all love you y/n. We love you so much." Price's soft voice came as you were laid back down on the hospital bed. They stayed with you, comforting you with their presence until you were drifting back asleep. The sound of their voices sending you into peace.

You are loved. So so incredibly loved. And even when the world feels dark, the people who will hug you and listen to you are closer than they appear.

Sometimes it's scary to reach out for help, but the ones who truly love you will never let you fall once they catch you.

Loved ones, help lines, even someone over the internet may make it better, helping you to triumph over these things.

And I know it feels dark, but you are so loved, even when the ones who love you seem to be the furthest away.

-El

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #ghost x reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john price x reader #könig x reader #könig x y/n #konig x reader

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kneelingshadowsalome · 7 months

Note

The König being a Shoebill Stork is so funny😭😭 especially the 'solitary breeding', he will literally hole up in his cabin in the austrian woods with you and not let you out of his bed, not even really letting you off of his cock tbh :((

Not to mention that he will literally kill anyone that comes near to the cabin, no one will disturb his breeding season <3

He so will too!!!

But… What if the mating season lasts for like 3 months?!

Say, you have to be there from beginning of May to the end of June, and he expects you to cook for him too :/ Perhaps bake some pastries while he's out, patrolling his territory and getting rid of unwanted "visitors" (perhaps he even sets traps for the unwary travellers and has to go check and reset them occasionally, you of course know nothing about this morbid, camouflaged defense system surrounding the whole perimeter, you thought you're only here to mate)

When he comes back to the cabin, invigorated by the fresh mountain air, he sees you in your cute little apron, taking out a warm, delicious Apfelstrudel from the oven ❤️ Suddenly he's up for round two or three or four again, and after the first few weeks, you're really starting to get sore everywhere :(

Our man mostly uses the good old mating press and other positions where he can get the seed deep inside of you, and stays plugged in as long as he can so that it doesn't come out anytime soon. If you whine about it, he will pat you softly on your thigh or ass and coo encouraging words in your ear. You're doing so well, he knows you're going to be a wonderful mother for his kids ❤️

Other times, even König wants a little variation, and might just turn you on your stomach in the morning to start the day by enjoying your pussy from the back, grinding into you with slow but sweaty pace (because he's a lil sleepy too and the summers in the lower slopes of the Alps can be very hot). Or if you continue your whining, he may cut you some slack by using your thighs or mouth to get himself off, but he always demands that you put it in just before he cums so that the precious seed won't go to waste. That is why you are here, no? This is not just for his pleasure, you know.

Your neck is full of love bites, and your tits are getting far too much love too, because König doesn't always remember to shave when out here in the wild with you, so your nipples get sore from his stubble and tongue and constant little nibs and bites. He's already imagining how much larger your breasts will be when he gets you pregnant... And when you fuss in the kitchen or bend over to check if the pastries are turning nice golden crisp, he gives you a little smack on the butt and only laughs when you pout back at him :((

#this sounds a bit like #yandere könig #or ranger!König?#he's so annoying when he's in mating mode #breeding kink in the cabin #mating season #könig x reader #könig fluff #könig smut

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Note

Just hear me out,

Wild west outlaw König.

That's all ,please and thank you❤️

P.s I love love love your work and you inspire me so much more than words can express,so thank you so much

Wild West Outlaw König Headcanons

Warnings: Outlaw König, König Kills People, Obsessive König, König (DEEP) in Love, Looting, Kidnapping, Implied Smut, Non-Explicit Descriptions of Smut, Dominant König, Submissive König, Mention of Ghost, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You.

A/N: Thank you so much for your kind words, my lovely ! Your kind words have touched my heart, and I hope your creative endeavours flourish <3

Man owns a pair of handcuffs and KNOWS how to use them.

Let’s work on the assumption that he kidnapped you.

Perhaps you were already partially romantically involved but your family would never let you marry someone like König, so he stages a robbery and takes you as part of the ransom.

One he has no intention of accepting any payment for because he’s never letting you go.

König’s monstrous proportions make it easy for him to physically overpower aggressors – other bandits, outlaws, authority figures.

However, he does pose something of a hazard to himself because there’s (much) more of him to hit.

Luckily, he’s straight out of a situation the minute it gets sticky – as if he just disappears into thin air.

Just one of the reasons why he’s called the Phantom Outlaw.

Not to be confused with Ghost, who is also an outlaw but never leaves a trace (or a witness), making his reputation far more ghoulish than König’s.

Though, König does excel in the fear factor, his sheer size and notoriety – his trenchcoat and mask the very visage of Death – forcing everyone who sees him to relinquish their goods in exchange for their lives.

Speaking of, König’s ability to swing thousands in cash makes for a happy home life, given how he spends much of his fortune on you.

Clothes, jewels, literature, instruments, automobiles: you name it, you’ve got at least a treasure trove of each.

Even if you try to resist these gifts, König refuses to let up.

“Can’t have my precious little Engel going without, can I ?”

So, in return, you typically handle all the chores, though König insists you don’t have to.

“It’s not like we can hire a maid to do it for us, can we ?” you tell him. “Especially not when there’s a handsome bounty on that even more handsome head of yours.”

Said bounty is what makes it difficult for the two of you to stay in one place for too long.

And whenever you move, you always try to make the house a safe space for König.

Blankets in his favourite chair, his favourite meal on the table for him whenever you know he’s going to have a rough day, a bit of fun before bed, etc.

You can tell whenever he feels really comfortable, because he takes up three quarters of the bed, just sprawled out like a rapidly growing infection.

And you always fit neatly against his side. Or on his chest.

König calls you his “Little bunny” (or “Bun-Bun”) because of how small you look when you’re nuzzled into his chest.

He never takes you, or anything you do, for granted.

You don’t know this (so keep this a secret between you and I) but König watches you when you sleep. More than you’d think.

Truth be told, the outlaw life terrifies him.

Sure, he has the swagger and the notoriety to make off with thousands in gold, jewels, and lavish material items, but, really, his greatest, most prized treasure is you.

There is only one of you. You cannot be bought, or replicated, or found in the wild like an ore of purest diamond.

Simply put, König’s success is entirely down to the fact that he can’t be caught lacking.

If he ever was to, he knows he’d lose you. Whether you’re taken by a stray bullet in a shoot-out or your town’s rangers come to tear you from his cold, lifeless grip, König takes every precaution to circumvent these tragedies by remaining the fastest hand in the west. And the most ruthless.

Even for an outlaw, his kill count is exceedingly high.

And it’s no coincidence that the numbers began to climb after he met you. Fell in love with you.

People who he’s seen giving you lecherous stares, or those he can sense have poor intentions, he’s taken them out the back and absolved the world of their presence.

And, at the end of every excursion, every execution, every haul, the weight of the world falls from König’s shoulders as he comes back to you.

He takes his mask down around you, hangs his hat upon the coat rack. You’re the only person who he shows his face to.

But, whenever you can tell a fragment of the day resides pinned in his mind, shrapnel of his self-inflicted lifestyle, you make sure to service him before bed.

How he likes to be serviced can change on a day-to-day basis. He’s not fussy.

The only thing that changes is whether he wants to be handled by you or if he wants to slam you into the pillows.

Possessive sex <333.

“Tell me you love me,” he rasps into your ear, pinning you to the mattress with his body, making escape an impossibility to you. “Tell me I’m the only one that will ever have you like this,”

As stated previously; he has a pair of handcuffs and knows how to use them.

Or, if they’re too far out of reach and he needs you bound now, he’ll use rope. Or even just his hands.

Eye contact. The whole time.

It’s as if a different person inhabits him when he gets like this; something dark and jagged, no mere demon, possesses his form. And, by extension, yours.

König’s not stopping until you’re full, he’s empty, and he’s confident you’re not leaving the house for the next few days.

But, when König is feeling fragile, he lets you take the lead.

Just lies back while you’re on top of him, calling him your “Good boy”, “my Prince”, “my protector,” – anything that reaffirms that he holds a great deal of importance in your life.

More often than not, he ends up with tears in his eyes.

Nobody has ever been so gentle and loving towards him as you have. And coupled with how you’re taking him slowly, taking the time to make sure you’re hitting all bases and he’s thoroughly loved, sends him over the edge.

Kiss his tears away and his soul leaves his body.

It’s times like these that, more than anything, König wants a simple life. A paroxysmal desire to lead an ordinary existence where the two of you can live together happily, without the threat of being chased out of town every few months.

And, maybe, one day, even have a family together.

Until then, König will continue to dream, to give you a lifestyle of sapphires and gold and every delicacy the human mind can conjure.

And whenever he looks at you before he leaves, he sees his good luck charm, the light at the end of his tunnel. And, most importantly, the embodiment of love itself.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

Note

Hi, could you write headcanons about 141 + könig with a femreader who has a lichtenberg scar? 🫶🏻

That’s metal af I love it! For those who are unfamiliar this is what they look like (from what I could read online, they go away after 24-48 hours but tend to leave some tenderness behind so for the sake of the prompt, we’ll ignore that!❤️)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Goddess? Goddess. He’s got some crazy scars but they pale in comparison to the pattern on your back

Sweet lord the first time he saw it, he was in shock, mind racing a million miles a minute, his first thought being that someone did this to you and he was ready to turn the world into ashes just to find them

As soon as you explain to him that it was in fact lightning that created the scars, for the first time in his life his jaw goes slack and he is at a loss for words

His fingers run over the patterns with a feather light gentleness that no one (but you) could ever attribute to him, his cold fingers soothe the warm skin and you can’t help but close your eyes and enjoy the sensation

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He already thinks you’re otherworldly, but after seeing your scars, you’re downright ethereal

At first he thought the fern-like patterns on your arm were a tattoo, it wasn’t until he ran his fingers over it that he realized it was a scar

Like Ghost, his knee jerk reaction is to jump to the conclusion that someone hurt you and he feels awful for thinking it was a tattoo, but when you explain that it was from a lightning strike, he doesn’t believe you

“Bonnie, do you know how astronomically unlucky you have to be to get struck by lightning?” (Just show him the pictures you first took after it happened and the discharges from the ER and he’ll shut up)

His favorite thing to do is run his fingers over the patterns, especially when you’re lounging together, whether it’s on the couch or in bed, he is mesmerized

John Price:

He’s heard of them but he’s never seen them in person, at least until he met you and he saw the pattern peeking out from under your shirt

Since he’s heard of them, he’s not as surprised that it’s from lightning, he’s more shocked that it happened to you of all people

He understands that it can get sore so he’ll offer to help rub a soothing cream into the raised skin on your chest

He warms his hands before applying the lotion and he gently glides his fingers up and down the weaving patterns, his palm soothing the aching skin, his eyes unable to leave the intricate patterns on your chest, he’s in awe of you

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

Holy shit, love, he thinks you’re positively glowing, a literal goddess among men, you are an anomaly, a one in a million chance personified

Body worship? Body worship.

He is watching you as you explain it with stars in his eyes, his fingers are tracing the patterns on your leg, he is hypnotized

He’s kissing every inch, and massaging the areas his lips can’t reach, and when your scars to ache he’s right there, ready to soothe the skin with some lotion and light touches

König:

He’s heard of them but he’s never seen them in person, honestly he wrote them off as being something that happens in movies, if that

Even when he sees the pattern on your arm, he thinks it’s a tattoo and very confidently compliments it

However, when you gently tell him it’s actually a scar you got from a lightning strike, he’s back peddling like his life depends on it

Please stop him before he talks himself to death, he will not take a single breath in between his apologies what was supposed to be an innocent compliment has definitely become a core memory poor guy

His heart is pounding when you take his massive hand in your smaller one and have him run his finger over the raised skin, he’s holding his breath, he’s in complete awe of you, liebling

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hina-hina · 1 year

Note

i LOVED könig friends to lovers. maybe ghost w friends to lovers? ❤️❤️❤️

Hello friend!! Of course I can do that one for you! Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy!! (○｀ 3′○)

This came out as more of a childhood friend trope because I got a good idea for it (o′┏▽┓｀o)

This fic has a good amount about Ghost's backstory, nothing too in depth but if you don't know what I'm talking about, a good glance over his Fandom page should be find (trigger warning for content within).

This is eventually a rewrite of Ghost's backstory but with you as his childhood friend/partner. Some details have been changed and is no way accurate to his actual backstory.

→ COD Masterlist

|| Ghost Having a Friends to Lovers Trope With Reader ||

Tags: Friends to Lovers Trope, Fluff, Hurt!Ghost, Comfort, Childhood Friends, Getting Together, Pre-Relationship, Protective Ghost,

Warnings: Talks of Ghost's backstory (child abuse, neglect, and murder), heavy angst at some parts, mentions of torture and injuries (non graphic)

Gender-Neutral!Reader // Romantic

So, we all know how awful Ghost's childhood is

It wasn't really the place where friends were easily made

So I imagine for this trope to work, it has to be a forced proximity situation

So, like you were a neighbor kid or perhaps like a teacher assigned tutor for him

Nevertheless, despite Ghost having trouble getting close to anyone, you were always there and eventually the two of you fell into an easy friendship

If your more talkative, he would let you take the lead in conversations, happy to just listen and insert little comments here and there

If your quiet like him, the two of you are content to just sit in silence with each other

The two of you also had this kinda quick-witted banter with each other, even if your more on the quiet side

As the two of you got closer, he tried harder to keep his home life away from you

Partly because he didn't want to burden you and partly because he didn't want to soil his "happy place" with what happens at his house

However you do eventually find out one day when he comes to you after he gained a pretty bad bite from a snake because he needs help cleaning it

The night is spent quietly sitting in your bathroom floor as you clean his wounds, him not even flinching when the peroxide touches the bite

You, very gently as to not spook him, wrap him up in your arms and tell him that you will always be there for him no matter what

He says nothing, carefully returning the hug

The two of you get older and when he tells you that he wants to go into the military, you respect that decision despite how much it scares you

You support him as he reconnects with his brother and gets him clean, you even go to his wedding as Simon's "date"

Your sure he means it in a platonic way

He does not

Eventually the two of you have some sort of disagreement (Because of course I have to add drama to these)

Unfortunately, this argument happens right before he leaves to go on a mission to take down the Zaragoza Drug Cartel

To take down Manuel Roba

He had already told you he was going on a short mission in Iran before he had been attached to the American team and had no time to inform you of the sudden change in plans

Therefore, all you had left of him when he went MIA was a unanswered Voicemail from the day he left on the mission

You spent many nights listening to this voicemail, wrapping yourself up in the hoodies he left behind, crying for him because you didn't know if he was even still alive

The military would barely tell Simon's family anything and you were told even less, left to think he had just died somewhere they couldn't retrieve his body and the last conversation you had was a petty argument

Months pass and eventually you move farther away from your childhood town in Manchester, not really keeping in contact with Simon's family beyond short phone calls

You get a phone call from Simon's brother one day, him claiming that Simon was found on the border of Texas, injured but alive

You go to meet him at the hospital and at first he tries to hide his face from you

After you urging, he shows you that he now has many facial scars, including a Glasgow Smile, and he was afraid of what you would think of them

It's a rare show of vulnerability, one that causes you to press a soft kiss to his lips and exclaim to him that you don't care what he looks like, just that your happy he is home

Simon is put on leave from active duty to heal his injuries and he lives with you during this time

He also develops a bad temper, usually causing it to come out whenever you push him to talk about what happened

This causes him to shout and run off, often being gone for many hours at a time

The two of you never really put a name to what you are but it's obviously romantic

He would return home after a while, apologizing profusely

He explains to you how terrified he is of becoming his father and than he would never forgive himself if he laid a hand on you

These nights usually ended up with him crying silently and allowing you to hold him, you telling him that he isn't anything like his father

He then meets up with two of the teammates he had from the Roba mission, realizing they have been brainwashed by Roba

He gets a frantic call from his brother, and goes there to see that his family had been killed by Washington.

He kills Washington before realizing Sparks is not there, quickly calling you

He quickly drives to your apartment, see that it has been broken into

He fears your already dead, but instead finds you severely injured

He cries over your body, trying desperately to get you to wake up

He holds your body as the ambulance arrives, he leaves you in the hospital after leaving again to find Sparks and kill him

He leaves to Mexico, eventually killing him and gaining all of his Intel causing him to be recruited into the 141

He returns home to leave that you had been in critical condition but pulled through, not awake and lucid and asking for him

He enters your room, slowly, not yet approaching your bed

Despite this you smile when you see him, asking him if he is hurt

The breaks him, he crouches by your bedside and grabs your hand:

"Love, I thought you were dead and you're asking me if I am ok? You're outta your damn mind..."

He tells you what happened to his family, that you are in danger by just being associated with him and that you should get out while you still can

You smile, placing a hand on his masked cheek before taking it off

You see tears lingering on his waterline, gently brushing them away with the pad of your thumb

You tell him that you are with him through everything and there is no way your walking away now

He promises to make sure nothing ever happens to you

You help him organize the funeral, hold his hand while he says goodbye to his family

The two of you move to London to be closer to the Task Force's base, him urging you to keep his name a secret from those that you talk with

He looks forward to coming home to you, hiding a ring in his bedside table and saving it for the right moment

Thank you for reading!! ⇣Taglist⇣ @scarlettproof @unabashednightmarepizza @kk00789 @cl0udii-m00n @polar2oidsworld @meepsters-world @uwu-i-purple-you

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fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 2 months

Text

Prisoner pt.3

König x reader.

I tried to write this one as if it was just memories, every dialogue between those «» are different moments, I hope you can try to imagine it in the same way I did. I hurt my own feelings on the way, Remember every ❤️ is important to me, thank you!.

Warning: I hope none, maybe violence but nothing serious. Grammatical and spelling errors, also a translator was used for the German phrases.

Time passed and as you promised, you did your best, you trained hard, you fit in KorTac perfectly, also you won König's trust, both became good friends after you saved him during a mission.

You were controlling a drone, while König was laying on the floor using the sniper, suddenly you heard someone approaching, you didn't hesitate to attack, König just looked at you and said a simple «well done schatz» and continued, for someone else it could be unimportant but for you those words meant a lot.

Every mission helped you to get closer to him, but also you developed another kind of feeling, different to the Respect you had for your Colonel. Every time he was around you felt calm, you felt warm in your chest, every time he unconsciously touched your hand or your shoulder you felt electricity running through your body.

«Colonel are you too busy? Do you mind if I join you?» «Nein, take a seat...»

Every conversation was pretty much the same, You talking a lot, he was just answering, you already knew he is a man of few words.

«... And that's how you play and win in chess» «ja, I know how to play it, just don't like to risk too much in my movements.»

«König, if you have a queen to protect your king... Why wait until the last moment to use it.» «you can win without a queen.» «Jeder König braucht eine Königin (every king needs a queen)» «Where did you learn that?» «At school, duh, but I wasn't really good, Did I say it correctly?» «Ja, very good maus...»

«Did you already think about your new codename? I don't think Buitre is a good codename for someone like you.» « Someone like me? How should someone like me be called then?» «I don't know, you're spirited, strong, smart, attractive... Buitre doesn't fit you.» «Wait, Did you say I'm attractive?» «Wha...?Nein, you're annoying, see you later, alright?» «Alright, see you...»

That day he left quicker than ever, you were having a heart attack, you couldn't believe he said those things about you, mission after mission, you were more and more close, he never said nothing loudly but he enjoyed your company a lot, he was opening himself with you, talking about his dreams or his past.

«Ja, maybe one day I'll decide to retire, I will live in a small house in the countryside.» «i would love to see that, the legend, living in peace after years of hard work» «Sometimes I don't think I can leave... I know I like to be lonely, but to be alone is something I can't handle very well some days». You held his big hand and looked at him, At that moment you weren't sure about what you were doing, you were just leaving your heart to take control of your actions.

«You wouldn't be alone... Remember what I said to you before... Jeder König braucht eine Königin (every king needs a queen) and...since I'm annoying and attractive and also very very single, I wouldn't have any problem to spend the rest of my life with you, you're so far much more than what I always dreamt about...»

Your eyes were closed, at this point you were nervous, risking all the hard work to be around him, you still felt his hand on yours but he was in silence, you were ready to ask him to forgive you for such a comment when you heard something falling on the floor and suddenly his lips collided with yours. It was his mask on the floor, his lips on yours, you could feel a scar, you slowly put your hand on his muscular and big shoulder, and started to go further, his neck, his jaw, finally you touched his face. You didn't need to open your eyes, your hands were more than enough to picture his face on your mind, he was precious, the way he kissed you was soft at first, then it became more intense, the electricity running on your body changed for the feeling of burning, you were in flames, he was the fire you needed to leave your cold and dark past behind. After that evening, both found a new secret reason to fight and went back alive to the base, a secret because no one else but you knew what you had.

«Ich bin dein und du bist mein (I'm yours and you are mine)» König whispered in your ear before sleep, every night and before every mission when nobody was looking at. Life was good and kind for both, giving you the chance to experience how the happiness felt.

But, as with everything, the light needs the dark, the sun needs the moon, the good needs the bad, every beginning needs an end.

It was during a mission. All the team was surrounded by more and more enemies, König was being an amazing leader, guiding everybody to the exit, shouting orders without losing the calm, too focused on saving everyone, letting down his guard just for a second.

That second was enough to end with every possibility of a happy ending. A man was pointing at König, he didn't notice it, but you did, you didn't think about anything else, you did what you needed to protect the person you loved. Jumped just in time to push König aside and make him turn around, but the bullet got you, you fell on the cold ground while könig broke the enemy's head with a quick movement using his weight and a huge hammer in his favor.

- Y/N!

He took you In his arms and ran, you were losing a lot of blood and the pain was getting worse, you resisted until the helicopter landed for all of you. But the pain and the blood were winning the battle. You knew it, you wouldn't make it. You pulled off your dog tag necklace and put it on König's hand.

- NEIN! Look at me y/n! You can't die here!

- I'm sorry my love...

- No, Nein, we have a lot to do, remember? Y/n you said you would spend your life with me...

Everybody was in silence watching the scene, feeling useless and incapable of helping you, they were feeling as intruders In the intimacy of the painful moment.

- I'm getting cold, König would you hold me?

He didn't answer, his actions talked for him, he put you on his lap and held you tight, repeating over and over «Ich bin dein und du bist mein (I'm yours and you are mine)» his gloves and clothes were bathed In your blood, your vision was blurry, you started to close your eyes slowly, you could felt your heartbeat getting slow and quiet, you knew it was over. «Ich liebe dich, meine liebe, meine König...(I love you, my love, my king)» your last breath was accompanied by your last words.

König didn't look down at your body, his look was fixed on the metallic door in front of him, he was containing his rage, his sadness, all the emotional rollercoaster driving him crazy. When they landed, he didn't say anything, he walked with your body to the nursery, the medics didn't try to give CPR or something that could bring you back, they started the protocols for the death.

Three days later, König signed the documents of the autopsy, cremation and another document with your new name and codename, he surprised himself when he read the new codename you chose.

Ex prisoner 505.

Old name: (y/n) (l/n) Old codename: Buitre 6-1.

Reason of imprisonment: War crimes (not specified), murders, torture, undisciplined, deserter (prisoner left his position after committing the aforementioned crimes, was captured and executed).

This prisoner was reported as 'killed in action' before the corresponding authorities, therefore, it does not exist in the system anymore, No more information available.

New identity.

New Name: _____ New Codename: Königin

date of birth: __/__/____ date of death:__/__/____

Cause of death: killed in action. (Y/n)(L/n) died saving the colonel of the team, receiving a bullet directly in the liver, died during the trip to the base, was taken to the nursery by the colonel, the hour of the death was at 18:00 hours, every protocol was attended by the medics of the base. Königin, died with bravery and honor and that is how will be remember.

König cried and sobbed in his office, why did you do that? This shouldn't be happening, both deserved more, this love deserved more, you were too young, a lot of thoughts invaded his mind when something interrupted those dark thoughts, the dog tag, YOUR dog tag necklace, he started to look for it In every pocket until he found it «Buitre 6-1», he put it back where he found it and someone knocking at his door disturbed him. A young soldier, he was carrying a box with your name written on it. König looked at him with cold eyes, took the box and closed the door at the poor soldier's face. He started to look at everything, it wasn't much, a small bottle of perfume, some clothes, a beer, files, cigarettes, bubblegum, candies, and a small paper envelope.

He was feeling guilty for spying on your stuff, but the curiosity was too much, he opened it delicately and found a small piece of metal, another dog tag and a note.

«Thank you for giving me my freedom, thank you for bringing adventures and warmth to my life. Ich liebe dich, meine liebe. You're mine and I'm yours.»

- Königin.

After that day, König started to use your necklace with your dog tags, he visited the place where he deposited your ashes and every time before leaving he kissed the small plate with your name and whispered «I'm still yours, meine Königin, until the day I die»

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teamblck · 2 months

Text

König headcanons

SFW but some are suggestive so MINORS DNI

• has a cleft lip on the left side

• uses so many emojis when texting

• “i love you schatz be home soon😘 🩷😁❤️💖💝💓🥰😍💕💌❣️”

• hates baths because he’s usually too big to fit in them comfortably and gets folded up

• i hc him to be around 6’5-6’7(i know his va said he’s 6’10, but his va also said that könig wouldn’t be interested in bigger people only thinner so i’m not listening)

• favorite flavor of ice cream is strawberry

• was raised by his grandparents and was an only child

• keeps his hair buzzed off

• HUGE cuddle bug

• whenever he’s home he’s attached to your hip

• gets so happy when you ask him to help you learn german (if you don’t already know it)

• gets homesick often and dreams of taking you to austria

• never had an actual relationship before but has had a couple of hookups

• doesn’t matter what size you are this man is picking you up all the time

• def does the the german stare

• has stretch marks (along with a ton of scars) on his body because of all the growth spurts he had as a child and teenager

• mutters the funniest comments under his breath

• i feel like he has had sex before but he doesn’t actively go out looking for it since he’s so committed to his job

• likes watching the rain

• ambidextrous

• listens to audiobooks

• a human radiator heater

• snores when he lays on his back

• cat person

• when he gets nervous or really flustered (like when he’s having sex) all he speaks is german

• has like 5 weighted blankets

• would buy an engagement ring like 3 months into dating

• hates air conditioning but complains about being hot all the time

• has no other forms of social media except pinterest

• 100% eats pussy for his pleasure

• EXTREMELY PROTECTIVE

• hates his living space being a mess so is constantly cleaning

• god like stamina

• blushes easily

• even if he food is nothing like what he ordered he wouldn’t say anything and just eat it even if he hates it

• love language would be physical touch and quality time

let me know if you have any feedback!

#konig call of duty #cod konig #konig cod #konig headcanons #call of duty hc #call of duty mwii #call of duty mw3 #call of duty headcanons #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #könig call of duty

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daisies-daydreams · 11 months

Note

Hey, how are you doing, hope your alright... I'm loving your work and if you don't mind can you do ghost and konig like.......uhmm let us be honest, in most of the story they end up getting jealous when a guy hit on reader right?? Let us 🤭 turn the tables, we want the reader get jealous and you know, like him and reader, went to pub to get there stress out by having some drinks and a girl end up hitting on him.....and you get jealous 😳😭 end up drinking alot, that u lost it, when you go to your (base or house) and head to your room and..... like you go wild 🫠😏😭 on him and they don't know how to react (smut)

Soo sorry to give u a long passage, 💞🥺 I really do appreciate your works, and thank you showing your work (HOPE PLEASE ACCEPT THIS REQUEST OF MINE AND THANK YOU AND FOR YOUR WORK) 🥺❤️❤️ Have a great day 💕

Next Round’s On Me (König x Jealous!F!Reader)

Pairing: König x F!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Handjobs, Oral Sex (M!Receiving), Reverse Cowgirl, Doggy Style, Backshot, Drinking, Consensual Sex Word Count: 3.1k+

A/N: Hello and thank you for your request! I hope it’s alright, but due to the fic’s lengths, I made König’s and Ghost’s scenarios two separate parts (link to Ghost’s fic is below). I hope you enjoy!

Next Round's On Me (Ghost's Version)

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

“Maus?” König asked. You turned around in your swivel chair, your eyes red from how much you’ve been staring at your computer. You grinned ear to ear as your boyfriend strode into your room.

“Hey, baby,” you sighed. He leaned down and gave you a chaste kiss. König glanced over at your computer.

“You’re still working?” he asked. You nodded before spinning back around in your chair.

“Mhm. They need these reports in as soon as possible, and I’m already swamped with-“ you were cut off when König wrapped his bulky arms around you. You looked behind you. “Kö?” you asked. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he pecked the top of your head.

“I admire your work ethic, (Y/N). But I think both of us need something to take the edge of, hm?” he suggested. You cocked your head.

“What did you have in mind?”

+++

The bar was humming with life. Tipsy patrons cackled and chattered as König and you sat snugly at a table near the corner of the bustling room. Smoke hung in the air as you took another swig of your drink. König gazed down at you, his usual sniper mask replaced with a common black medical mask. His blue eyes glistened beneath the dim lighting as you rested your head on his rough shoulder.

“You’re right-I did need something to take the edge off,” you chuckled. Warmth and a renewed sense of boldness filled you as you bit your bottom lip. You breathed out through your nose as your hand trailed up his jeans. König’s breath hitched as he quickly clasped his hand over yours.

“Maus, not here,” he warned, his eyes scanning over the room full of people. You poked your tongue out, an expression he seemed to mirror based on the tiny bulge that formed beneath his mask. You giggled and took another sip. “I'm glad you're enjoying yourself-though you are drinking more than I expected,” König said with a raised brow, concern laced in his raspy voice. You shrugged.

“I’m only tipsy-don’t worry,” you said with flushed cheeks. Your boyfriend eyed you up and down before pulling his mask down, taking a swig of his own beverage. Your legs squeezed together when you felt a familiar urge hit you. You slid out of your chair.

“Where are you going?” König asked. You lazily pointed towards the bathroom. König clicked his tongue. “Try not to get lost in there,” he jested. You stuck your tongue out again, something that made his brows arch and a smile stretch across his glistening face.

“I’ll be fine,” you waved as you wandered towards the men’s room. You paused, then turned to the correct door. After doing your business, you made sure to smooth out your hair and straighten up before stepping back into the main room.

Your face fell when you saw a young blonde woman placing her hand on König’s forearm. He seemed to stiffen under her touch, his eyes averting her tits that threatened to spill out of the tight fitting dress she wore. A dark pit opened up in your chest and swallowed you whole as you staggered towards them.

“I don’t think I’ve seen your cute face around here before,” she beamed while twirling a strand of hair in her fingers. Your nostrils flared as you approached.

“I-I’m sorry. You seem like a very sweet lady, but I already have a girlfriend,” König explained as he withdrew his arm from her hand, scooching over in his chair. The woman giggled as she leaned in closer, her face inches from his.

“Well, you are a big boy. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind sharing, since there seems to be enough to go around,” she purred as her eyes flicked down to his crotch.

“She minds very much,” you huffed as you crossed your arms.

Both of their heads snapped up, the woman's mouth snapping open as she scoffed. König’s eyes widened with relief as he slipped away from the flirtatious woman. She looked you up and down, her eyes filled with a burning contempt. You glared back, but your frown soon turned into a warm smile as your love came to your side.

“Hi, baby,” you cooed as you raised yourself on your tiptoes. König leaned down and gasped when you pulled his mask over. His eyes crossed when you smashed your plump lips against his. You made sure to moan slightly as the two of you locked your wet lips together. The woman scoffed as she rose out of the chair.

“Whatever,” she grumbled as she stomped away. You smirked at her as she quickly left, onto the next seemingly single man in the bar. You gasped for air when you pulled back. König’s pupils were blown as a string of saliva attached to your lips. His hand came up and rubbed your cheek.

“Maus, that was-“

“Get a room,” a drunk man hollered on a nearby barstool. Your lips twisted as you shot him a dirty glare. He didn’t seem too bothered by it as he went back to wiping his nose and slurring about the game playing on the TV to the poor bloke next to him. You sighed, your hands sliding up König’s pecs before landing on his shoulders.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whispered with a playful smile.

+++

König’s footsteps lumbered as the two of you made your way into your apartment. The keys jingled before he pushed the front door open. You gave him a wry grin as you took his hand, guiding him inside. Not long after he closed the door, you pushed him against the wall. His eyes widened.

“Maus?” he blinked. You wiggled your hips before trailing your hands down his abdomen. His eyes were trained on you as you fell down to your knees, his wide chest rising and falling with deep breaths. König gasped when you started to undo his belt, your fingers working deftly. “S-SScheiße,” he stammered.

You wanted to make sure that any thoughts of other woman were completely erased from his mind.

You licked your lips as you dragged down the band of his boxers, releasing his half-hard cock. You gave him a pair of doe eyes, your hands gripping at the front of his thighs.

“Oh, mein Gott,” he breathed. You chuckled as you kissed the tip of his cock, pulling his foreskin down across his shaft. His large hand immediately flew to the back of your head as you wrapped your fist around the base of his cock. You were sure that König was only half-human: your hand barely reached around his thick shaft. You sighed as you littered his head with small, wet kitten licks.

He released a guttural moan and curved his fingers into your scalp. You started to pump your fist around his shaft as you swirled your wet muscle around his pink tip.

“Yes,” he groaned, his cock twitching as you wrapped your lips around the head. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes before suddenly taking most of him down your throat. You gagged slightly, his girth nearly unhinging your jaw. His knees buckled when you hollowed your cheeks around his dick. “Kätzchen,” König whined as he bucked his hips forward, threatening to sink his cock completely down your throat.

You shifted your shoulders as you adjusted your head. You let your throat relax as you grabbed at what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. He grunted when you gave the base of his cock a firm squeeze before pushing your head back. His hand rested on your head as you left his head snug between your plush lips. You sank back down with a wet squelch. König’s head fell back against the wall as you sank your head back down. Soon, your hands and mouth were working in tandem as his cock grew harder and harder.

“Mmm, can’t wait to see what my cum looks like when it falls from between your lips,” König rumbled. The thought made you moan, the vibrations causing him to gently grip at your hair as he gasped. “Keep going, Schatz,” he growled as he thrusted his hips forward. You obliged, your hands caressing his cock as your tongue stroked the underside of his veiny shaft. König groaned as he started to snap his hips forward. You could taste the salty precum dribbling into your mouth.

You blinked your eyes open and looked up. König stiffened right when he met your gaze, his cock twitching relentlessly as he suddenly spilled down your throat. You squealed as you squeezed his shaft a few more times, relishing in the feeling of his hot spend draining down your esophagus. You gasped for air when you finally pulled yourself off of his cock. Some of his cum oozed from between your lips. You swiped at it with your digits, locking eyes with your panting boyfriend. He cursed as you slotted it into your mouth, greedily sucking it down until there was nothing left.

“That, that was…” König’s husky voice trailed off as he smiled down at you dizzily. You gave him a sympathetic look before licking a stripe at the tip. König groaned.

“Come with me,” you whispered as you took his hand. He had no complaints as you led him to the bedroom. König’s eyes bulged as you stripped yourself, letting your panties fall to the floor more slowly than your other clothing. You pushed your chest forward as you shifted your thighs together, your slick smearing across your folds.

“Get on the bed,” you pointed with flushed cheeks. König arched his brows as he cracked a passionate grin.

“Yes ma’am,” he beamed. You gladly admired him as he removed his clothes; a walking, glowing Adonis in your presence. He huffed as he climbed onto the mattress, letting his cock rest between his sturdy legs. You stepped over and climbed on top of him, letting your thighs slot against his hips. König purred as he gently lay his hands on your waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed in awe. Your own thoughts seemed to falter at his words, a lump forming in your throat. König frowned. “What’s wrong, Maus?” he asked softly. You didn’t realize that your bottom lip was quivering until now.

“Nothing,” you waved as you began to lower your hips. His hands squeezed your waist and you looked up again.

“I know you, liebling. I can see that look in your eye,” he said. You frowned, your hands resting on top of his chest as you leaned back.

“I just…do you really think I’m beautiful, Kö?” you blushed while averting his gaze.

“Of course I do, Schatz,” he immediately replied. You glanced up at him again, your features more sheepish this time. A lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. “Is this about the woman in the bar?” König asked. You quickly hid your face in his shoulder as you nodded silently, your cheeks exploding with a deep shade of merlot.

“Oh, Kätzchen,” he cooed. You relaxed as he wrapped his arms around you. The pads of his rough fingers stroked your upper back, causing a blanket of goosebumps to fall over you. He tilted his head back slightly, taking you in with a deep breath.

“Ich liebe dich, (Y/N). Nobody’s going to change that,” he murmured, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. Tears welled in your eyes as you let your face fall towards him, your lips locking with his. His hands smoothed over your back as you kissed him slowly and deeply.

You sighed as you closed your eyes, relishing in the warmth that radiated from the man you loved. You pulled back slightly to gasp for air before kissing him again, this time sticking your tongue in his mouth. König moaned as you caressed his wet muscle with yours, your breasts pushing against his scarred chest. You squeaked when one of his hands snaked down and grabbed a handful of your ass. You mewled as he squeezed and jiggled the flesh in his large palm. You drew away from the kiss, trailing your lips up his scruffy jaw before resting just below his ear.

“God, I love you. Mein großer Bär,” you purred. His hand tightened around your ass as you nibbled on the shell of his ear. You traced your finger around the scars of his chest, all the way up to his lips.

“I’ll make sure you cum until you see stars,” you moaned. König shuddered below you, not used to such filthy language falling from your sweet lips.

“Fuck, please,” he begged as he bucked his hips forward. You smiled and licked your lips as you shifted yourself on top of him. König’s hand slipped to his side as he watched you with glazed eyes. You peeked over your shoulder as you turned around, pushing your ass out and wagging it in his face. You heard him swallow thickly as you lowered your hips, your dripping pussy hovering just above the scorching tip of his red, aching cock.

His hands flew out and grabbed your waist as you wrapped your hand around his burning length. You craned your neck to look back as you lined him up to your entrance. His mouth snapped into a tight “o” as you sank down on his dick-his cock head deliciously spreading you open with a loud squelch. A cracked moan erupted from König’s lips as your walls molded to the shape of his cock, your pussy swallowing him inch by inch.

“F-Fuck, liebling,” your boyfriend groaned, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips. You chuckled lowly as you felt his cock throb inside of you. It always felt so tight-but it was a slow pressure that burned you alive in the best ways. You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt the head of his cock kiss your cervix. Both of you panted as you adjusted your hips, your walls fluttering around his thick length.

“Y-You always fill me up so much, Kö,” you swallowed. König grunted at your words, his fingertips pressing into your waist. You took a deep breath before raising your hips, his cock coated with your slick as you left his head plugged at your entrance. He moaned as you sheathed his dick back inside. Every ridge and curve stroked the ribs of your walls so tenderly as you bounced yourself on his cock.

The room was filled with the wet sound of skin slapping as you arched your back. Your ass jiggled against his rough, lower abdomen as your slick coated his pubic hairs. You moaned as you felt the thick vein below his shaft caress a spot that made you crumble. You bit your lip as you snaked your hand down and rubbed tight circles over your puffy clit. A hot bolt of lighting struck down your spine and into your core when you heard a loud squelch rip through the room.

“Ah!” you keened. König’s nails stung as they dug into your sides, applying enough pressure to draw the faintest trace of crimson. Your head felt dizzy with arousal as you rocked your hips up and down, König’s cock hitting your sensitive g-spot with each deep thrust.

“So good to me. Meine braves mädchen,” he praised as he watched your ass bounce against his rugged flesh. You squeezed your eyes shut as your thighs shook. Your pussy screamed for release as your walls constricted around him. Hot tears streaked down your face as you continued to spear yourself on your boyfriend's member.

Your body was burning, exhaustion sweeping over you and begging you to pause. But the roaring heat boiling in your core was too powerful to ignore. You cried as you kept pushing yourself up and down, your fingers deftly working at your swollen nub.

“Just a little more,” you thought inside your lust-hazed mind. You whimpered as your thighs burned and gummy walls writhed around König’s length. Just as you were ready to collapse, you felt König press his broad, sweaty chest against you. You gasped as you were gently shoved forward, his cock slightly slipping from your gushing cunt. You whined as he adjusted your hips with his palms. Your mind felt like it was turning to mush as he sheathed his cock to the hilt. König’s hips were pressed against your ass as he heaved above you.

“Sorry, engel-but I can’t hold back any longer,” he strained before suddenly pounding into you with no restraint. A fire lit in your belly at his feral tone. You arched your back and cried out as he pistoned his cock into your tight hole-his heavy balls slapping against your clit with every deep, hungry thrust.

“Fuck!” you sobbed. Your head reeled with lust as he pushed you closer to the edge with every drive of his hips. He spouted curses and praises in German as he spread your asscheeks apart, no doubt watching how his thick length mercilessly plunged into your wet hole. Your breathing became ragged as the muscles in your lower stomach tightened. König bared his teeth before scraping them across your upper back. You released a silent scream as your mouth fell open, your gummy walls clamping down around his cock.

“(Y/N), s-scheiße,” he groaned as your pussy gushed around him. Your juices spilled from where your sexes joined as your body was wracked with wave after wave of pure ecstasy. König kept pushing his cock into you, his chest rumbling as he felt your last contraction roll over you. The side of your face was squished against the mattress, a puddle of drool forming below your cheek.

“König,” you slurred as you felt him split you open, your core scorching as pleasure seeped into every inch of your body. Your boyfriend grunted as he pressed his forehead against the back of your scalp. You shivered with ecstasy as his hot breath fanned over your neck.

“Where do you want me?” he asked, his voice thick and heavy with his accent. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his cock drilled into your slick, overstimulated walls. You wheezed as he bit into your neck and rolled his hot tongue across the red mark.

“O-On my back,” you mewled. König grunted before kissing your shoulder. He kept his forehead pressed into you as he bruised your hips with his leviathan grip. He shoved his cock into you a few more times before he quickly pulled out.

He released an animalistic growl as he shot his warm cum across the ridge of your back, painting milky white streaks onto your shivering body. Your hands curled into the sheets as he kept his hips snug against your ass, his cock spitting out the last few strings of cum. König’s grip on your hips loosened as he gave a stuttered breath.

“Liebling?” he asked, his brows furrowed with concern. You turned your head, revealing a deep blush that crossed your cheeks and rose up to your ears. His eyes were blown from the aftershock of his orgasm, his huge cock softening and resting against your lower back. You shivered as you felt his semen ooze across your back, your hole puckering and still gushing with your slick. You blinked as you slowly came up to your knees. König hummed as you turned and pecked his lips.

“That...was...incredible,” you exhaled slowly. König chuckled and nodded, his forehead snug against yours as he pulled you onto his lap. You kissed him again, this time savoring the flavor of his lips as we wrapped his arms around you. You slipped your hand out of his grasp and cupped them over his sharp cheeks. His deep blue eyes glistened as you swiped at the corner of his mouth.

“Next time, I want you to cum inside me,” you purred. You felt something twitch below you as a guttural groan escaped from König's mouth.

'Next time’ may be sooner than you expected.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Translations:

Maus - Mouse

Scheiße - Shit

Kätzchen - Kitten

Ich liebe dich - I love you

Liebling - Darling

Schatz - Treasure

Mein großer Bär - My big bear

Meine braves mädchen - My good girl

Engel - Angel

Tag list: @notthatfanfictionwriter

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