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ghouljams · 5 months

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König would be so good as a period buddy :(

He's got those huge hands and I bet he just radiates heat, he'd massage your back while you lay on him, he'd press his hand against your stomach to try and soothe the cramps. He'd be so attentive, he was raised by his mutter to be a good boy and this is important good boy activities :( fetching heating pads, candy, easy food when your hormones fuck up your appetite, soup and tea. König would just coo at you each time you whined, he hates seeing you hurting but you're so cute and needy :(

He'd love period sex. You're so squirmy and embarrassed, but you're so hot on his tongue and you make such pretty sounds for him. There's something dark and possessive that growls with pleasure seeing your blood on his cock, feeling you tremble and cry because your hormones are running wild. You're just so cute! You're adorable, he just wants to eat you up. Maybe he will, he's already got you basically confined to bed. Why ever let you anywhere else after this?

#cod x reader #x reader #könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig #f!reader #könig x f!reader #afab!reader #tw periods #period sex #i am in so much pain lol #ghoul is very sick rn

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ivysoul · 9 months

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⋆｡𖦹 °✩ CALL FOR HELP. — PERV!KÖNIG.

. ➶ ˚ ꒰ contains. fem!reader, perv!könig, hidden cameras, masturbation (f and m), very brief phone sex. ꒱

. ➶ ˚ ꒰ notes. i for some reason could not finish this so take this half assed attempt at smut (my other works are way better than this pls😭) ꒱

༊*·˚ ꒰ cod masterlist. ꒱ ✩ ꒰ navigation. ꒱

perv!könig who puts hidden cameras around your house when you ask him to fix something for you while you were at the store :(. he tells himself it’s so that he can keep an eye on you and your safety when he’s not around, but he can’t shoot out any excuses when he finds himself watching you through the cameras late at night, playing with your little clit and stuffing two fingers in your gushing hole.

in all fairness, he only looked at the cameras because he was curious to know what you were up to. he hadn’t expected to see you in such an intimate and private moment. nor did he expect his cock to get so hard so quickly.

without a single thought in his brain, he reaches down to his sweatpants and frees his cock, already leaking with pre-cum after watching you for about five minutes. he hisses when he runs his thumb along his tip, smearing the pre down his shaft as much as he could.

he tries to set the same pace as your fingers on your clit—he wants to finish with you, not before you. but it got hard when all that was on his mind was you and your pretty, glistening cunt. the way your mouth fell open in pleasure had him wondering if you were moaning or just letting out little breathy noises. he also wondered what was on your mind as you toyed with yourself.

he would be lying if he said he’d never thought about you whilst touching himself. it was hard not to when you looked as pretty as you did. he would also be lying if he said that the times he got off to the thought of you weren’t the best orgasms of his entire life. so this wasn’t out of the ordinary for him, the camera was just a (much appreciated) added bonus.

he was so lost in the pleasure that he didn’t notice your hand flailing about on the sheets in search for your phone. he didn’t notice you raising your phone up to your ear, until his phone ran out from his bedside table. he didn’t even think before he grabbed it and pressed answer, immediately being able to now hear your voice and the far away tone of it.

“könig..” you whined, throwing your head back on your pillow. your hand between your legs remained in its position. “need your help.”

you didn’t want to call your best friend for help in this situation, but nothing was working and the only thing you could think of was to call him, the man you had been crushing on for a good portion of your life.

he squeezed his eyes shut tightly at the sound of your voice, only adding to his rising heart rate. he couldn’t let on that he knew what you were talking about, even if it surprised him to no end. so instead, he feigned innocence.

“with what, kleine maus?” he asked, doing his hardest to keep his voice level and calm. “something the matter?”

you only whined again response, your sexual frustration clear through the camera phone. the fingers on your clit felt useless, and you wished for nothing more than those fingers to be könig’s.

letting out a soft moan, you said the only words you were thinking. “needa cum. please, make me cum. only… only you can.”

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 📁 ꒰ könig ! ⊹˚. ♡ ꒱#könig modern warfare #könig #könig smut #könig cod smut #könig call of duty modern warfare 2 #könig cod mw2 #könig call of duty #könig x reader #könig x f!reader #saintlulls

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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Delicate | Simon “Ghost” Riley x König x AFAB!Wife!Reader (18+)

a/n: do not burn me at the stake this is like the third time i’ve ever written smut LEAVE ME BE (thank you @as-is-above-so-below for beta-ing you’re so awesome) ALSO THIS IS A COMPLETE STAND ALONE HAHA

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY, ALL MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED. AFAB Anatomy. Pregnant sex, oral sex (F receiving), lactation kink.

18+ BELOW THE CUT

“C’mon, Mama, stay still.”

Your hands fisted the sheets below you as both of your husbands lay on top of you - both touching you for the first time in weeks.

König settled in between your thighs, thin brown stubble scratching your soft skin as he sucked on your clit. His arms curled around your legs to keep you in place, one of his large hands settled on the juncture between your hip and leg to hold you down.

Ghost was cradled in your arms, sucking on your leaking nipple as his fingers tweaked the other. You held both of their heads by their hair, your back arched up from the mattress as König’s tongue fell further.

You wanted them to take you again, hold you down as they rammed their cocks into you at an excruciating pace - but your rounded and pregnant belly made everything difficult. This would suffice, though; they had been gone for a few weeks, and your fingers just couldn’t satisfy you like theirs could. Damn your pregnancy hormones, nauseous one minute and horny the next. You were glad you had them both, satisfying both of your needs - your breasts painfully full of milk and the need to be fucked.

König’s tongue was long, yet not as skilled as Ghost’s, and even though he gave you shallow laps with it, you were ready to explode. Your hand curled at the root of his jaw length brown hair, pushing him further into your cunt - feeling his tongue push in. As soon as he shoved the rest of his tongue into you, Ghost’s teeth nibbled at your nipple. Your hand tugged at his short hair, pushing him farther into your breast.

Pressure on the top of your clit came from Ghost’s thumb, and you bucked your hips into König’s face; his tongue dug deeper and he groaned in pleasure. He sucked at your cunt, making your head roll backwards on the pillow.

With a little pop from your nipple, Simon pulled away, taking large breaths in quickly. “Doin’ okay?”

You nodded feverishly, mouth open and panting. “Fuck me already.”

König pulled away from your cunt, “I’m too long for her, might hurt the little one.” He leaned back up, you whined at the missing heat. “Switch me.”

“On your side,” Simon muttered, and you willingly complied feeling like a dog in heat the way you needed them. It would be best for you to be on your side with Simon’s tendency to collapse on top of you or König - and no matter how they would do anything at your request, the child that grew in your womb was theirs to protect. Didn’t matter whose it was biologically, neither man would harm that child. “Tell me if I hurt you,” Simon murmured against your ear as his hand crept between your legs, your breath hitched. Your back curled against his chest as his thicker fingers traced shapes on your clit, your eyes tightly shut.

The bed creaked as König laid in front of you, bringing his now clean fingers to your face, rubbing your cheek as he pressed his forehead into yours. “Breathe, Liebling.”

Your forehead dug into König’s, panting as he moved one of his hands down to your heat, but not touching you where you wanted - his hand held onto your thigh and pulled your leg up just a little bit.

It wasn’t more than a second before Simon pushed himself in, your eyes rolled back into your head as you let out a lewd moan, and König pressed his lips to yours, cutting off the sound and squeezing your thigh. Heat pooled from the middle of your chest all the way down to your core, your walls clenching around Simon’s cock. The man behind you groaned, his face pressing into your shoulder as he kept pushing in.

The soft kisses from König almost kept you distracted as Simon dragged his teeth against your skin when he bottomed out. “Touch me,” you whimpered, “Please.”

The man in front of you pressed another kiss to your lips before you felt Simon’s hand take your leg from him, allowing him to press his fingers into your clit. As soon as you jolted from the pleasure, Simon pulled out a little and thrusted back in - your mouth pulled into a silent scream as he began to pound into you.

König kept his hand on your clit, the other holding your face as you panted, euphoric and hormonal. His thumb rubbed circles into your bundle of nerves, your head moved forward into König’s neck.

“Such a good mama,” the man in front of you whispered into your ear, the head of Simon’s cock hitting the spongy spot in your pussy and making you whimper. “Being so good to us.”

Simon’s forehead still against your shoulder, his grip holding onto your hips as he kept drilling into you - knowing he wasn’t long enough to hurt the baby, but thick enough to make you go stupid.

“Taking him so well, is this what you wanted?” König mumbled to you, and you nodded feverishly in response. “Oh, Liebling. You’re just so needy.”

“Yes,” You panted, nodding into his neck. “Yes yes yes,”

“Did you touch yourself while we were away?” His words made you want to move your hand from his hip and pull his cock out of his pants, stick it in next to Simon’s and let them have at it. But, you just nodded as Simon’s hand shifted your leg up higher so he could thrust at a deeper angle, pulling another yet another groan from you. “Just so needy.”

“Horny, is the word.” Simon muttered from gritted teeth, his forehead sticky against you. “Fuckin’ tight, bloody Hell.”

“So good, let him take whatever he wants, hm? If our little baby was not inside of you right now, I would shove myself in beside him. I’d go so slow, you’d never want to leave,” König’s teeth nipped your chin before he placed wet kissed to your neck, teeth grazed supple skin as the sound of Simon’s hips hitting your ass grew louder. There was a long moment it was only the melody that was your love. König sucking on your throat, your moans into König’s ear as Ghost rutted into you, choked grunts escaping his throat. König lapped at the bites he made before murmuring, “You’ll never leave us, right, princess?” His kisses made it down to your breasts, his long and warm tongue dragging over a leaking nipple. You jolted against Simon, clenching around him and he let out a surprised laugh.

“Tell us princess, tell us what feels so good,” Simon smirked against your skin. “And we’ll do even better for you.”

———

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softstargirl · 5 months

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Strawberries & Blueberries! (A Sweet Treat For A Sweet Man!♡)

Pic - Pinterest Account: @candytufftie.

I have been thirsting over this cake for wayyyy too long (a day) and our wholesome baby deserves to enjoy it! (I'm delulu) (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Sorry if I butchered the German language ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡ I was using DeepL Translator.

König/F! Reader, Baking & Wholesomeness. Fluff & a little bit Suggestive.

Enjoy!!! (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

Writing tips are appreciated in this household!! ♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡ (Seriously, I'm aiming to improve in writing! ෆ⁠╹⁠ ⁠.̮⁠ ⁠╹⁠ෆ)

“Meine liebe (my love), there’s no need to do all of this. We can just spend the day rewatching the series you love.” Kong tried to convince you but failed miserably as you pulled out your cookbook and placed it on the table, [f/c] apron tied around your body and your face beaming. A red, silk bookmark stood out underneath the pages before it and a grin shone on your face as you opened it.

“I am not going to hear you out, Kö. You just got back and I have to treat you. Please, it'll make me really happy. Please?”

The large man sighed at the sight of your pleading, shoulders lowering in defeat and with a nod, a smile appeared on your face and you rushed to hug him. “Thank you! It's going to taste so good!” König rolled his eyes, a warm smile on his face as your frame tightly held onto him before you let go.

“I'm so glad I managed to snag a remaining copy of the book. The Pinterest mom who created it said that if I didn't contact her at the time I did I would have probably found them sold out! She’s such a sweet lady. I hope I'll be like her when I’m older. Five whole children and she’s still so active.”

“Gosh, she’s lucky to have all the energy to handle all the stuff that she has to do. Her husband seems sweet too. He was playing with the kids at the park as she was explaining the contents of the book to me. They were so adorable together.”

I truly hope that you and I will be like that too. Probably because of how wonderful of a boyfriend you are. No doubt that our future will look like that”.

König paused as he brought out the egg carton from the fridge. You imagined him being with you for so long? König sometimes wondered how he ended up with someone as amazing as yourself. “Was there no one else who you’d rather commit a relationship to?” “Was he worthy of you?”

Truly, he didn't know. You were, in his eyes, way too graceful for him. Kind, loving and sweet as sugar towards people whom you showed care for. You treated him so well that he sometimes couldn't grasp that he was around you. Around your light. Your presence. Your amazing self.

The whisk rotated firmly as he moved it, not wanting you to injure your soft hands and form callouses and blisters which he had grown accustomed to. König could tell that you were keen on watching his arms as he worked and made sure to flex his muscles as long as you were on sight. The little lip bite you do makes it so worth it.

“Don't try to tempt me, Kö. Gosh, the sugar in the mixture smells divine”. His lips kissed your cheek after his hand grazed your bum as he placed the flour in the cupboard.

You brought out the strawberries and blueberries, basking in their blooming red and blue-purple colour with a grin on your face as they sat on the basket you placed them in after washing them. A smack to your hand made you roll your eyes as you attempted to taste a juicy strawberry once more then a blueberry after you had a couple of them. König took the strawberry from your hand and sliced it. “Dummes mädchen (silly girl), why did you choose to stuff four strawberries and a couple of berries in your mouth?”

“You keep pushing my hand away from the basket. What else am I supposed to do?” You responded, wiping the icing you placed on top of the berries from your lips.

König chuckled and walked up to them. “You've got a little bit left at the corner of your lips. Lassen sie mich Ihnen helfen. (Let me help you.)”

König’s thick thumb trailed over the curve of your lip, making your cheeks grow hot. They grew hotter as you watched him lick the icing off of it, a teasing smile growing on his face at your dismay.

You looked away, desire pooling in you and started wide-eyed when his hand gently moved your face right back to his sight. “I was on the mission for a while. Pardon my boldness, but I just can't wait to feel you right after we’re done.”

“I understand the feeling so much. I can't wait either. I hope I'll be able to walk tomorrow. Knowing you, I doubt it.” You giggled and gently kissed his cheek then moved to place the batter in baking pans.

“Meine Güte, du hast mein Verlangen nach dir noch verstärkt.” (“My goodness, you've made me crave you even more.”)

“It's so good!” You grinned as you chewed on the sweet taste of the cake as you both sat on the couch, cuddling as a show you loved played on the TV.

“Yes, it is.” König nodded then popped a blueberry into his mouth and smiled at you.

You caught his gaze and smiled back. “You've got a little icing...here.” You said and flicked the icing off of his soft lips with your thumb and licked it off of your finger. You caught the desire pooling in his eyes and lifted your head to kiss him. Lowering his head, your lips met his. The fruity taste of the cake resided in your mouths and you savoured one another.

“Hmm! Kö, let’s- oh! eat first.” You told him as your hands caressed his face. His hands moved lower onto your sides and tightly held onto them as he placed you on his lap.

“Lass mich jetzt ein kleine stück von dir essen. Dann esse ich gleich noch mehr kuchen.” ("Let me eat a little piece of you now. Then I'll eat some more cake.")

#☁️🌟🩷writes #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig x reader #task force 141 x you #könig x f!reader #könig x fem reader #könig fluff #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #cod modern warfare

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saltofmercury · 1 year

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Enough

Pairing: König x f!reader

Author's note: I feel like this is very vanilla for me? I never knew how to write smut or end it.

tags: smut, AFAB reader, sorry it's me being straight.

"Enough"

It had been happening all day. Small glimpses of skin peeking through at you.

It was the middle of night when you opened your eyes. A dark room, light coming in through the windows, you got up to use the bathroom. König was sleeping beside you soundly, one arm behind his head, the other hand below his belly button in his pants. You loved seeing him relaxed–where he wasn’t on constant high alert and just at peace. When you came back to bed, he had repositioned himself slightly, his shirt raised a little more, his sweatpants pulled down more, exposing more of himself.

The second instance happened when he had come back from picking up a grocery order and was carrying the water bottles inside the house. His broad arms carried one box on his shoulder, the other holding all the other bags wrapped in his hand. His loud footsteps announcing his presence, he walked in, placed the items carefully down, then stretched his arms back. You could see how many of his muscles flexed and part of his t-shirt raised a little, showing the v-line you saw earlier this morning.

The final straw happened when you guys had come back from the movies. You both were in the car while he drove home. At first holding your hand, playing with your fingers and then bringing the back of your hand to his mouth to place gentle kisses on. Gradually moving his hand on your thigh. He rubbed your leg up and down, then settled on holding it, while drawing circles on your knee. You didn’t think much of it until you had flashbacks of every piece of skin you saw today.

As you shifted your eyesight back to his hand, it made you wet. How his whole entire hand took up half of your leg and wrapped around it. You liked having a partner who was so much bigger and taller than you.

Without thinking, you picked it up and began to rub his hand. He peeked over at you, wrapped his hand around yours and kissed it. You brought his hand back to your lips, kissed the tips of each of them and began sucking on the tip of his thumb.

“What are you doing?” He asked softly.

“Nothing” you said innocently and continued to suck on the tip of his thumb. You slowly put more into your mouth, reaching his knuckle.

He kept driving, letting you enjoy it.

He stopped at a light, almost halfway to the house, and pulled his thumb out. A small pop emitted from your mouth. He grabbed your chin and curved his index and middle finger into your mouth now.

He took the hint now, you continued to suck.

However once the light turned green, he swiftly released his fingers and with one quick motion, and had gotten under your leggings and underwear.

You moaned. Pushed yourself further down the seat and opened your legs. Thankful that his windows were tinted and he drove an SUV.

“You’re so wet… just from sucking on my fingers?” He was acting so innocent.

You nodded, “your big fingers”

He had turned only slightly towards you, and turned back to the road. His two fingers doing the rest of the work. Softly running up and down your slit, then around your clit, back up and down, and then about to enter you, but pulling away to continue rubbing in circles.

“You’re gonna make a mess on the seat…”

You whined

He sucked on his teeth, then spoke softly,

“You don’t want to use your words today?”

You wanted to feel him inside you.

You moved your hips up towards his hand and he continued to rub you up and down, stretching his fingers into a v-shape, feeling your wet cunt, then back up, rubbing your clit in circles. The sounds emitted from your cunt we’re driving him crazy.

You moaned,

“please babe…”

You weren’t sure how much teasing you could take.

He pulled into the driveway, slapped your cunt.

You twitched, while he smirked,

“You know I’m better with my left.”

He turned the car off and made his way around to open the door for you. You pulled up your leggings and adjusted your underwear. Thankful that he lived up somewhere hidden away from everyone else.

He picks you up with one arm, and has the other arm underneath you. You curled your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. You began to suck on his neck and collarbone as he made his way toward the house.

“What's got into you?” He whispers, he starts moaning, “You need me schatz?”

“Are you two just getting in?!” A familiar voice chimes in. The two of you lost in the heat of the moment turned to look.

Your pesky neighbor out on her lawn laying cat food out for the raccoons.

König was not in the mood to engage in any conversation let alone the neighbor who always invited herself over and called him “Mr. King, Mr. Royalty” as a joke.

You took the hint. “Yes we are!” You replied. “Can you believe I twisted my ankle? We need to hurry inside to take care of it.”

“Now how did THAT happen? I have a good doctor!” she called out. “He makes house calls!”

He began to rub in between your legs while having a handful of your ass in one hand.

König was impatient mumbling in German “shut her up —I want your cunt on my mouth.”

“No need, thank you! We’re just gonna ice it and head into bed.”

“Goodnight!” You had quickly shouted.

Once inside, kicking off both shoes as he toed off on his own, he had rushed over to the bedroom. Pulling your top over your head, he dropped you on the bed and had his hands under pulling off your leggings.

You sat up on your knees and worked on pulling down his. As you pull his waistband down, his cock sprang up, erect on his stomach. You gather as much saliva in your mouth, lick your lips and shove it in.

He moans and tangles his hands in your hair

“You’re so eager baby,”

“Mmmmm I needed your cock in my mouth.”

You start to take him slow. Drag your tongue from end to tip, you swirl your tongue on it.

A gasp—Moans coming from his mouth as he scratched down your back and then grabbed a fist full of your hair. Now you begin to suck fast.

“Is this what you needed?” He’s gathered your hair to try and get a better look at you, but —

A sharp inhale. König cussing in German, he’s grabbing your hair now with two hands.

Christ, your mouth.

You can feel your own heat start to rise, bobbing your head up and down. Maybe your mouth can take a little more.

He cups your chin, it’s with a sudden pull of your hair that he now has you facing him,

“I want to taste you.”

You're pushed back on the bed, and he’s opening both your legs apart.

“I wasn’t done” you whine,

He settles himself in between your legs. He starts with small bites, biting your thighs and then sucking on them gently, he keeps going till he’s reached the middle, hovers his tongue over your clit, gives a quick peck, sending vibrations all over your cunt.

He smirks, continues sucking innocently on your thigh.

He stops, stares up at you.

He slowly brings his tongue out, flicks it gently in between your folds. His tongue is so big, it finds every nerve on you. The small gesture heightens your sensitivity.

“do you know I love feeling you on my tongue?”

He moans as he starts to suck on your clit, sending small sparks throughout your body.

“I love it, you’re so wet baby”

His hand reaches up your stomach, gently scratching down to your thighs. He flattens his tongue on your clit, proceeds to suck on it, then with his fingers gently fucks you. It’s a favorite of his, knowing it makes you even more wet. He can tell by how much your clit blossoms open, urging him to keep going.

You peek down at him, and he's got his eyes closed blissfully, taking his time with you, the sight of him always being so gentle with you, makes you gush, you can hear how wet you are, and he can feel it on his tongue too, slowly opening his eyes, peering up at you.

It’s at that moment that he smirks like the asshole that he is and asks you,

“You like watching me eat you out?” He’s got your slick over his mouth, his chin wet.

You bite your lip, excitement crawls into your body.

“You like how I eat this pussy?”

“I do, I really do.” is all you can whimper out.

“How bad do you want my cock? My fingers can’t be all you want.” he smirks at you, feeling how much more you gush in between your thighs.

You’re not letting him get away with it.

“Keep playing with my clit, your fingers are enough.”

This provokes him. He’s standing up, hovers on top of you, pinning your arms above your head with one hand, and then slowly rubbing his cock on you.

“You’re saying no to this?” he keeps rubbing his cock on you, feeling how wet you are, “jesus schatz, you’re so wet.”

Then an idea pops into his head. He orders you to turn around, you’re now facing the mirror in the room, he props your ass up, then slowly rubs your entrance again with his cock.

You don’t think there’s ever a moment to fully grasp how thick and big he really is until he slides into you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, relax for me baby.”

You’re staring at him in the mirror, his brows furrowed, as he holds your hips bucking into you.

“There you go baby, watch me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, feeling your tits bounce, feeling him slam against you, one hand holding you down between your shoulder blades.

“You said my fingers were enough?” he huffs, then spanks you, igniting a bigger spark between your legs.

“I’ll show you it’s not enough.”

You close your eyes, focusing on that spark that will soon become a heavy wave.

“Keep your eyes open schatz, watch me.”

It’s all too much, the weight of his hands, the thickness of his cock, how he’s so focused on thrusting into you, and the spot he’s aiming for. He pulls out suddenly, then starts to eat you from behind.

The sounds of his tongue working around your cunt drive you insane. You’re on all fours, legs spread open, clutching whatever is underneath you.

“Is my tongue enough?” He provokes you, knowing you get a rise out of it.

You grab the sheets of the bed, close your eyes, you’re so so close.

“K-könig!”

“Oh I can feel you — you’re gonna cum for me?”

He stops eating you from behind.

He pushes you on your back, your head dangling over the edge of the bed, still watching him from the mirror. He’s on his knees on the bed, his cock still so erect. He’s on top of you now, curled his arms around you, lining up against you, pushing his cock inside you.

“You drive me insane, you know that?” He’s kissing down your neck, thrusting into you, mumbling about

how good you feel, how tight you are, how wet you get for me, and it’s only him right? This pussy belongs to him?

and the wave of ecstasy rolls through you. Your heartbeat is racing, your body is radiating small pulses all over, small shocks to your legs, stomach, and clit— but he’s still going at it, praising you.

“That’s my girl, I know what you like.” He’s got one nipple in his mouth, sucking on it softly.

But from watching you come undone, how your hair is splayed across the sheets, your hands clutching his arms, he’s about to feel his own wave.

He pulls out, you towards him, grabbing your hair again, then gives an order–

“Open your mouth,” and he pumps himself into your mouth, watching it fill.

He laughs playfully, so turned on by how you obey him.

“You’re so dirty, swallow it.” and you do, keeping your eye contact with him.

He furrows his eyebrows, exhales, like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen you do.

A wave of elation settles between you two.

He strokes his fingertips up and down on your back. He’s not done. His cock twitches up a little realizing you might have to go again. Grabbing your face towards him, he tells you,

“Lets fill you up again schatz.”

#könig #könig x f!reader #könig cod #könig x y/n #könig modern warfare #konig x reader #cod könig #könig smut #könig mw2

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gghalcyon · 6 months

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König gives you precisely what you want. Rough. Crazed. And everything in between. Until you are screaming his name.

Title: Love Me Rough | Relationship: König x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit | Words: Part 1/1 (600 Words)

Hot breath tickles your ear as König's voice gasps, "I crave you." Your entire body melts into his embrace as the heat of his skin sears through you. You can feel every muscle, every tendon, as he holds you against him. There is a hunger in his eyes that mirrors your own. This isn't going to be a gentle union. You won't go slow or romantic. No chivalry here. This will be rough and hard; you both know what you're after.

You gaze into König's eyes; they are smoldering with desire, and your heart races in anticipation as you open your mouth to speak. "Fuck me," you breathe.

He doesn't need to be told twice; his lips are on yours before the words can even escape your throat. His hands move urgently over your body, leaving trails of electricity everywhere that he touches you. His grip is solid and firm, but it sends a thrill through you every time he brushes against your skin.

You tumble backward onto the floor, clothes forgotten on the way, your passion taking you further and further until you finally reach the bed.

Your skin is searing wherever his large, muscled form and rough hands touch you, and you feel yourself shudder with pleasure beneath him.

His breath is hot against your neck as he whispers, "I'll do anything for you." Then his lips crash back down onto yours as if to punctuate his declaration of devotion. His tongue touches yours, only making you wetter for him, yearning for him and wanting him so badly that you feel a craze take over you.

You need him inside of you, and you let him know as you stop his fingers from where they are at your slick and wet folds and over your sensitive bud he caresses with his thumb, making you wild.

"Take me, König. Please, take me now." You beg. Spreading your legs wide for him, grabbing his throbbing cock in your hand and positioning him in your warm entrance.

He does not hesitate. His lips are back on yours as he enters your body with one deep and powerful thrust. He moves inside you with an intensity you've never experienced before – like he wants to consume you completely - murmuring against your mouth amid heated, wet kisses, "I'm going to fuck you so hard until you're screaming my name."

The sensations of pleasure and pain radiate through you as König sets a punishing pace that leaves you breathless and panting for more. Your walls pulse around him, striving to pull him deeper, squeezing him tightly as if you want to keep him within you forever.

König's thrusts are relentless, powerful and passionate. With each one you soar higher until you're screaming his name in ecstasy.

He grabs onto your hips firmly, pushing himself deeper and deeper into you until you feel like a single being, with an unbreakable connection between the two of you.

Your orgasm comes faster than ever before and your breaths become ragged as the pleasure surges through every inch of your body. With one final plunge, König releases too, collapsing on top of you with blissful exhaustion.

You lie still for what feels like forever as you both struggle to catch your breath. When suddenly, König pulls away slightly so that your faces are mere inches apart and whispers against your lips, "I'm most alive when I'm with you."

Read More Stories @ Fanfiction Master List or G.G. Halcyon's AO3.

#gghalcyon #könig #könig cod #könig smut #könig fanfiction #könig x you #könig x f!reader #konig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig mw3

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confuseddipshit · 1 year

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saw this recipe and-

head empty no thoughts only cooking for könig on a rainy day to comfort him after someone mentioning his height under a negative light and he got really blue and like getting under a lot of weighted blankets (fr he loves them) and watching some light movies and cuddles and reassuring that hes 100% loving and perfect and-

thats it. im head over heels for a guy i know nothing about. pls someone write this.

#plot sharing #könig #könig x reader #modern warfare #könig moder warfare #könig x you #modern warfare ii #mwii #x reader #könig x f!reader #könig x m!reader #könig x gn!reader #konig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #x you #reader insert

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blingblong55 · 8 months

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Need more- König NSFW

Art belongs to: @kinky-thirsty-reader

Based on a request:

reader sitting on desperate!konigs face please i feel like he would be so shy about it but he would eat pussy so good

F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, mentions of face sitting, f!ngering

This man knows how to eat his meal and make a mess with it. He will have you on the couch, bed, side of the road, kitchen table or counter. Anywhere as long as his tongue is fucking into your cunt. His fingers are deep inside of you. Your moans and your juices that leak from you, making him cum in his trousers. Your clit is being abused by his tongue and fingers. Your hands pushing his face, and oh does he love when you do that. The way he looks at you as he eats you out, the hunger and desire for more of you, always makes him need that sweet taste of your cunt. Your slick coating his lips, the ones he licks after he had the privilege to eat you out.

Sometimes he has you before you drop him off at base before missions, other times he is at the side of the road when you pick him up from the base. He loves it when you wear your pink panties and how he slides them to the side or off your body when his needs get the best of him.

On days when he is actually shy about eating you out, that is when you know the orgasm will be better. He gets flustered, excited and nervous to even lift your skirt up. His face flushed, innocent look to him, a stuttering mess when you guide his fingers inside of you. "Meine Liebling, I-is this..this okay?" he says as he rubs your clit, one look from you or a moan and he is a mess. He licks and kisses your pussy, always whispering how much he loves you and the taste of it all. His eyes are closed when he is enjoying eating you out. The room dimmed making him more and more needy. His hands wrapped around your thighs as he keeps your legs open for him.

Once he has made you cum at least twice he smiles and opens his eyes, "I love it when you are like this, Meine Liebling." two more fingers inside of you. You squirm and moan, feeding his inner desires. He sometimes makes you ride his face, but that is only when he knows you deserve a reward after taking him all night. Your inner thighs are always covered with love bites or hickeys, only for him to see. At times, he gets on his knees and eats you out just like that, but it's always in front of a mirror because he loves it when you watch yourself cum and moan.

Days when he is overstimulated and when he is eating you out is when you see him cry. He loves how much you praise him, he adores how you stroke his hair away from his face or how you nod and smile as you watch him eat you out. His favourite view is watching you get drunk on orgasms. Your smooth skin, your thick thighs and your pussy, that is what motivates this man to always fight to come home.

Tags: @liyanahelena

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poquiii · 1 year

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König x reader / Ghost x reader headcanons

You're sitting on their lap.

Ghost

● He's not a fan of PDA and acts cold in public.

● But when you're alone, he likes bodily contact with you.

● You walk by and he grabs you by the waist, pulling you toward him and gently placing you in his lap.

● He likes to feel your weight on his muscular thighs.

● He touches your ear with his lips and tickles your skin with his breath.

● You giggle and he presses you closer to him.

● If you start fidgeting on him, (on purpose or not) he quickly swaps places with you and pushes you under him. And of course you don't mind.

König

● He really likes your touch in any form.

● And he especially loves the way you sit on his lap with your arms around his neck.

● You weigh almost nothing to him or he just doesn't notice it.

● He loves to hug you back and nuzzle you against his huge chest.

● He loves to interrupt your hair with his fingers.

● If you fall asleep in his arms, he's happy to doze off with you.

● He's willing to sit with you like this for hours.

● And even when his feet get stiff, he won't let you get off him.

My AO3 🖤

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ghouljams · 4 months

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With Love, König tags: König x f!reader/f!oc, regency era au, manners, collaring, courting, king!König, reader is mildly insane, König is going to marry you and that's a threat Summary: Your fiance runs off, your reputation is in ruins, and worst of all König has decided he's going to make you his queen. He doesn't even ask your father's permission to do it.

You receive word that your fiance has left you in the short hours of the morning. It comes in a carefully folded note, with his seal, and his signature. It's cruel, but not unexpected. You'd known for long enough that this was an engagement for nothing but your title. Still, you shed a few tears onto the parchment at the loss of your future, bleak as it might have been. You can rest assured that your parents, and the rest of the social world, have already received the news. You expect they'll start looking for another match for you soon.

The second letter is somehow more surprising. You don't recognize the black wax seal, or the handwriting. You don't know how it slipped past your family without being opened, but it's tucked on the same tray as your fiance's letter and you break the seal with cautious fingers.

"My Heart," it begins, and you frown at the familiarity, "You have bewitched me, body and soul. My every hour is spent with thoughts of you. The memory of your touch is only remedied by my own hand, and even that is not enough. I hope that you will accept this small token of thanks for the dance we shared, and look forward to our next meeting with the same fervor I do."

You look up from the letter to stare at the wall. You narrow your eyes at the wallpaper and do your best to try and think of who the fuck is sending you love letters. Certainly not your ex-fiance, he never did more than send you a note asking you to wear something "more appropriate" for the next party. You look back at the letter. It's a bit stuck at the bottom, likely to keep whatever token it contains in place. You slip your finger carefully under the edge of the fold to open it. A silk ribbon flutters onto your lap as you stare down at the king's signature. "With Love, König" in perfect royal handwriting.

You scramble to ring for your maid, you need to get dresses and you need to speak to your father immediately. Your maid seems to either not know or not care that you are received a letter from a king because she helps you get ready with her usual compliments and coos. Disinterested in the day ahead of you, you always assume. She ties the ribbon behind your ears when you ask her what to do with it. The black clashes, but you don't have time to argue.

König is already in the sitting room with your father when you finally make it downstairs. He stands almost as quickly as you drop into a low curtsy. Your father stands too and you're taken aback by how small he looks next to König. Your father has always been a proud man, a man to be feared as much as respected, but next to König he may as well be a child. You drop your eyes to the floor, proper and polite.

"Gott in himmel," König breathes, and your eyes dart to him. His brows are drawn together, like he's in pain. You can't tell if he's displeased when you can only see half of his face, his mouth obscured by a dark black cloth. You meet his eyes and are quick to avert your gaze, lest the heat in his burns you.

You rise from your curtsy and keep your eyes on the floor. "My lord," you greet, and hear him hum. He's pleased you think.

"My lady," The way he stresses "my" makes you shiver, his lady, "look at me when I speak to you." You're quick to follow his command, the tightness in his tone is intriguing, but you can't see a reason for it when you do look up at him.

Your father attempts to raise issue when König stalks towards you, his voice drowned out by the way the king fills your vision. You barely flinch when he grabs your chin, and turns your head. His skin against yours is unfamiliar and rough, it makes your skin prickle with heat as he sighs.

"You're wearing this wrong, Hummelchen," He tells you, his free hand going to tug at the end of the ribbon around your head. The black silk is tugged loose, falling delicately into König's grip. His thumb teases your lower lip, improper and entirely hidden from your father. "You want to wear this right for me, ja?"

You open your mouth to answer and he pushes his thumb between your lips, presses down against your tongue to hold you open. Your eyes dart in your father's direction, panic rising in your chest. König's eyes crease at the edges, he tips his head to watch your tongue try to work under his grip. You settle for swallowing, your lips closing around his finger as you nod your head. What else can you do in the face of a king?

"Braves Mädchen," He praises sending another prickle of heat over your skin. You feel like all your manners are just being thrown out the window, it's making your head spin. His grip loosens, his thumb sliding out from between your lips to smear the wetness against your hot cheek. Warmth pools between your legs, entirely too familiar, and entirely his fault.

König makes a twirling motion with his finger, and you don't hesitate to turn. You can hear his fingers pulling the length of ribbon between his hands, and you're glad to have your hair off your neck when he loops the ribbon around your throat. You have to tip your chin up, you have the sudden --and startlingly appealing-- thought that he could very easily choke you like this. König's fingers pull the ribbon tight, and you make a quiet noise of... protest? Approval? You make a noise, and it loosens just enough to be comfortable. He's quick to tie a neat bow, the tails of it hanging on either side of your spine. You touch your fingers to the silk. Like a collar.

König's fingers linger on your neck, and you tilt your head to afford him space to touch. Each brush of his skin makes your heart race, this monster of a man is so gentle with you. As if you were some treasure he could hardly afford. He curls over you, one of his hands sliding down your arm. He grips your wrist tight, and raises it to his lips. You turn your head to watch him, his eyes are dark when he catches you staring. His teeth flash dangerously in the light where they scrape against your pulse. Not so gentle then.

"You will accompany me to the next party," He leaves no room for argument in his command, states it like a fact predetermined by God, "We'll announce our engagement there."

"Your what?" You father asks behind König, aghast at the breach in conduct. You hardly notice it, entranced by the way he presses his cheek into your palm.

"Kay," You breathe for him. He's just like one of the heroes from your penny novels, better for being real. You wonder if he's ever killed anyone, he'd look good with a little blood on him.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #König x oc #könig x f!reader #f!reader #regency au #king!König #oc: Bee #Bee I'm begging you #just notice one red flag PLEASE #Girl he's going to fucking get you

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ivysoul · 10 months

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older bf!könig and his insatiable desire to ruin you. he loves the idea of introducing new kinks to you, teaching you all the ways a person could find pleasure, doing things to you that none of your past partners even wanted to do. he loves the thought of having you ride him in front of a mirror so you can watch his massive cock glide in and out of your sopping cunt. or babbling to you in bed as he praises you, compiling all the words and phrases that make your eyes roll back and your cunt flutter so he can use them nonchalantly during everyday tasks, just because he loves seeing your body freeze for that split second and the blush that covers your cheeks afterwards. and breeding you, cumming in you so deep over and over. mumbling incoherent words that sound a little too similar to “gonna breed you, maus. get you all swelled ‘n’ full of my seed.”

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 📁 ꒰ könig ! ⊹˚. ♡ ꒱#late night thots bc i can’t sleep #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig modern warfare #könig x reader #könig x f!reader #könig smut

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nova-amor · 6 months

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༘☁︎⋆ ◜ 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 ◞

könig was tired. after a long day of training and monitoring new recruits, his social battery was drained, and his muscles were beyond sore. he was desperate to get home— the idea of drinking a couple of beers and nuzzling his face into your chest serving as the last ounce of motivation to get him through the rest of the day.

"schatzi?" könig called out into the foyer of your home, abandoning his combat boots and gym bag by the front door. with every step, his feet began to feel heavier— practically dragging themselves across the floor by the time he got to your shared bedroom.

pillows of steam rolled out from under the bathroom door as he made his way into the bedroom, the warm clouds an indication that you were in the shower. he tossed his uniform blouse and gloves onto the bed, his curiosity certainly peaked.

"schatzi?" he knocked on the door lightly, waiting a few beats for a reply. and, when there was none, anxiety began to brew in his mind. how long had you been in the shower? had you fallen because of the water floor? were you drowning under the shower stream? he knocked one more time before announcing: "schatzi, i'm going to come in, okay?"

as soon as he cracked the bathroom door open, he was met with a heavenly sight— your gorgeous body wrapped in a thick blanket of steam, one hand squeezing your breast as the other rubbed sloppy circles around your clit. your eyes pinched close, and soft chants of his name leaving your lips.

a surge of energy coursed through him, his body instinctively taking swift yet inaudible steps towards you. it wasn't until the glass shower door slid open that you finally noticed his presence, his blue eyes darkening as a knowing smirk crossed his lips.

"am i interrupting something, kätzchen?" könig teased, the startled expression on your face only adding fuel to the fire growing within him.

"könig— i didn't hear you get home," a wave of embarrassment washed over you, watching with wide eyes as your husband enclosed himself in the shower with you. he was still wearing his uniform, the shower water soaking through his camouflage pants and tan shirt, not that he really cared. "would've greeted you properly if i knew."

könig's hands grabbed at your waist, pinning your body between him and the cool tiled wall behind you. his arousal was evident, his wet pants barely able to conceal the erection stirring beneath the fabric. you could feel it against your abdomen, your pussy beginning to tingle at the idea of him taking you right then and there.

"you greeted me just fine, kätzchen, 's not every day i get to see you pleasuring yourself," he hoisted you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist for support. "you were thinking about this exact scenario, ja?"

one of his hands moved up the length of your body, his calloused hand kneading the underside of your wet breast. "thinkin' about my hands playing with these pretty tits?" his head dipped down to pepper kisses along the curve of your neck. "thinkin' about my lips kissing up your neck? leaving little bite marks and sucking— right— here."

you inhaled sharply, craning your neck further to the side to allow könig more access, his lips latched to your pulse point. you bucked your hips into him, the rough cloth of his shirt providing you with just enough clitoral stimulation to make you see stars.

"yes, ohmygod— yes," your fingers laced into his hair, tugging at the short auburn strands. könig began to feast on your skin, lapping at your neck with the flat of his tongue while, his fingers pinched and twisted your puffy nipples. "need you, könig, been thinkin' about you all day. couldn't wait for you t' get home—"

könig licked his lips, slowly pulling away to meet your lustful gaze. his hand abandoned your nipple to dive underneath your thighs, rubbing the tips of his fingers along your wet folds. he gathered up your arousal, smearing it all along your slit.

"mmm, i knew it, kätzchen," his fingers dipped into your entrance until he was knuckle deep, your tight walls clamping down on the thick digits. your jaw went slack, a guttural moan escaping from the depths of your throat as he stretched you out with just two of his fingers. "don't worry, schatzi, i'll take good care of you. i'm just lending a helping hand, ja?"

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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hi! i love your writing and was wondering if you could do a könig x reader where the reader is giving birth to their baby but it’s a hard birth and könig pushes his anxiety away to help coach her through it?❤️

So This Is Love | König x Wife!AFAB!Reader

a/n: you know me. i was literally thinking about writing something about könig and a baby. nonnie i’ll love you forever. i’ll write a family fic for könig too if people want it 😭 i love him so much. (thank you @as-is-above-so-below for the baby name, you are amazing)

warnings: Childbirth, pregnancy, a lot of anxiety.

summary: It’s time for you and your husband, König, to meet your new baby. It’s just that you are panicking, and König needs to keep you calm.

König stirred awake to a dark bedroom, eyes blinking to adjust to the darkness. He turned to look at the digital clock on his nightstand, its red numbers blinking 01:56 AM. He rolled back over, hand reaching for you on the right side of the bed, but found only warm sheets. His eyes really opened then, he sat up quickly and reached backwards for the lamp. It clicked on, illuminating the bedroom and your empty side of the bed. He saw a large wet spot just a few inches from his hand, he moved quickly off the bed as he called your name. It couldn’t be time, you weren’t due for another couple of weeks - his heart began to race even as he heard your voice from the bathroom.

He made it in four strides, almost slamming his head on the door frame when he darted into the bathroom. The panic in chest only increased as he found you sitting on the floor, back against the tub with a towel underneath you. He was instantly beside you, kneeling and placing one of his hands on your swollen belly. “What happened?”

The tears that ran down your face only made his entire body grow dizzy, your hand rested on his as you whispered, “My water broke.”

König felt his resolve crumble under his skin, panic bells ringing in his ear as he spoke, “You’re not-“

“Due for a couple of weeks, I know,” You winced, eyes fluttered shut as you let out a breathy groan. “Tell your baby to stop hitting my ribs.”

His blue eyes flickered down to your belly, only taking just a moment to collect himself before he leaned closer, saying, “Du tust deiner Mutter weh, du wirst uns bald treffen, mein Baby.” He pressed a kiss to your belly, eyes looking back up to you. He flexed his other hand into a fist, trying to get his focus off of his racing heartbeat. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”

You shook your head, letting out a loud groan and taking his hand into your own. “F-Fuck-“ You panted out, your other hand instinctively reached for his other as well. He immediately gave it to you. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

—

König’s entire body was on emergency mode, he could barely even breathe the whole time you had been in labor. Catering to your every need no matter how small helped a little, but the intense pain you were in because of his child made him almost vomit.

36 hours of labor have come and gone, spent sitting on a exercise ball and watching TV, or eating crisps on your hospital bed while he massaged your feet. The baby in your belly seemed content in causing you pain, kicking your kidneys whenever you had a contraction. The sweetheart you were, you never told him that it was his fault that you were this way - but boy was he thinking it. Every tiny discomfort almost had him crying out of anxiety; he had spent countless years in battle and has seen people in pain, but he never wanted to hear moans of agony come from your lips.

He hadn’t even settled on a name yet. You were so patient, you didn’t want to name this baby a name that he didn’t like. He begged for your suggestions, but you refused - saying, “Any name I say you’ll just agree with. Find your own.”

He sat with you now, he felt it was getting closer to meeting his first child. The nurse was fluttering about, a sweet young woman who didn’t ease his nerves at all. It may have been the thousandth baby she’s delivered, but this is his first child and the first she would be delivering with you. He had already chewed down his nails, he had to force himself to stop before he made himself bleed.

“Baby,” You murmured your warm bed, he was sat right behind you, his head right next to your arm as your hand reached for his head. “Baby.”

“Yes?” He whispered, moving his hand to intercept yours, holding it before you squeezed his hand.

“I need you.”

He’s spent months and months thinking of all the terrible things that could go wrong with you and the baby, he was still uncharacteristically calm. He wanted to be at the hospital with you, but you were against it - he did as you said. So here you were in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and monitors. He was quick to stand, help you move forwards so he could sit behind you. The mattress was almost soft, he noted, and he felt upset that he even suggested coming to the hospital. He wasn’t used to any of this, the clench of his lungs in his chest made him nauseous. Your back curled into his chest, his hands immediately settled on your pregnant belly. He could immediately feel his baby respond to his touch, kicking and making you grunt in pain. Your hands then moved to on top of his, squeezing them.

“It hurts, König,” Your words stung him like a wasp, infecting his skin and blood with red hot venom. He pressed kisses to your hair that was thrown up messily before leaning forwards, moving his hands so your palms met.

“It’s okay, my love,” He murmured, squeezing your hands as you squeezed back, letting out a loud whine of pain. “Breathe for me, Schatzi. Come on.”

“I can’t.” You groaned out, head thrown back into his shoulder as you squeezed his hands so hard. The nurse moved towards the bed, one hand on one of your knees.

“I’m gonna see if I can feel the head, okay?” She spoke calmly, all you could do was nod and the soldier stared at the woman as she reached down between your legs. Your hands moved to bring his arms around your chest, eyes also glancing down at the woman before she moved back, a smile on her face. “You’re going to need to start pushing soon. Not right now, so prepare yourself.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Your small voice broke König’s heart. He tightened his arms around your chest, your hands gripped his forearms.

He swallowed, fending off his anxiety from swelling his throat as he spoke, “You can, Liebling. And I’ll be right here, I won’t let you go. Squeeze me as hard as you need.”

There was a knock on the door and it opened, revealing your short doctor with a mask on her face and hair pulled into a fabric surgical cap. Behind her were two more nurses, both in pink scrubs and wheeling in a bassinet. He felt like everything in his body was going to explode.

This was really happening. Soon, he was going to be a father to a little girl or a little boy - and he hadn’t even told you the names he liked.

“Let’s have a baby! How are you doing?” Your doctor was as happy as ever, something König wasn’t always fond of.

Your hands squeezed his forearms, a grunt escaped from between your gritted teeth.“Like I’m pushing a baby out of my vagina.”

“Always the chipper one, then?” The doctor smirked, commenting, “I’m gonna check and see where the little one is, okay?” She lifted the paper blanket and then looked back to her nurses, then to König. She nodded curtly before looking to you, saying, “It’s go time. I can see the baby’s head.”

König physically felt you freeze for a moment, he was stunned himself and he felt his diaphragm squeeze. This was the last time König would ever be just someone - soon, he would be someone’s father. And he would do better than his own, better than the man who abandoned his family and ruined his only son.

You let out a yelp, hands still holding onto his forearms as the doctor spoke, “Alright, let’s push.”

“No, no no! I’m not- Ready-“ Your chest curled forwards, a loud whine of pain as you dragged your husband forward by his arms secured around you. “I want-“

“It’s too late for any pain meds, I’m sorry.” Your doctor gave you a sympathetic gaze before looking back between your legs. Another jolt of pain had you screaming out, the doctor telling you to push but all you did was let out a cry of pain. “C’mon, sweetheart. Your baby’s almost here, you can do it.”

“I can’t!” You shouted back, voice laced with agony as you collapsed backwards into your husband, sobs racking your entire chest as you squeezed his arms. “Fuck, König, please- Please make it stop.”

You were always the strong one in the relationship, level headed and wise; something König admired and those traits helped keep him grounded when he was getting into one of his attacks. But now, it was like the roles reversed - you were panicking, in pain, wanting to stop but he knew you couldn’t. He pressed his forehead to the crown of your head, speaking over your loud moans and the doctor’s commands. “You’re going to give us the best thing we’ve ever been given, our child. I’m going to hold them and think about how strong you were for creating a little life with me. You’re going to be in so much pain for me, I’m sorry, my Schatzi. But you have always been strong, always held your head in the face of danger. Just a little longer.”

“Ah-fuck! Fuck, fuck- No, no, no I can’t- I can’t-“ Your nails dug into his skin, your torso shot forwards as you let out a loud cry of pain. He followed suit, letting your nails draw blood from his arm.

He pressed a kiss to your messy hair, it was almost matted. “You can, Schatzi. Und das wirst du.” He made a note to help you brush your hair when you were resting, but now all he could do was watch the doctor and nurses await the arrival of his child.

“One more push, Y/N.” Your doctor’s voice was calm, the nurses waiting beside her with supplies that König didn’t care to look at. He kept his hold, letting you squeeze his arms around you as you cried.

“I can’t- I can’t anymore.”

“Yes, you can.” He spoke, his voice echoed over your grunts, the loud pants from your mouth almost drowned out him saying, “You’re strong, Schatzi. Stark. We’re doing this together, always.”

It was only a moment longer, a last scream of pain and nails digging into skin, crescent moons tattooed his arms. There was a moment, just a moment where your open backed hospital gown hit his grey undershirt, your nails no longer going for blood. In that moment, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear with a bated breath, arms looser around you while your arms went slack and your head rolled back into König’s shoulder.

A shrill sound. Sighs of relief from everyone in the room as the recognizable sound of a baby crying filled the silence, the doctor happily chirping as the nurses began to help your baby. Your eyes felt so heavy, it was hard to keep them somewhat open but you still did it, the sheer adrenaline of wanting to see the baby you’ve been humming to for nine months. You wanted to see the creature who liked to kick you in your sleep at the exact same time of night, the baby who liked to move whenever your husband placed his hand upon the swell of your stomach.

The nurses moved away as your doctor held up the little baby with both hands, “It’s a girl!”

“Do you want to cut the cord, Dad?” One of the nurses asked, König pressed the side of his head to your head. He could feel just how tired you were, he wouldn’t leave you now.

He met the gaze of the nurse, saying, “No. My wife still needs me here.” You let out a noise of gratitude, heavy pants still escaping your lips. The parents watched the cord be snipped, the little girl be wiped down a little before wrapped in a soft pink blanket - the nurse who had been with you almost the whole time had come forward with the little creature, helping you move down your hospital gown so your baby could rest on your skin and help bonding.

The little girl let out tiny shrieks with all of her breath, face becoming shades darker as your weak hands came to cradle your daughter. She had your beautiful skin tone, a small little thing that would’ve fit in the palms of König’s hands. You tried to hush the baby, calm her, but she kept crying. It wasn’t until he spoke only a few words, “Hello, my little bird.”

She squealed out another cry, her eyes blinking open to display eyes that looked exactly like his. Beautiful gray eyes that would follow him for years, little hands that he would hold for years to come. The baby began to calm down as soon as her eyes opened, blinking slowly up to look at König before her gaze landed on you.

Her little hand moved towards your head, but it didn’t raise from your sweaty skin. Her eyes watched you as a small yet exhausted smile appeared on your lips, one that König wouldn’t see until later when one of the nurses shows him the picture. All he would know of was the little coo his daughter made as you whispered, “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Sie ist schön, just like her mama.” He murmured, keeping his hands on your sides. He felt that he was almost too big to touch the baby on his wife’s chest - she was a normal sized baby, but he was still so overly conscious of his size. He didn’t ever want to hurt the little creature he met only moments ago.

“What did you name her, my love?” He was brought out of his head by the sound of your voice, the little girl’s eyes never moved from your face.

He pressed his lips to your hair. “Avis.”

“And her middle name will be Amelia.”

“Meine Omas Namen?” He chuckled, his hands gently rubbing your sides. “Oh, how no one would ever love me like you.”

Little Avis agreed by letting out a little yawn, eyes fluttered closed. Your head moved to the side, he could clearly see the tears that had fallen since your child had been placed in your grasp. His hand came to your cheeks, a kiss from his lips was planted on your nose.

“We did it.” The breath you were holding escaped your lungs, crystal tears filled your eyes. “Avis Amelia.”

“Look at our daughter. Unsere Tochter.” You gazed back at your beautiful daughter, sniffling before König’s familiar fingers brought your face to look back at his. “You did so well, do not cry these tears, your beautiful face doesn’t need to be tearful.” His thumb traced a tear away from your cheek, gray eyes flickering to meet yours before closing. He leaned forwards to meet his forehead with yours, still brushing away tears. “I will cry them for you.”

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comfortless · 2 months

Text

Only Other

chapter one of three.

Goth soldier! König x fem, Roman! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical au (set around 350BC); potential inaccuracies as i am no historian!, König speaks some German here (as opposed to Gothic), mutual pining & worship, mentions of an arranged marriage with a large age gap, slight sexism, descriptions of gore, groping, dubcon sword/knifeplay. additional warnings will be added to the next two chapters.

notes: for @writersdrug’s request. ^^

wc: 11k.

The barbarians are here.

The dream of river water lapping over your knees and songbirds in swaying trees fades out into a hazy fog as you begin to rise, dropping your legs from the mattress to spur yourself to move across the small room as quietly as your feet can carry you.

Heavy footfalls and staggering hoof beats from their horses weighed down by heavy sacks of supplies is what has pulled you from sleep.

The flames of their torches crackle, accompanied by the shrieks of clanging, well-polished metals singing out as if in the throes of war becomes a dull song; weapons, wicked and crudely crafted unlike the spears of the soldiers donned in red you were so accustomed to by now.

You had heard the whispers on the wind of the untamed beasts from Germania filtering in, settling down here; their arms and their blood for just a sliver of land to claim, soil to birth farmland, a semblance of peace from within the walls of the great empire.

Never, in these small words from gossiping tongues, did you suspect that these rugged men would be taking to camp so very close to your city. Not only that… they’ve been accepted into the walls, the door flung open for them with their gnashing teeth and thick, ugly weapons. These men of myth were usually set further out into the countryside, far from view of polite people to sow seed in soft fields, build the little shacks that seemed far too fragile for their rugged forms that could never compare to the villas built here.

Peering over the sill of the open window, stretching your upper half out into crisp night air to catch a glimpse of torches sailing along the breeze, flames just as ever-shifting as their darkened silhouettes, your breath seems to halt entirely. They look the trueness of harbingers like this: each somehow more imposing than the one they follow behind. You count only two horses split between the eight men of this small band.

Could any of them even speak in your tongue?

What stories could they tell?

Had any of them ventured as far as the sea or had they only bathed in waves of warm blood?

With eyes wide, you even dare to perch there to watch on, never bothering to conceal your underclothes with the faith that the darkness would hide away anything more than a illusory view of your shape.

Through the faint glow of the yellow-red flickering flames, your gaze drifts to something large, hulking and brutish, darker still against the backdrop of a sable horizon.

The shadow walks in line with the others, their proud and raucous foreign voices feathering through the otherwise quieted air… only he does not speak, does not make a single utterance of mirth or glee. He stares only forward as his feet tread on just paces behind the rest of the group.

Nine, then.

Like the tales you’ve heard of the Goths, you’ve also listened in on the children spinning wild stories of monsters, the legends of heroes of old slaying cruel beasts told by their elders. You had always believed them, even without the evidence currently striding through the sleeping streets, dark like a crypt, like the underworld itself. A true titan.

Just as your eyes track the brooding, silent form, he abruptly turns his head in your direction.

The glow of a nearby torch paints the shrouded face in the color of a dying sun, casts a glint on the thick seax strapped to his hip.

In that moment, it isn’t wonderment curling through your blood, but surprise, maybe even a tinge of fear.

Your heart hammers as you pull yourself from the window to whisper hurried, hushed prayers to Juno, protectress of women, as you reject your curious nature and climb back into your bed. You’ll bring your offerings to her altar just as any devout: incense and a sweet pastry so long as she keeps you safe, chaste.

Buried beneath cushions stuffed with straw and thin fabric sheets to tuck yourself away, you wish only to return to dreaming of the river’s silt beneath your feet and colorful birds parading past in the open air that smells only of violets and honey.

Instead, you dream of fire.

You dream of the city bathed in gold, molten and angry as the walls come down around you.

You watch as your neighbors, friends, all begin to writhe and shriek as their skin begins to blister, boil beneath until it melts layer by precious layer to puddle like oil where feet once stood until the mighty, wraithful scorch takes even that away too. What once was human becomes smoke: women, men, children, it made no difference. It all becomes a mighty roaring flame as the structures wail and crumble around you.

Yet, you remain untouched.

Dawn breaks with the puppets sewn in shadow all but entirely forgotten, washed away in the fearsome tides of your own dreaming.

You startle and bolt upright as you wipe cold sweat from your brow with the back of your hand.

You’re no oracle: it’s just a dream… Vulcan would never turn his fiery gaze to your people after you’ve all honored him so, the offerings paid at his altar had been plentiful this past year with the steady expansion of the empire and the need for well-smithed weapons.

There were no volcanoes here to sweep away your life with magma and sulfur… only the lemures that haunted old shacks with their wailing had paid a visit to you last night. You let them in with your fears, and you would ward them away next with your courage.

The sun’s warmth creeps its way in, sweeps up from your blanketed legs until it curls and caresses at your cheek. From its positioning, proud and impossibly high in the sky it’s almost as though Sol himself were staring down at you, radiant yet scolding.

You’ve overslept.

Hurriedly, you ready yourself for the day, cinching your waist, clasping the shoulder of the stola, and dutifully washing your face with still water held in a clay pot. There was little else to do than bide your time with tedium: the animals loitering about needed tending to, a neglected sewing project lay strewn across the floor that had long-awaited its completion, and as the questions began to stir in your mind again… perhaps, gods willing, you would safely be gifted the opportunity to peek at the barbarian camp. To see that peculiar titan that they kept tethered at their sides.

It was dangerous and unheard of for a maiden, of course, but with little else to do than work and practice stitching threads for a betrothed you held no true affection for, this was a significant reprieve from the humdrum of what was scrawled out into the stars.

You weren’t given the luxury of further studies and communing with the aristocrats at their hearty banquets, sipping wine and prattling onwards about politics and how to further Rome as a whole. A part of you preferred this simple life of taking to the street, to peruse the market with what little money you held clutched in your palm, to pet the horses and watch as bulls sparred out in the fields beyond. Returning home to an empty house was a comfort, too.

As always, the market is a lively place, full to bursting with people exchanging anything under the sun, either beneath painted wooden stalls or from the first floor of their very homes, all with very little regard for you.

The city was simply too full to take in every name and face, and only their chatter seemed to intrigue you anyhow. You didn’t need a scroll or a song about each individual, your people were easy enough to read: war, pride, and duty all embedded into their very blood. The only ones that drew your attention were the poets and bards, entertainers who spun their stories of lives vastly different from your own… but there were none awaiting coin on the streets today.

A man passes with his wife at his side, loudly bolstering onward about his progress on some expedition.

Women with flowers woven into the braids of their hair laugh softly behind their palms as they exchange their secrets in singsong whispers.

The children play and pocket with eager palms when salesmen are unaware, likely to be caught later on and have their hands whipped raw.

There’s no talk of the Goths.

With these foreign men, most of your people seemed unbothered, taking solace in the knowledge that the empire’s cavalry would ride to strike down any opposition. A tentative, arrogant sort of comfort that you knew very well not to trust entirely. Most were simply not as educated on the potential of what could be, hadn’t snuck around on quiet feet to listen in on the men discussing failed treaties and negotiations.

The Goths could find their own food, their own women and shelters after fighting for the empire for a time: likely what they were here to do… give up their lives in exchange for a sliver of a Roman dream. A band as small as the one you witnessed could never quite hope to topple an empire, anyhow.

That sense of safety brought forth disinterest and smug little grins with little else to say, whereas your mind only took to further conjuring curiosity.

The more you wander the more you question whether you saw them at all, or if they were mere specters, already slain and silenced on some field far off from here, long dead and forgotten by all but the sleep-addled mind of a maiden.

You’ve never felt so disheartened. Though the city remained constantly bustling and full of intrigue when you knew where to look, these days the ease of it all only seemed to further the boredom. If nothing were to come, it would be no surprise to find that Juno would serve her purpose, looking after all with her blessings. You almost regret calling for her safety last night.

If the barbarians were indeed real, had some plot to overthrow an empire with their small numbers, perhaps only a vulture would be pleased with your thoughts now: teetering on the cusp of anticipation and wonder. You would never think yourself treasonous, but to learn, to see more… Your appetite for something further than a life spent sewing and child-rearing after marrying a man that made your skin prickle with distaste in the coming winter was rational.

Maybe not to most, but to you.

The fruit stall pulls you from thought with its sappy, honey-sweet scent and brilliant colors littered in crates: reds, greens, even some soft and blue… You only then notice you’ve been standing entirely still here, lost in thought, as if expecting a bolt of lightning to split the world in two.

Two apricots were purchased, one for you and the other for the gray mare in the stable you had grown fond of. You give the merchant a smile and a few bronze coins and carry on your way, nibbling at one of the fruits on your walk.

There were usually servants tending to the horses just beyond the city's paved streets, but it seemed today they were busy with other affairs: Quinquatria would be upon the city soon, and there was much to prepare for such an important festival. The place was empty all apart from yourself and the horses, some off in the fields to gallop to their heart’s content, while others like your mare, secured by wooden gates and paddocks.

You feed her, cooing gently as she takes the pitted fruit from your hand and between her blunt teeth; then, allows you to lead her into the grass with your honeyed words and languid steps.

One day, you hoped to have the opportunity to ride her, perhaps far away to touch the waters of the ocean, to see the foreign trees in some great adventure that would leave you more fulfilled. Ideally, without being weighed down heavy with child.

Your hand strokes at her nose before she begins to tense, eyes wandering from your form to something just beyond, far off and nestled in tall, fluttering grass and small bushes. You track her gaze for a moment, finally turning to look over your shoulder.

The wind has the tops of the trees swaying along the hills, grass pushed down to kiss the earth with each flutter of air. It all smells and feels so gentle, carrying the scent of wildflowers and the soil and salt of the earth itself. Ceres would have found herself prideful at the sight; everything rich and lush with the spring… Harvests would be bountiful this year, and everyone would be well-fed and contented. It’s no surprise that after pilfering through old calendars and running his tests upon the soil, Gaius had declared that this was the year he would take you to be his wife.

Past the expanse of soft blossoms and a cavalcade of greenery, all sweeping and rolling, a beauty that would stifle anyone should they think to look hard enough… but amidst all of this sits a man that you recognize immediately. Though he remains utterly faceless, his stature is somehow enough to make a gladiator blush and turn tail in shame.

There, just where the hill dips down and gives way to the soft rush of the stream, sits your warrior. His head is lowered as he crouches by the water, hands tucked to his front as he busies himself with something in his lap. The bare expanse of his back presented to you is unfathomable even from such a distance.

The men from Germania were said to be huge, dwarfing those that you were accustomed to by lengths, tall and thick like the weapons that they carry. They were said to be handsome, too… and like some hazy dream you were already certain that he was, somehow, beneath the pelt tied round his waist to keep him warmed at night, the sable shroud hanging over his head as he works away at sharpening the blade laying over his lap.

Your legs feel weak like a freshly birthed lamb’s as you watch him; the muscles of his bare arms bulging and quivering, his nude back tensing with effort. The soft rays of the sun beaming down only seem to paint him golden, untouchable except by higherborn women and men who could pay well to have him dirty his blade or his cock. Radiant, cruel, maybe even a bastard son of Mars himself, because what better a place for a man so vast and laden with scar tissue to be than in the midst of some great war.

Someone like this, you know with a certainty, would have no time for fickle maidens with their heads filled with the fluff of fantasies, and in a way that only seems to solidify a plume of possessiveness stirred up within your head.

You wonder even, if he calls to Vulcan as he pauses to hold his blade up to the sun to marvel at his work, the sharpened silver glinting in the light. The weapon casts its rays to only further illuminate the paleness of his flesh, coupled with the gleam of the flowing water ebbing past it only serves to make him look the very picture of those old stories and myths. The older women in the city would have tapestries embroidered of this scene, no doubt, if they could see through your eyes now.

Your horse trots off, satisfied that there is no true threat here, and you feel yourself begin to creep forward.

The gods and goddesses must play their tricks, because you are no fool. The pull only feels undeniable, something that you could not fight with a stern will alone. You pacify your impromptu decision with the thought that you could turn away at any point in the meters it would take to reach him. Surely, if he turned to face you before then that same fear from the night before would come to surface and you would sprint, startled and wary.

Perhaps he would even give chase…

There’s no excitement to be held on him, either acutely unaware or ignoring your presence entirely as you draw ever-closer. The grass softens your footsteps, the breeze blanketing any sound from each shift of your legs beneath the linen stola. You’re near silent in your approach, only halting where the hill crests over the bank several paces away from where he remains seated.

Only then does he turn to look your way.

There’s no greeting, no display of friendliness. His body language remains closed off, distant, like that of a wolf in cautious preparation; deciding whether or not it would be necessary to bare his teeth, to snap and growl until your flesh rends beneath him.

So it’s left up to you and to Juno who remains harbored in your heart. The goddess would protect you most assuredly, you’ve left her offerings for as long as you could remember, prayed at her altars and devoted yourself entirely— perhaps not in the same way of the temple maidens, but certainly more so than most.

You take a breath, watching him with kind eyes and an air of unease about you that only seems sweet by comparison to the very danger that his presence proposes. He only returns your stare with something colder, detached and unamused beneath that ugly veil he wears: two holes for the eyes, dyed beneath with the red rimming yellow like the tissue a butcher may find in a plump calf.

“Can you understand me?”

There’s a long, tense silence that follows your frail question. The titan stares, looks you over from the crown of your head, briefly pauses midway- at your hips- then further. It’s both heated and cold, coaxing yet analytical.

Finally, the barbarian gives a curt nod in response, seeming no less frigid and closed off even as your voice feathers over the breeze. But he understands, can decipher your language, that’s a start.

“You are… one of the barbarians, yes?” Is that even what they preferred to be called? The word certainly sounded prettier on your tongue than the brutish pronunciation of ‘Goths’. There would certainly be some price to be paid if your blood was spilled over a mere insult…

Graciously, he only seems to overlook it as he sheaths his blade and rises to his full height, tall like the mountains you had only heard stories of, where gods and goddesses sit in council not meant for mortal ears.

Freed of any covering upon his upper body, you find yourself reluctantly mesmerized by the trail of light hair that runs from chest to abdomen and down further… until a little tuft peeks from the hem of the pelt tied around his narrow hips. The layer of fat over his midsection paves a way upward to reveal the muscles of his chest, wider and more prominent somehow than most breasts you’ve seen.

Unruly thoughts clutter that would have others questioning your status and devotion to your Gaius if they could hear them. It couldn’t be helped, you reason; you had never seen a man quite so vast, so meant for battle and breeding.

“That is what your people call me,” he huffs, bull preparing to charge. His words come out with a thick accent, northern. The trees and mountains would sound similar if they could speak at all.

He drinks you in with his eyes, fingers twitching at his sides as though itching to touch your most sensitive parts. Though he doesn’t move yet, you get the sense that all it would take is one false move, a skitter in your step that leaves you tumbling to the earth, and he would be upon you like the downpours of spring. You even wonder if he would roar like the thunder delivered from Jupiter’s weighty palms if he were to mount you.

Of course, what he sees before him is not a maiden of Rome. His people didn’t care for purity, for your religions and ideals: you’re a fertile little doe, wandering straight to a buck in his prime.

You swallow hard, a little bob from your fragile throat, to force those treasonous thoughts from your mind. Even talking to this man was a risk to your reputation… Your poor betrothed, nearing thrice your age and horribly delicate by comparison to this beast, would be up in arms if he were to find you here. More concerning, you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

“What do you call yourself, then?” Your voice comes almost breathless, thighs pressed together beneath your stola as your own body sends its signs and omens to tell you that you’re precariously close to the underworld just by gracing him with your presence. Perhaps it would be that dark, too, if this giant decided to push you to the soil, hover over you as he plucked you apart like petals from a flower.

His eyes track that subtle shift of your legs, crinkling at the outer corners when they roam back upward to your face. The beast grins beneath his hood, you’re certain of it, and those eyes of pale blue seem to glitter like the sun's rays on the stream to your side. He shifts, crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his hips just slightly forward, some strange display undoubtedly meant to tempt and charm you.

You don’t budge from your perch, despite your body’s persistent singing for him. Enticing scents and views of flesh could do that… this man wasn’t special, you were just curious. That’s all that it was.

“König.” He answers things plainly in that lilted voice, as though he’s trying to seem more of a man to spite that boyish way of speaking. And gods help you- it’s cute.

“Does it have meaning?,” you settle to ask when he does not request your name in turn. A bit rude, though you do wonder if perhaps the bullish men in his settlements see delicate things like you more like pets anyhow. The thought of this warrior whisking you away and naming you one day… You swallow that lump in your throat again, teetering back on your heels as if to place more distance between you two.

“What do you think it means?”

That simple non-answer does finally allow your pulse to settle, only to rise immediately to find it insulting— as if this wild man with no proper education had the right to insult you at all.

He only smiles again beneath that veil when your face sours. Awful, wretched, gorgeous creature… You’re no threat to him and he knows it. He’s only playing with you, dodging your pretension with a bit of his own, and unfortunately… This is the most pleasant conversation that you’ve had with any man.

Your betrothed was only arrogant and dull, there’s no light in his eyes when he smiles at you- everything is duty. Not here. Not with König, and surely the goddess of marriage and love is frowning down at you from her lofty throne, because you’re almost certain you’re infatuated with the brute by now.

“You’re a bit rude.”

“King.” He grins, a grin that you can see when he frees the leather flask from his belt and shoves his mask upward to take a heavy gulp of what is undoubtedly Roman wine. The glimpse alone makes you weak again, honey drips from your thoughts to your cunt, and you know now that you were never simply curious.

No, this brute would be the end of your engagement and even you if you allowed it.

You watch him take his fill, catch the bitter scent in the air as a bit trickles down from his rough jaw to his throat, all covered in scars. He’s been in battle for a long time, likely why he wears the hood at all. The rest of that handsome face is undoubtedly a wreck just as what could be seen of his body, all covered in memories of where he’s had scrapes and dances with daggers only to fell his foes one by one with that long seax dangling from his hip.

After the hood and the flask are in their proper places once more, he gives you a nod, then speaks, “How many coins?”

It takes a moment for the question to register in full; he isn’t asking what you have on your person, but how much you’re worth. How much it would cost for you to spend a night in his bed, tolerating this giant between your legs…

Your attractions billow up in smoke immediately, just as you expression sours and your hands curl to fists at your side, crushing the half-eaten apricot in the process. You toss the ruined fruit to the ground, allowing the sweet juice to coat your fingers as it flows downward.

You wring your hand as you very nearly shout, “You are an animal. I’m not here to sell myself.”

Your voice falters to a meek, little whisper with your final words, the breath a weak gust through the first tiny blossoms of spring.

Of course he catches onto your body language, to the way your thighs rub and tense beneath your skirt, the way your nipples peak at the mere sight of him and all of the infatuation and curiosity in your eyes. Men knew things like this, offhandedly, it seemed; if the others were correct then this beast could surely smell you, too.

The bastard only stares, eyes narrowing as his brow pulls together beneath the hood in some strange confusion. The whores wore their togas, not the stolas of maidens and married women, even a barbarian should have known that: his men were certainly no strangers to the sweet women with their faces chalked in lead.

Then, his shoulders pull up to fall in a shrug.

“Run, then, little one.”

It’s almost as though he knows your thoughts in and out, a lemure himself as he presents the bulk of him that would strike fear into any man, taunts and goads. You don’t want another fire dream. You force your courage and mirror his stance: chin up, back straightened as you look down upon him like a goddess sent to deliver her fury with… a pitted apricot at your feet rather than bolts of famine and misfortunes.

His eyes become stars, twinkling in earnest when he sees you then. You’re no aristocrat, no empress, but you certainly feel the part when the giant’s gaze finally relaxes its pilferage and settles upon your face instead.

Your act is all for naught, because you realize that his men are approaching, opposite the stream. One of them was enough, but a hoard of others… You were not even certain that he could understand you properly, and the others could be even less patient. Your gaze travels over their forms, smaller than this ‘König’, but each equipped with their own weapons and their own scars from battle.

They look from their leader to you, eyes grazing over the plush flesh that your stola dutifully conceals like starved dogs. One of them mutters something in a foreign tongue, harsh and guttural, his eyes never leaving your shape in a display of brazen appraisal.

König responds in turn, voice taking on a lower octave as he all but barks his response: harsh, unyielding language that you couldn’t hope to interpret… but if you had to guess, you were nearly certain that his men were asking who would lift your skirts and have their way with you first.

You depart from them with tentative yet hurried feet, and you don’t look back as you cross across the lush field. There’s no stopping at the stable, not a thought in your head except that you would most assuredly not be returning. The barbarians could have the field, the stream, whatever the city’s officials had allowed them.

Just not you.

It’s Gaius that greets you when you arrive home, to the little villa he had secured for you; to the place that would become less of a home and more of a prison once the two of you were wed. You’re barely a foot in the door when the man’s gaunt face turns to you, his lips set in a stern line.

“Where were you?”

You knew that look, it’s the very same that he gives to his slaves when he’s about to bleat out his orders like an enraged goat, shove them or grab at them to feel less small than he truly is.

Your brow pinches, a shaky breath leaving your mouth as you try in earnest to look the part of an innocent lady who had not just crossed a field and fantasized endlessly of some rude, barbaric oaf.

“In the field. With the horses,” you deliver your half-truth with practiced ease. This wasn’t the first time you’ve lied to him, and it certainly would not be the last. If the protectress of Rome could overlook your stunts and recognize your discomfort in this wretch’s presence… then she might even side with you; save you from a future of sharing this man’s bed.

Gaius relents then— as much as a stoic, old man could. He reaches out to cup your face with one weathered hand and you have to force back to urge to shudder.

It’s not that you mean to be cold, not after all that he’s done to care for you… it just comes as naturally as the seasons and the wills of the gods. Something about him always made you feel ill.

You eventually, tentatively jut your chin forward just a bit to force yourself into leaning toward the touch of his cold hand.

His lips curl into an unsightly grin; then, he pats your cheek and draws away enough to bless you with fresher air to breathe without his withering presence alone contaminating it.

“I brought you a gift, meum corculum.”

“Oh…” Your words come in a little hiss, your heart stuttering in your chest as you teeter back on the heels of your sandals. The straps along your calves feel tighter now, your stola too… maybe even the room itself: everything seems to close in, and you could only silently hope he doesn’t request your affections for doing such. “… you didn’t have to-“

“Nonsense.” Gaius raises both of his hands, arcs them before stepping out of your path to reveal a new dress lying on the wooden table just beyond him, dyed a light blue.

It’s pretty, well-spun and soft-looking… yet you still hesitate a bit when you step closer to run your fingertips over the fabric. It yields beneath your touch, bunches when you move each digit along the pliant linen, and it’s the softest thing you’ve ever touched, maybe even softer than the lambs and kittens you’ve played with in the streets.

“I thought that you might like something nicer to wear during Quinquatria,” he adds from just behind you. You feel his hands trace along your arms, further, until they reach your shoulders and give a gentle, but almost demanding squeeze.

It’s meant to be affectionate and he is your husband-to-be… but he still manages to make you feel ill. It’s only a blessing that he’s never requested more from you than a peck for his offerings to you.

What a man in his late stage of life could see in you, you couldn’t hope to imagine. A fertile womb, likely, and you could only hope that that isn’t also what he saw in the women he kept as slaves in his own home further toward the city’s center. Nosy, dull man that he was, of course he needed to be closer to the housings of banquets and discussions to feel some level of importance while he kept you locked away toward the wall and the slums like some filthy little mystery.

“I’m tired, my love,” you manage, voice thin as you slowly pull yourself away, from both Gaius and the delicate blue thing you would be forced into wearing for the coming festival.

The man balks, but doesn’t push. A few seasons and he would have what he’s awaited for years, the confident gleam in his eyes tells you that he’s certain of it.

It’s difficult to believe that someone you had once considered a hero and a friend could make you feel so much disgust now. You were naïve, then, and now you only feel how those poor horses locked away in the stables must feel, burdened with a constant yearning for your own freedom.

“Then rest.”

When the door shuts behind him, you’re only then able to expel your relief. The weight of what you must do settles upon you, heavy and unyielding, the boulder of Terminus.

You can not marry Gaius. You can not continue to breathe in the stink of the city from its miasmic aqueducts, perfumed only by the crowded marketplace full of mortals so contented with their own tedium. The unknown calls and calls, howling like a mother wolf to guide you. Even with the stories told of what fiends and horrors lie outside of the city you could almost feel with a certainty that you were destined for it.

You light your incense with a lump of coal in the burner of a clay pot. Just cinnamon would have to do for now. You make your peace with that promising Juno whichever sweet, flaking pastry that appeals most during the festival of Minerva.

Though you were more than content with your wish for nothing more to do with the barbarians after meeting with König earlier… he comes rushing back into your mind, rolling and lapping like waves as you begin to prepare yourself for sleep. The polished tin of your hand mirror reflects your face as you twirl the handle in a curled palm and you stare. Did he see beauty or simply a womb…? Had you taken offense to nothing? The questions stir up remorse as you strip away your gown and take to the bed.

Just one more meeting with the foreigner, maybe. Just to say your farewells, wish him luck in future battles, bless his seax and his shield with a touch and a prayer (if he even had the sight to keep any form of defense on his person).

When Quinquatria comes, when the people are busy and satisfied with their food, fortune telling and the gladiator games, you will take your mare and ride off into a sea of stars. Each light will be a point of guidance until you reach the riverbed you’ve only ever dreamt of, until you scale the mountains that sang so sweetly from the goth’s tongue…

And perhaps he will chase you.

— — —

Quinquatria used to be one of your favorite festivals. The fortune tellers were your favorites, always seeming to know so very much with so little insight into your life. Then there were the revelers donning their colorful masks, barking out song with bitter wine painting their tongues.

You try to listen in on them as a woman traces over the patterns in your palm, the curved lines and straight, fine indentations. Palmistry, rather than any proper reading with sacrifices and proper seers stood before a temple. You reason that this is for fun, just like the wine-drinking and the gladiators fighting for their lives and the horrible stink of the city’s streets: natural, reasonable, and dreadfully normal.

The fortune teller hums as she reads you through your hand, laughs a bit when she seems to note a secret or… something. You were not entirely sure. The woman was young, her belly likely as full of fermented fruit as everyone else’s as they dance and crowd the street where you two are stood.

“You’re unhappy, girl,” the woman muses, giving you a sympathetic look before another laugh pulls from her lips.

You give her a nod but don’t say a word as she continues to stroke at your palm. Of course you were, anyone could tell just by the frail look upon your face, as if you were indeed bereft and ready to cry at any moment in this horrible, dainty dress with your betrothed fondling some lady mere paces from you.

“Yet, so lovely,” she continues, nimbly running her fingers to your wrist. She curls them around you, turns your hand over and gives it a soft pat to signify that your reading is done.

“You’re destined for a summer wedding.” Winter, you want to correct. “And your husband… strong and brave like the sacred wolf.” Weak and old, you force back with a clenched jaw.

She releases your wrist with one last assessment, “Juno favors you, sweet girl.”

You want to call her a fraud, but instead you merely part with the bronze you had promised to her. With Gaius preoccupied, his wrinkled hands already tucked beneath the skirt of the other woman’s stola, now would be the best time to wrench the door of your little cage wide open… not make a scene.

Your chest feels tight, and for the first time it isn’t from some unknown fear, it’s excitement. Your heart hammers as the blood stirs within your veins, belly tense and breathing shallow, taking a stiff pace to walk along the shadow untouched by silver paths of moonlight.

There’s a bellow, a wail as the gladiators fight some distance off. Soft words and whispers filtering past like eerie words from something ghastly, moans from a brothel, bells on the wind, the stink of rot and perfume all from all that you’ve known for so long as you leave it all behind.

Your mare is pacing restlessly in the field, her ears flicking and tail swaying behind her. You’ve no saddle, you hadn’t even thought to procure food or any supplies. You’re not even certain that she’s been ridden by anyone, but you coax her over to the wooden fence that your body rests over; hands find the velvety fur of her gray snout, fingers moving to gently caress her mane and ears.

“We are going to be free,” you whisper as your hands curl over her neck. The mare makes her displeasure known immediately, huffing and tensing immediately… and you realize that this isn’t going to work, not without her bucking you off and leaving you injured or dead. You’re not stupid or brazen enough to break a horse or anything, really. Not Gaius. Not…

You would find König. Perhaps you could even trade the Goth for a horse already accustomed to being ridden… he had already revealed his intentions, and he was easy enough on the eyes to entertain the thought.

You give the mare a kiss farewell, right on the softness of her cheek and detach yourself from the fence to wander past the silver field, the gently flowing stream. The water dampens your dress, embeds it’s cold into your very bone where the sandals fail to protect. Spring or not, it’s hardly warm at night, and there are only so many rocks lying in the water to keep you from sinking in.

The clothes are drenched by the time you crawl to the other side. On the opposite bank, it’s only then that you turn back to look over at the city, one final glimpse of a place bathed in gold; cinder and ash from torchlight, flowers and the creeping scent of decay carry on the breeze. Even from the distance you can hear the music, chimes of steel on steel, the laughter and cries of mirth and pleasure.

Begrudgingly, you feel the first seeds of regret plucking at your heartstrings. You’ve nothing to your name apart from a few coins in a pouch strapped to your hip, no weapons, no food. You could die, you verily would if you went at this alone. And still, you force your face forward and continue your steady waltz to look the unknown straight in its bloody maw.

You won’t panic, won’t fear. Whatever awaits would be better— it had to be.

The barbarian camp comes into view some time later. You couldn’t be certain how long you’ve been walking, as though some spirit had plucked the chords of your mind and left you in some confused daze. It couldn’t have been your own desperation. Something greater had to be at play, a proper destiny: one much better than the life of Gaius’s wife, owned like a hound, imprisoned and uninspired.

Though their torches burn, their tents stitched together amalgamations of old pelts and cloth, the air is fresher here. You expected the reek of death, heavy on their skin, bathed in blood and the rot like visions of Mors herself. Instead, you smell smoked meat and wine on the air: a boar and fermented grape, fruit from the surrounding orchards, the heavy scent of men. There’s no celebration here, a few men talking quietly as their eyes wander over what you can only assume to be some sort of map— tactical discussion for their next bloodbath.

You puff your chest and steel your gaze as you walk towards them, expression set not unlike the stern looks your betrothed would give.

Your attempt at intimidation only earns a flicker of hunger in the gazes of these men, and then a bout of grating laughter. They glance at one another, discussing you in hushed voices in their mother tongue before one finally looks to you and asks a simple, “Was?”

“König,” you answer simply. “Where might I find him?”

The question undoubtedly goes uninterpreted, but the name does spark a wave of interest that passes between their faces. Finally, one points toward the tent at the far side of the camp: ugly thing, vast and layered in dark tones of gray and maroon, the very structure is a bleeding animal.

You hear the laughter behind you, the lewd whispers and jeers and only a simpleton wouldn’t be able to interpret the meaning; the titan that heads their little group has a lovely woman seeking him out like a wayward dream, and with adrenaline already coursing through you the thought of spending your night here doesn’t even seem an insulting prospect.

The flap serving as the door of the tent parts as your hands move to lift it, and sure enough… the beast lies in wait in his den, seated on a mattress made up entirely of fur. His hood remains over his head as he traces the carvings on the handle of the seax, under flickering flame and the shadow of the tent König seems further unearthly, god walking amongst men as he toys with his weapon in some strange sort of ritual.

The ritual only seems to be one of boredom, because his eyes light up when they rest over you, standing like a dream as your dress billows with the breeze creeping in. You’re drenched and dirty and pitiful in his presence, but he only seems to soften when he beckons you toward him with a curl of his fingers meeting his palm.

You obey with tentative steps, stopping next to him as he waits on the bed. If it were possible for your heart to seize and halt entirely without you collapsing to sink beneath the earth, it surely would now, so close to him.

“I need a favor,” you explain in whispers. “A horse.”

“A horse,” he repeats as his weapon is set aside, “Warum?”

You don’t want to explain a thing. He’s working with the very men that could drag you back to the city after being paid heavily by Gaius… your trust is blind and foolish and you almost want to break apart right here. How stupid to believe that you could find some solace here, with a giant that walks along the cusp between men and beasts. Your shaking hands reach out to drag along his vast shoulders, lingering on the healed wounds that dent and give rise to his flesh.

“I’ll do what you want,” you offer quietly, earning a pleased rumble from his chest.

Though after a moment, he only sieges your wrists, pulls you down to the mattress at his side. He touches you no further, only stares down at you in a twist of amusement, reverence and confusion.

“Warum?,” he repeats, “Tell me.”

You wind over onto your side, staring up at him with a desperation that you’ve never known until this night, clawing down from your throat to bed it’s way into your roaring pulse, frightened and pleading. Just give in, ask no more, you want to wail to him as your vision begins to blur with tears.

Mercifully, he doesn’t ask again. König lies at your side, mimicking the way you curl onto your side and again… he smiles, though this one is unlike the way he looked upon you by the stream. It lacks that boyish twinkle, the intensity of the lines forming beneath his eyes: it’s more of a pleasantry than anything genuine.

“You are married?”

“What? No…” You swallow hard, toying with a thread that’s begun to pull free from your hip, twirling it between your fingers. “…not yet.”

“Ach… but you belong to another, ja?”

You want to howl out your frustrations up to every god and goddess above, burn through the Elysian with your misery alone. You wish, yearn for the courage to cast off that mask and lure him in with a kiss, erase any memory of Gaius with the kindling of a truer passion.

Your voice doesn’t come, and your fingers steadily pluck at that thread, feeling more unsure of yourself with each passing second.

Again, your bastard god grants his mercy as he raises a hand to cup your jaw, the warmth of him singing away the memory of the weathered hand that had touched you there before. His hand is so much larger, strong and riddled with calluses; you swear that you can feel his own fluttering pulse through his fingertips when they press against your bottom lip.

“Not after tonight,” he hums.

When the shroud is tugged up and his mouth meets your own, König’s kiss is exactly what you had expected: a sloppy, eager clash of teeth and tongue. He steadies you with a hand pressed to the back of your neck as his grunts filter past your own lips. Your eyelids flutter, then close as you allow your mind to finally relax, coaxed into the ethereal with each swipe of his tongue and pleasured sound drawn up from the well of his throat.

He pulls away with a gentle peck to the corner of your mouth, gazing down at you as though he’s been deprived of light for the entirety of his being and had only now met the sacred flame. It’s incomparable to how easily your betrothed would cast his scrutiny; though the hunger is similar, there’s something far more enticing here.

“Do you trust me?”

König’s voice holds no apprehension as he speaks; the question is just as blunt as each bulge of muscle and peek of teeth through the grin on his face, only set aglow by dim candlelight in the tent. You don’t nod, don’t even reply immediately as you stare at him a little dumbly, still intoxicated by the ferocity of his affections.

“… I don’t know.”

He moves a hand over your eyes then, gently presses his palm over you until you’re bathed in such darkness that you shudder. It’s a disconcerting feeling— not because you fear him so much anymore, but because if this were Gaius you would have already been squirming away, rushing to hide. You want to kiss his palm, revel in whatever piece of him he gives to you.

“Sehr schön,” König coos to you in a whisper. You settle further, allowing the tension to leave you almost entirely as you fall into the velvety embrace of all of this darkness and the pelts beneath your back.

He shifts at your side, and almost immediately there’s a cold chill at your collar, something sharp that he rakes over the softness of your flesh, then down, down to snag at the top of your dress. Your gasp is quieted by a kiss as you feel his weight shift over you, and just as you begin to melt into it… the fabric begins to tear, shreds as he guides his blade further, past your breasts and along your sternum, your belly, further.

“Don’t..,” you manage to hiss against his mouth, immediately taken over by the feeling of his tongue lapping at your teeth. Your nipples peak at the sudden chill as your dress lies ruined to either side of your body, thighs trembling as the blade hooks along the linen concealing your maidenhood.

One more generous, gentle cut and that comes away too.

You’re entirely bare when he retreats to your side again, one hand still clutching the blade as he moves his head to lay over your breast and… never, never had you heard of a man lapping and suckling at a woman like a pup, but that’s what he begins to do; his tongue circles over the bud, tugging it between his teeth until you feel the wetness between your legs beginning to drip to smear upon the mattress.

It’s caught, quick, as he turns the blade in his hand to slot its grip against your sex. It’s cold, but his mouth is warm, attentive as he licks between the valley of your breasts to capture your other nipple.

The noises that leave your mouth are filthy, rivaled only by the sounds you’ve heard in brothels… König only seems appreciative of them, muttering praises as he grinds the cold metal against your cunt, careful as the ridges of it graze your throbbing bud, gathering your slick to make the glide that much easier.

When he moves to dive for your breasts again, you cradle his jaw in your hands, peering up at those moonlight eyes in silent pleading as you capture him in another burning kiss.

The blade turns again, its sharpness directed down so as to not bring you any harm as you desperately roll your hips against its coldness. He groans into your mouth, panting softly just as you begin to whine.

You’ve never heard of a man making love to a woman with a weapon… or of one suckling at her as though she’s lactating when she is not, but… it has the desired result when your body tenses and all that can escape you is a frail whisper of his name.

The heat sweeps from your foggy head to your middle as your thighs squeeze around the damned thing and König presses his lips to your temple. You climax for him, chasing wave upon crashing wave of intensity with stilted bucks of your hips. He clicks his tongue in approval when you’ve finished, holds up the seax again, smeared wet with your essence and twinkling as though it had been bathed in the stream once more.

You know with a certainty you’ve lost Juno’s favor. If he chose you to carve you open with his come-stained blade the goddess would not make her descent to save you.

“Gut,” he whispers into your hair. To your horror, maybe even fascination, he raises the dirtied silver to his lips and licks your sweetness from it with another low groan.

“Wh… why would you do that..?” Your rapture feels almost shameful as you watch him lap at the weapon, the long tongue meeting silver only warmed by your heat.

He’s mad, certainly, and you only find yourself further infatuated: you reason that you must be too…

König doesn’t answer you as he sets the seax aside again, not in words. Instead, he cups your face and directs your lips to his own where he laps at your tongue, suckling it in the same way he did your tits. It’s slow and sensual, and you can taste yourself in his mouth, smell yourself on him as his hands find your waist and tug you closer until you’re lying almost entirely over him; one leg thrown over his thigh with your hands splayed over his chest.

The titan is hard beneath the pelt he wears, felt against the plushness of your thigh, the brown fur wrapped around his hips is pushed to rise where it’s harboring something akin to a pillar… but he doesn’t force you to settle over it, makes no attempt to tug it free, despite its throbbing against your leg,

“I needed your blessing,” he mutters, a hand settling over your naked hip, tracing small shapes with his thick fingers. The other finds your shoulder to pull you into a cuddle, pulled so tightly against him that you’re hardly able to discern where your warmth ends and his begins.

“A.. a blessing?” Your voice comes as a trembling croak, head pressed into the gap between a broad shoulder and the column of his throat.

“We are leaving in the morning.”

“Oh…”

“I will give you the horse when I return.”

Your head feels like a mess. You’re not even certain of what you’ve just done— did that count as sex? Would he tell the Roman soldiers he works alongside of how he had convinced some pompous aristocrat’s lovely bride to lustrate his blade with her essence? You could hit him, demand the horse now and bolt, but you only melt against him: eyelashes fluttering as exhaustion takes hold and the tension leaves you entirely.

“That’s all?”

König pets you, running a hand along your spine and back up to repeat. He presses his nose to the crown of your head, nuzzling against it until his hand is freed from your form and only then does it coax its way beneath the fur covering his groin.

He laughs at the weak sound of surprise you elicit when that beast is pulled free, another, thicker weapon curled in his hand. The thickness, the length of it that tapers off to a layer of skin, eager and pulled back from the tip, leaking beads of milky white: something that would surely tear you if he were not careful, and the thought brings you to squeeze your thighs together, concealing the leaking, thrumming thing between.

“I will fuck you when I return, too,” he huffs into your scalp, causing you to further bury your face against him, intent not to let him see the effect his derangement seems to have on you. You would let him bury himself into your chest, steal the breath from your very lungs, but you don’t breathe a word of it. Something tells you it’s a mutual thing, perhaps it was all spelled out for you when he asked for your favor rather than from any of his foreign gods.

You count your undeserved blessings. He seems sated only ruining you with his touch for the time being, you’re very comfortable here, and though you dare not speak it… you do find this brute charming. He speaks where you fail to, whispers of your beauty being like that from myths and dreams.

He doesn’t force you to leave, either, only paws at and squishes your breasts until you squeak and whine your protests, already sore from his teeth leaving their marks all over them. When he tires of his fun, you’re pulled into a crushing embrace where he rests his head against your own, blankets you in himself entirely. You were right… the shadow he casts over you blackens out the sun, moon, stars all of it; dulls the haze of carnality with something far more tender.

Your night becomes entirely made up of König: his scent like forest and sweat, the furs from beasts he’s chased down and slain, his soft breathing and gentle snores when he does fall asleep against you.

No dreams come to you, no lemures to haunt you with their wails and flames. Not even Juno descends to punish you. You’re warm and soft and contented like the kittens curled up in clusters along the streets on cold nights.

It’s the first night of peace you’ve had in some time.

When morning comes, the brightness of the sun peeking through the flaps of the tent, you wake to find König already out of bed. He stands at the far side of the tent, strapping on pelts and gear and the leather pouch filled with wine. His seax is held up in utter revelry, and mortifyingly enough… you immediately note that he hadn’t cleaned away the remnants of what occurred last night either.

When you bring yourself to sit upright, the giant only drops to his knees at your feet and curls his arms around your middle, pressing a kiss to the valley between your breasts through the thick fabric of the hood.

And… it almost hurts, to realize then that this is something you’ve longed for. You’re not arrogant enough to believe yourself worthy of some foreign worship, but he seems to liken you of some devout little acolyte, as if your come and kisses could grant him favor while he butchers poor souls all in favor of your empire: the people he had likely been communing and trading with only months before. Traitorous, mad, utterly enthralling man… You’re not certain whether you want to relieve yourself from him or guide him back into bed for more frenzied pleasures.

“You will stay?,” he murmurs into your skin as his kisses trail up to your neck.

You hadn’t even considered what you would do, it never came to mind, but staying in a shoddy tent in wait for him to return with the horse he’s promised was far from favorable. You’re out from the city, still without food or weapons, your dress and underclothes are a torn ruin on the floor, nothing but the wind and the stream and König’s stinking furs… The bathhouse seems to call to you now more than ever. Your lower lip trembles when you think of returning to that stale place, to be questioned endlessly about your affairs from your ‘doting’ husband-to-be…

Your head shakes solemnly. “I’ll wait for you at home.”

König drags you up onto your feet and closer as he savors in another embrace. You’re cloaked in a gray pelt, tied up and over your shoulders like the gaudiest tunic in the world, but you bur your nose into its shoulder, humming in contentment when you find that it smells just like him.

He’s more confident and proud than you’ve ever seen him now. The filthy blade remains strapped to his hip when he gathers you up to sit at his front on the back of his horse— a dark stallion with a pelt the same shade as the night sky. It doesn’t even seem to flinch at your combined weight, just canters along smoothly as König directs it through the sprawling field and past the stream to lead you back towards the city’s gates.

You’re not thinking of Juno or Gaius or traditions when König cinches your waist with a thick arm to draw you in closer; there’s nothing but fluffy warmth pooling in your chest sent by Venus when you feel his hips shift to press himself against your back. His head dips to kiss at your neck, your burning cheeks, shoulder, anyplace that he can.

When the horse comes to a halt with a sharp tug of its makeshift reigns, some length of rope and twine, his hand is at your rear.

Everything’s incensed and floral when you’re lowered to the ground, when he lifts the hood to grin down at you, not only with his eyes this time. It’s a sheepish, gluttonous grin, drunk off your very presence.

“I will come back for you, meine Göttin.”

And you know now, that the palm reading had been true— there’s your wolf in preparation for a hunt, the man who’s unwittingly aiding you in your pursuit of freedom painted with mountains and vast, blue skies. You will convince him to come away too, lay down the blade you’ve blessed with your pleasure. A summer wedding… far from wars of greed and smirking old men.

Your head swims when he bids you farewell, rides off on his massive horse back to his camp to gather his own men to march. You watch him go, breath caught up in your throat, a burning longing in your chest that you can not entirely dismiss.

The walk of shame only comes when you’ve crossed the threshold separating König’s world from your own.

The stink of the streets immediately washes away any lingering scent of him on your skin, on his pelt you now hide away with your arms curled around your waist.

You catch your reflection in stagnant water held in a pot, swaying and ebbing gently as others breeze past you.

You’re in a foreigner’s clothes that just barely crest your thighs, hair a mess and the carmine you had worn to bring a false blush to your cheeks is smeared over an eye and down to your jaw. You look the part of an adulteress, maybe, even as you dip your hand into the water to wash the makeup from your face.

There isn’t much to be done about the marks left over the hints of your chest revealed beneath the fur, but you make your way home without anyone even bothering to ask. If anything, the festivities from the night prior only seemed to subdue the standard bustle. You could only imagine how exhausted the hungover soldiers may have been as they undoubtedly prepare for the expedition König had mentioned.

That overrides your shame, sobers you from that sugary elation somewhat. You’re worried. It’s not just about König himself, not about the threat of fucking you when he returns left unfulfilled— though, those are enough to make your heart begin it’s hammering, rabbit in the throes of a chase. The horse, too. That proud stallion, your hope of a swift escape before winter comes and it’s all lost. If his drunken allies fail him in battle, if some other barbarian’s spear strikes true and fells your titan then the dream is dispelled into smoke, sunken down to river bed to be lashed away by frothing waters.

Whoever decided that the day after revelry would be the time to move was a fool indeed. The deities couldn’t look at you after last night, you know if they saw their noses would be turned up in disgust… perhaps not Jupiter’s, he’s more guilty than you could ever be, but your offerings had never been for him had they?

You fret and hiss below your breath as you wind your way back to the villa with its white walls and terracotta-tiled roof. The sun bears down on you like the flame of your dreaming. You’re afraid again, letting the lemures find their way in through the gaps in your shivering limbs to haunt your dreams.

Gaius is not there to greet you, likely still recovering from his own fevered night. You’re grateful for that.

The little altar to Juno still stands atop a table in your room, the burner still smells of cinnamon, dried flower petals and a dish of honey still sat there entirely untouched. She hasn’t split it in two, abandoned you, but it does feel that way when you peel away the fur.

Your fingers nudge at the bruises laden into your skin, the marks that look like teeth to either side of your breast. You press into them, gently, immediately feel that coil of heat, and you don’t want to sleep. That fire from your dream only seems to have become a part of you: you know it intimately now, it comes with pleasure and bite marks and a heavy weight harbored in your chest.

You cinch your waist and tie your stola at your shoulder, brush your hair out with a comb made of ivory. You rub your bruises with a salve made of honey, bandage up what you can and hide away what you can’t by tugging up your breast band.

The same as any other day, you take to the streets of the city and peruse the marketplace, take to the empty bathhouse to wash away all that’s consumed you over the past day. And you watch the soldiers go as they march through the streets, women and children waving away their fathers and brothers with prayers and sentimental words.

They don themselves in red, clutching their gladiuses, spears and heavy shields as they filter out and away where your very being longs to be. Their faces are giddy, almost: the prospect of pillaging and felling each enemy another delightful treat just like those found in the gladiator pits and amidst rolling with the whores in their brothel beds. You can not hope to understand their mirth, the happiness in any of the civilians either.

You watch them leave wistfully, lips pressed to a thin line, fingers digging into the waist of the stola. You down your fair share of the wine Gaius has left in your cellar. The day merely passes you by, the sewing left undone on the floor, altar bathed in cinnamon and saffron as you make your prayers and beg like any dog.

The mattress feels lonely and sad without the warmth of a body made for war curled against you, without his breath in your hair and his arms wrapped around you. It’s cold, too, and far harder than his, all straw and thin sheets. None of this feels like home.

Your eyes eventually close as the last of the sun’s rays begin to die, blotted out by the dark, untouched by torchlight.

You dream of fire.

#könig #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig #konig x you #cod fanfiction #f: only other #tw: dubcon

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saltofmercury · 1 year

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Hello hello 👋🏻 new follower here but I love your work (the clumsy reader drabble was so cute I love our bbygirl in these “mundane” type of situations and you’ve written him into that setting so wonderfully 💕❤️) so I thought I’d shoot in a request, you can turn it into a drabble or something else of your choosing, that is of course if it appeals to you! But I thought it was a cute and funny moment which could fit well with your writing style! So I work in an office filled w a lot of men who are taller than me which means I have to crane up my neck 99% of the time to keep a conversation w them, but there’s this one coworker who has to courtesy to lean down/sit beside me and sometimes gets on his knees next to my desk on the floor whenever he comes around to talk, and the other day another coworker passed us by and he said “ [hisname], on your knees again, I see?” and he immediately clapped back w “I’ll always get down on my knees for a woman, you should try it out sometimes!” (now that I read this back it comes across as juvenile and borderline a HR nightmare but I promise it was harmless fun😭😭)

anyhoo since I have a very dirty mind in general and am currently battling a bad case of brainrot bc of a certain Austrian sniper who triggers all the kinks (size in particular🥴) I was thinking what if Konig would have a freudian slip like this around his crush and where it would lead the two of them 👀

Hope this fits the request!

"Friendship"

Small little hand touches, small flirty comments, stealing eye glances toward one another. You two had been dancing around one another. There was an obvious attraction toward one another, but afraid of overstepping your friendship boundary, you had left it kissing in the hallway, not wanting to get hurt.

König seemed like he liked to keep it as a friendship too. He would talk to you throughout the day, FaceTime at night, even sometimes making you lunch when you didn’t answer him. He knew you were busy so he tried to make your day a little easier.

He actually hated the kissing part because it left him wanting more.

“Come on one more kiss?”

He had been breathless, meeting you in the stairwell for your usual “afternoon delight.” A term he mixed up.

He pulled you in, craned his neck towards you, trapping you under his arms and lips.

“I’ve got — he kissed you

— reports to submit!”

“Last one until tomorrow,” he exhaled, rubbing your face with his thumbs, then embracing you, sticking his tongue in your mouth, you sucking it and making him moan.

You felt it. He was clearly hard against you, so you pulled away, not trying to make it worse for him.

“Hey, wait just for a minute more…” he attempted to pull you back but you dismissed him, telling him you need to get back to your report for Price.

Later that night, after you guys had FaceTimed each other, you two had been laughing at something he said.

“Ok ok, I need to go to sleep, I have to go to the gym tomorrow.” He said

“Alright, fine.” You whined. “Goodnight…”

“Okay goodnight —I love you!” He had heard what he said, wide eyed, his face turned red, and he fumbled his phone to end the call.

The next day, you hadn’t brought up the I love you, meeting with everyone to go over plans for the mission you were sending them on. You had briefed each and every member of KorTac, making sure they knew what they would be supplied with and how much time they had.

Once it was over, Horangi leaned over to König.

“God she’s strict but I like her! She’s all business. She even gave us timelines of when this should be completed.”

König stared at you standing in the hallway, fixing your jacket over your blouse.

He was never a boobs kind of guy, but he thinks you made him one. He wondered how they would feel in his mouth.

“Yeah she’s the breast… I mean best!” He stared at Horangi, who started laughing hysterically.

“Got your mind in the gutter König?”

At that moment you had turned towards them, wondering what Horangi was laughing about. You smiled, waving at them.

Two days later, you had a free afternoon, König had been talking to you about heading to the gym. You had told him you desperately wanted a shower and would skip the gym today. Not that you even went, you weren’t into fitness at all.

König had heard what you said, but insisted on having you there with him, to at least have company and sneak off to make out. But what had come out was —

“Hey wanna go shower with me?” He was stunned, you started laughing so hard you couldn’t stop. He was clearly flustered, he wasn’t sure if you had laughed it off as a joke or just merely embarrassed.

"I've got to go, i'm gonna be late." He practically gathered himself running away.

When he tried calling you that night, but you had been too preoccupied with something else. Wondering if his feelings secretly slipped a message out. Did he want more than just friends?

You touched yourself, imagining what it would feel to have his pouty lips in between your legs. What it would be like to have him moaning echoing throughout the four corners of your room. How it would be to sit on him, his thick sex entering you, stretching you out as you held onto him…

He didn't reach you, and left you a voicemail.

“Okay I know today was weird with the shower comment… if you get this call, give me a chance." It had slipped out again.

Once you heard that message it was clear. You knew he wanted it too.

You texted him to come over.

He had rushed over, sensing some priority in your message. The three knocks on your door had created an urgency inside you. You ran to the door, and grabbed him by the shirt. Pulled him into a kiss.

“I want you so bad König you don’t understand. I don’t want to be friends.”

He chuckled lightly, “I do understand…”

He picked you up and pressed you against the wall. Sucking on your neck and collarbone, leaving small bites, and hickeys in their place.

“You have no idea what you do to me, how badly I’ve wanted this.”

You grab a hold of his face in your hands, sloppily kissing him and arching your back from the wall, your breasts closer to his chest.

“Say you’ve wanted me too? Please baby.”

You pulled yourself from him, unlatching your legs around his waist, and pulling yourself down.

You proceed to undress yourself walking slowly to the bedroom.

He followed you into the room where you’ve already peeled off most of your clothes except your panties.

“I’ve wanted you so badly.”

You lay on the bed, and as his hands roam your breasts, squeezing, and fondling your nipples, he gently rubs down to your panties, his fingertips on the edge of them.

“No, König, take them off with your teeth.”

He looks at you for a second, the rush of blood going straight to his erection. He kisses you through your underwear, grabs a hold of your legs from underneath. Teeth nip lightly at your skin, grab a hold of the lace in-between and with one full motion, he’s taken them down to your knees. He rips them off your leg and puts them in his back pocket.

He looks at you, exposed, your legs wide open. Your cunt somewhat wet for him, and he’s got to taste just to be sure.

He places his tongue on you, gently flicks inside you, swirling and licking you at every inch.

He moans, nuzzling himself closer.

“ugh baby, you’ve got such a cute cunt.”

The heat rises from your stomach to your cheeks. He’s so gentle, sucking on your lips, teasing your clit.

“I’ve wanted to taste you since we’ve shared our first kiss.”

He speaks softly, placing small pecks on you. It bubbles small waves in you.

He wraps his hands around yours,

“Tell me baby, have you wondered what it’s like? What does my tongue feel like on your pretty little cunt?”

You’re overwhelmed, he’s so vocal but gentle, it makes you crazy. You let out a small moan.

“Breathe in through your nose baby, relax, I’m here.”

As soon as you take those deep breaths, it’s game over, like your body has its full attention on his tongue on your clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

He’s egging you on,

“You like it when I go fast?” He flicks your clit faster with his tongue,

then asks,

“Or slow like this?”

And proceeds to suck on your clit so gently, soft moans coming from his mouth.

“You taste so good, baby.”

Your brain can’t comprehend anything. The sounds you’re emitting, his tongue on you, how he expresses himself… you can feel how close you are.

“You’re gonna cum soon? I can feel it, you’re so wet. Cum for me.”

And it’s with those three words that send you over the edge. You arch your back, flares ripple through your body, and you moan his name.

He’s still sucking, making you jump slightly, pushing away from him.

He comes up towards your body, placing soft kisses on your legs, tummy, and breasts. He stops at the left one, sucking on it.

“I’ll get these next time.” He tells you, grabbing you for a deep kiss.

You stare up at him, wondering why it was ever such a bad thing to break your friendship. There was no doubt in your head you two were made for one another.

#könig #request #konig mw2 #könig x f!reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #König smut #call of duty mw2

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gghalcyon · 10 months

Text

KÖNIG: Do you remember the last time we went out to the movies, Leibling? YOU: I remember our date, baby, but I can't tell you much about the movie we "watched" because someone was very distracting. KÖNIG: You were the distraction, Leibling, especially in that red dress. How you moved against my fingers while you tried to keep quiet. Those beautiful legs spread wide open just for me.

- - - -

Flashback to Your Date at the Movies

When you had entered the theater on one of your dates with König, it was almost like a ghost town. Except for three other patrons scattered near the back, there was nothing but silence in the air. You felt grateful for this private setting; so much that you held on to König's arm tightly as you two made your way to the center row.

As soon as you situated yourself comfortably between him and the aisle, the movie began playing on the screen. It was an old classic about a man looking for his lost love in outer space, and both of you were equally entranced by its charm. Your head lay snugly against his shoulder as you held hands, and he could feel your gaze intermittently shift towards him, accompanied by whispered comments and reactions. He smiled silently each time until he felt something more than just a warm hand resting atop his thigh.

He glanced away from the movie to find your eyes already focused on him, filled with merriment and a silent challenge that he couldn't ignore. You raised an eyebrow, seemingly aware of the effect that your gentle caressing had on him as his arousal throbbed under your grasp. "Is everything okay?" You breathed softly--playfully-- into his ear before returning your attention back to the show, leaving him speechless.

He leaned down against your ear, sending a thrill through your body as his hot breath trickled across your skin. His whisper was like molten chocolate, cascading through every part of you, "Absolutely."

He slowly tilted your face towards him and gave you a tender kiss on the neck. He expertly wound his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him in an embrace that made your heart quicken in anticipation.

You could sense how grateful König was that no one else was seated behind you—the rows were empty and several more separated you from the other patrons who were intently watching the film. Not wanting to miss this opportunity, he began tracing circles on your bare shoulder with the hand from his arm around your shoulders. Slow and steady, his piercing eyes never leaving the screen--pretending he was still watching-- he continued to tantalize your exposed shoulder, thankful for the red dress you had chosen that night.

Your skin had been silky against his touch, and though you tried to pretend that you were still engrossed in the movie, his nearness was overwhelming. You moved ever so slightly, tracing circles around the hardness of his erection tucked away in his black jeans. Teasing him, showing him how much you wanted him.

König removed his arm from around your shoulders and placed it between your legs. When he began trailing up your legs, pushing your red dress higher with each pass of his fingers, you gasped quietly and held your breath. His strong hands stayed just beneath the heat of your inner thighs, unmoving and expectant.

You licked your lips, biting down on your bottom lip, stifling a moan, as you felt your arousal intensify. Your body moved against his palm as if on their own accord, desiring him to explore further beyond the thin fabric separating you.

"König," you whispered his name. You wanted more; yearned for more contact.

König looked deep into your eyes this time, his blue eyes pouring out all the desire that had been stirring inside of him, knowing he'd be leaving you for another mission in a week's time. He could no longer restrain himself as his hands inched past your panties to find your slick folds.

He grinned at you devilishly as he moved his hands against your softness, as your fingers tantalized his hardness. "Please," you murmured pleadingly as you arched into him, opening your legs wider for him. His fingers against you driving you crazy.

König felt a mix of pleasure and anticipation as the wetness between your legs grew ever more evident through your lacy panties. And he gave in to what you wanted, as he tenderly drew the lace aside, exposing your slick, shaved mound, and he began to stroke your quivering folds with precise gentle and hard motions.

His eyes never strayed from yours as his hand explored further, flicking across your most sensitive spot until you gasped out loud in delight.

"Shhh," he whispered against your ear.

You purse your lips, doing your best to stifle a moan, as you wriggled against him to seek out that perfect sensation before pushing down onto his two fingers still exploring within you.

A low moan escaped your lips, thankfully masked by the crashing symphony of soundtracks that filled the cinema.

You met König's gaze as you rode his fingers, relishing in the sensation that coursed through your veins when he added his thumb to the sensual experience. He drove you insane, as an overwhelming need for him--to take him, taste him, ride him--takes over.

Your hands scrambled with his belt, desperate to give him the same pleasure you were receiving. He stayed your movements, pushing your hands away as he whispered against your ear: "Not here." His breath sent shivers down your spine and then a small chuckle followed by "I want you to ride my fingers, Mein Süßi."

And so you did - faster and faster until his digits dug deep into you, each stroke of his thumb sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. Your slick walls squeezing his fingers, imagining it was his hard cock you were riding with abandon until you felt something building and building within you. Desperately wanting release yet still aware that if anyone looked over they'd take note of what was going on in their midst, you do your best to steady your breathing and your motion.

As if sensing your innermost desires, König's baritone whispered encouragement, "Don't hold back." He urges you to keep riding, your slickness covering his fingers, dripping down the side of your legs.

You felt your breath deepen and quicken as he expertly moved his long fingers over you, inside of you--in and out.

You grew hot and slick against him, pleasure rising in intensity until it reached its peak. "Oh god," you thought just before realizing you'd said this out loud. König leaned closer and pressed his lips to yours in a hushed, intense kiss that sealed your fate, sending you crashing into bliss as you contracted around his fingers and melted in his arms, as you came undone in his arms.

You panted heavily as König withdrew his hands from your body, and as you crashed into a blissful abyss, you watched him wipe away the dampness with a napkin nearby. Tenderly yet still unfazed, he smoothed down your skirt before tucking the napkin in his pocket.

You blushed with embarrassment as you realized what had happened. You fidgeted next to him, and König couldn't help but smirk, feeling your movements as you snuggled closer to him, both of you wearing mischievous grins.

He lovingly caressed your neck then softly kissed it. His lips moved tantalizingly towards yours and soon they locked in a passionate kiss. You felt an insatiable desire to be closer to him. Your heart raced and heat was radiating from both of your bodies as the movie came to an end.

Neither one of you wanted to leave the theater, wanting to savor this moment for just a few seconds longer. Glad that everyone seemed oblivious to what transpired between the two of you, and both of you feeling like you had gotten away with the most mischievous thing in the world together.

When the movie finished and the credit rolled, the lights flickered on and König grabbed your hand, pressing it tenderly against his smooth lips. You allowed him to lead you out of the movie theater, praying that what you both had just done wasn't too obvious in your faces.

You glance up at your man who had a satisfied smile on his lips, his face flushed. He noticed you looking and returned your gaze.

"König...I have never done something like that before," you said breathlessly.

"Neither have I, and I'm glad we did it together. You were amazing."

Read More from the Textuals Series | Master List | Read on AO3

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