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mxiaogod · 11 months

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— 15. [FANTOMĂ] GHOST / SIMON RILEY X FEM! AFAB READER

WARNING : MANHANDLING, DEGRADATION, PRAISE, FEAR PLAY, DOUBLE PENETRATION, KNIFE PLAY, BONDAGE, SPIT PLAY, MASK KINK, IMPACT PLAY, OVERSTIMULATION, BLOOD, PRIMAL PLAY, SIZE KINK, DARK CONTENT! NSFW, (DNI IF YOU AREN’T 18+)

A/N : The story will be substantially altered, and certain portions may not be linked to the original lore of COD. I do not play the game, nor am I educated in the military field; this is simply self indulgent. ALL OF THIS ARE A WORK OF FICTION AND IS LABELED AS DARK CONTENT, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

And a big thank you for 342 followers.💐

— Ghosts are a tale, a haunting narrative; some may find them symbolic, but they are essentially a mental construct; some may believe in them, while others do not. They are terrifying, instilling fear in the hearts of those who cross them.

Your trembling fingers grasp the firm soil beneath you, gripping it with might. The thumping of your heart synchronizes with the heaves of your chest, under your nails are caked with dirt, twigs and dead leaves entangling with your hair. You’ve been running for what felt like hours now, you’ve fallen and got back on the soles of your bare feet more times than you can count, your frail fingers grazing the tender bruises trailing down your thighs as you try to ignore the constant throbbing in your skull.

A twig snapping causes your head to snap up, wintry wands, waved by nature's hand, take on a bold black silhouette in silvery air; a sob caught in your throat. You get up by the palms of your hands, sliding your back up against the tree as you run, tears blurring your vision by the sheer fear that has its grip in your heart. Multiple debris has dug into your foot but you paid no attention. Through the dance of fog, the twirl of mist, a small, cozy cabin sits atop of firm land, big enough to play cat and mouse with whoever is running after you. You immediately seek shelter, your frail body slamming the aging, oak door. You slam it shut, pushing an old book case to block the door with whatever strength you had left.

You grab ahold of the ends of your dress, wet from the rain and caked with mud, wringing it with your hands. You start to look around, a measly wooden chair and table sits on the corner, spotlighted by the moonlight, book shelves after book shelves that are littered with rubbish. Your feet thud against the wooden floor as you near the lone desk. A wall of newspapers, pages torn from magazines and books are slacked onto the peeling walls. You grab one that piqued your interest, ripping it off the wall and reading it with trembling fingers.

As you take in the information, a prickling sensation by your nape alerts your senses, tears brimming your eyes as your gut drops. The paper crinkled in your hand as you fell to your knees. “No, no, no!”

“Found you.” Strong arms held you by your armpits, lifting you into the air. A scream tore from your throat, pain spiraling up to your spine by being slammed onto a shelf. “Fuck! What do you want from me, please let me go!-” You were interrupted by a pointer finger touching your cold lips, “Shh” he said. You finally had the courage to open your eyes, widening as you were faced with a man bigger than you, his face concealed in a skull mask, eyes blown with primality. Your mind, hazed from previous events, is confused by the calmness emanating from him, but the danger was overpowering.

Your whimpers subside as tears lick the flesh of your cheeks. He brings you into the bathroom, tying your arms to the shower head with a crimson rope he picked up on the way.

He steps back and admires his work as your chest heaves from the intakes of air, nervousness and fear wrapping it hands and gripping your throat, along with your heart.

"What did I say, hm?" He inquires gently, his deep voice rumbling deep within his chest. He's so large that you had to bend your head back to face him. As a display of defiance, you shake your head and purse your lips.

“I asked you a question, love.” He repeats, “To- To stop roaming these forests.” you respond, voice steadying. “Right, and you didn’t listen.” you can’t help but feel ashamed for defying him at his disappointed tone. “You said I can’t be here because there are dangerous people around, but you’re lying, I haven’t seen anyone around, except you.”

“Exactly.” His tone is gruff as he tears your dress off down the middle, ridding you of clothes except your underwear. You gasp and cross your leg, tugging your arms down in an attempt to cover yourself.

“You look so beautiful like this, all filthy and afraid.” As his fingers caress the apple of your cheeks. You flinch from his touch, turning your face to the side. “You scared of me love?” he says, almost humorously. “Isn’t that the reason you come here, everynight? To come see me? Because you know you’ll only get that fear you crave from me.”

“Does it make you wet, knowing that people fear me? Knowing that you’re the only one who has gotten close enough?” He chastises, “Your curiosity will get you in danger, my love.” Your stomach caves, thighs pressing together as you try to resist the nature of your very being. You tried, tried to resist the chase, the thrill, the fear that this man has brought to you, but it had gotten so addicting, so inhabitable to the point you live and breath for it.

You tell yourself that it’s wrong, so wrong to be living like this, living with threats behind, chasing after you but you couldn’t resist the temptation, couldn’t stay away from him, so raw and untouched.

His face had gotten closer, you could feel his hot breath on your cheek through his balaclava, your lips part open as you welcome all the ugly parts of him, all the sick and twisted elements that you’re willing to take from him, and he knows that with how you bare yourself to him, like an offering to a god. “Please.” One word was enough for him to kiss your lips through his mask, your hips immediately rutting against his thigh. “I’m going to fuck you til’ sunrise.”

His big hands grip the plush of your hips, helping you to tilt your hips back and forth in his thick thighs until he sees you forming a wet spot on his combat pants. “Look at that, grinding on my thigh like a little slut. My little slut.” He moves high thigh away, and you give him a desperate whine in return.

A sharp, glinting metal trails from your sternum, to your hips, a sharp cry escaping from your lips as it digs through skin, just light enough to leave a scar. The knife moves to the side of your hips, tearing through the thin fabric of your underwear, baring your swollen cunt to him.

He circles your clit with the rubber handle of his knife, spelling his name, you couldn't decipher it with your hazy mind, pleasure rolling off in waves. He trails it back up your torso, your slick sticking to your skin. “Spit on it.” He instructs and you do, sticking out your tongue and letting your saliva drip into the handle while maintaining eye contact. Your arousal and your saliva mix together as he inserts the handle into your cunt, your legs automatically widening to welcome his assault. “Feel so good” you moan through heaving breaths, he smiles under his skull mask, kneeling down on his knees as he lifts half of his mask, exposing his red lips, parted open and wet with his saliva as he sucks your clit into his hot mouth. You throw your head back, hips gyrating on his face as the knife pumps in and out of you, his hands that grips the sharp end of the knife, digging into it, his crimson blood trailing down his forearm dripping down his elbow onto the bathroom floor. Your eyebrows knit and your eyes close in pleasure, your hips shaking from the stimulation. He spits into your clit as he rubs it with his other hand, his eye trained on your face, there’s nothing he loves more than seeing your face contort with pleasure.

“Look down so you can see how I’m on my knees for you, bleeding and desperate to taste you, look and cum for me.” He stated firmly, you trail your eyes down and meet him and it was a sight you’ll never forget, pleasure climbs up your spine, coursing through your veins, consuming you whole.

“That’s it, scream for me, sounds so beautiful.” You come down from your high, head lolling to the side. He nips and sucks you clean until he’s satisfied, “That’s my good pussy, yes it is.” He coos. .

He stands back up, throwing his knife to the side as he turns you around, the rope twisting harder into your wrist as you wail in pain. His combat boots kick your left feet to the side, widening your legs for him. He grabs ahold of your waist, his other hand pressing down your lower back, arching you beautifully.

He presses his hips into your bare ass, humping and thrusting as he releases groans beside your ear, you bite your lips as you thrust back, his movements getting harsher and harsher until you hear him zip his pants down, hurriedly taking his cock out.

You look back at him, stroking his cock, standing tall with his tip swollen and dripping with pre cum, veins bulging as he grabs himself at the base, his hips rutting into his palm. “Please- want it so bad.” You plead, throwing your ass back onto his hips as he catches it with his palm, steadying you as he guides the head in. “Fuck-”

“Does that feel good?” He asks as he pulls out, and thrust back in. “Oh I bet it does.” He pants as he thrusts his hips, making you take the entirety of his length. A beaded chain, wraps around your thighs, his hand curling against it as you feel it embed into your skin, the chain dangles as he fucks into you, his dog tag.

“Fuck, it’s too much, can’t anymore-” as your hands push his pelvic back.

Smack!

“You’ll take it because I said so.” He said, thrusting harder, tilting his hips as he repeatedly hits your g-spot. “This is for doing a good job.” He whispers, wet lips ghosting the shell of your ear. You feel him spit into his hands, his thumb circling your puckered hole as he inserts it inch by inch, “And this is for being a good girl.”

“Gonna cum, gonna cum-” You warn as your head falls back onto his shoulder, he lifts both your legs up, lifting you as he continues to chase his high, his cock bulging out your stomach.

“So good love, so good, fuck, cum with me- now.” His ragged moan beside your ear pushed you to the edge, pussy clenching on his girthy length. His hot cum fills your pussy, your eyes rolling back, saliva dripping into the side of your mouth from the immense pleasure.

You feel your arms loosen, as he unties the rope that binds your hand.

“Care for a bath?” He whispers, rubbing his warm hands on your lower back as he carries you bridal style.

“What’s your name, Ghost? Will you tell me?” You ask, doe eyes pleading.

Your eyes snaps open, jaw trembling from the cry forming inside your throat. You feel your hips itch as you scratch, your scar making an appearance.

S.R

Etched into the skin of your hips, your hair sticking to your neck from the sweat. You dreamt of him again.

But that’s all he ever was, a figment of your imagination, haunting your dreams, instilling fear into your heart.

A ghost, Fantomă.

#ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod smut #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #header by @/661ave #is he real or is y/n just delusional😧 we may never know😁

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mylittlepimp · 3 months

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You didn't need to call me out like that Tumblr...

#simon ghost riley #biker!simon #661ave art #credit to 661ave

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dovabunny · 9 months

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Soap: Ghost! Why are you heading for the canteen, we need to head out!

Ghost: it's 5.

Soap: ...and?

Ghost, Bri'ish:

#meme template from 661ave on Twitter #cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish

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yeyinde · 1 year

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I don't know if you've seen this, buuuut instantly thought of you when I saw Keegan. @661ave on twitter

OH.

OH WOW. 😳

#GOD 661ave is like #a god #this is brilliant and he's so fine i'm gonna cry #keegan p russ #THANK YOU FOR THIS!!!!!!!!!!!

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nyetrusskogo · 6 months

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independent, private, selective, headcanon-based vladimir makarov of the COD franchise. influenced by both the originals and the reboot. written by zirka (25+ / est / he&they). heavily affiliated with @tinzony & @pseudolife

ALSO FOUND AT: @nezemny

google sites / spotify / pinterest

very trigger heavy. war crimes, human trafficking, hate crimes, murder, terrorism, extremism, mutilation, etc. will be touched on here. viewer discretion is advised. 20+ required for interaction.

#pinned post #☢ ― ooc #☢ ― ooc asks #☢ ― munday #☢ ― my graphics #☢ ― self promo #☢ ― promo #☢ ― psa #☢ ― saved #☢ ― queue #graphics by: calisources #header render by 661ave

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ave661 · 3 months

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biker!Ghost 1 1 , 2 , 3 , 3.5

#biker!ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #mw2 #mw3 #modern warfare 3 #modern warfare 2 #661ave

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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

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

Banner picture credit: @661ave

possession

noun

the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

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

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

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

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

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

Family, or friends, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His showers last for about 15 minutes nowadays.

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

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

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

And god, how he would fuck her…

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

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

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

"Scheisse–"

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

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

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

…

She asks if he wants his house decorated for Christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aw… You shouldn't have…"

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

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

"You're welcome."

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

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

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

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

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

Well, shit. Fuck.

"Don't worry about it."

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

"That’s nice to hear."

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

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

"You already got me Christmas decorations."

"Yeah, but… You paid for them."

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

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

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

"I truly did."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes?"

"I… Ah, glückliches neues Jahr."

"...What does that mean?"

"It means 'Happy New Year'."

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

Shit.

Shit…

"Ich möchte deine Muschi lecken."

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

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

"Something naughty."

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

"Really…?"

"Yes."

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

Playful, naughty, dirty.

She wants to fuck. She wants to fuck.

Is this a filthy dream or is this really happening?

"I want to lick your pussy."

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

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

"Ja."

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

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

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

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

"Go ahead then," she whispers.

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

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

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

Mein.

Mein…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh god ohgod oh fuck–!"

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

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

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

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

And he's only about to fuck her…

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

"Oh–oh god…"

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

"Wait–"

"I will fuck you now."

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

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

"Hm. I don't have any."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I am."

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

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

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

"Ah ja… Das ist schön… Sehr schön."

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

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

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

"Ok…"

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

"Yes," she sighs. "Feels so good…"

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

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

"O‐oh…?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes… Oh fuck, I'm…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Will you stay? For the night…?"

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

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

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

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

“I'm sorry..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You’re afraid to fall in love…?"

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

"Liebling... Me too."

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

"Oh I fear a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like… flying, for example."

"But you fly all the time?"

"Exactly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"...What?"

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

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

"What do you mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, neither am I."

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

"No one is."

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

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

"Liebling…"

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

"Of course."

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

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

Not another lonely Christmas for him ever again…

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

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

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

"Are you still afraid?"

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

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

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

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writersdrug · 3 days

Note

You and Konig spend the night drinking and wake up to each other <3

Unsure if we’re hung over or still drunk

König and you being drunk homebodies

Warnings: vomiting/emetophobia trigger warning!! Mentions of sex, drunk reader and König, fluff, König being the caring partner we all crave

A/N: I know exactly who requested this and I'm sorry it took so long 😭 I don't even have an excuse, it just say on the back burner, but here you go! Enjoy~

Photo credit to 661ave

You don't remember much from the night before: just glimpses of this and that.

You and König dressed up for the awards ceremony, a glass of wine in each of your hands, managing to convince him to dance with you... holding some bronze, dark cocktail in your hands as König insists it's the best thing Germany ever made. From there, it only gets worse.

You remember laughter and giggles, promises whispered into your ear, making you blush... König pulling you outside of the event, nearly tripping over your own feet as he dragged you into a taxi... watching as he threw a wad of cash at the angry driver as you both shamelessly made out in the backseat of the car... continuing the fiasco on the loveseat in your home...

And then it goes black.

Last night, you felt like a couple of teenagers escaping a party. Now, you felt like you'd just finished a triathlon.

You groaned. The sunlight peering through the blinds was too bright, your stomach churned, your head was pounding, and there was something heavy and warm draped over your middle. You tried to push it off, to no avail - König made a sound, and his fingers twitched against your side.

"König..."

"... mm..."

"Get off..."

"... m... mh-mm..."

You sighed. You needed water - your mouth was drier than a desert, and every cell in your body screamed for hydration. You could stand to take a bath, too.

You tried turning your head to look at König - which was a mistake. The entire room spun dangerously, and your stomach threatened to empty its contents then and there. You slapped a hand over your mouth and threw Königs arm off of your body with all your might. You stumbled into the bathroom, crashing into the door frame and collapsing on your knees. You barely made it to the toilet in time to spill last night's dinner, gripping the edge of the bowl like it was your lifeline.

God, you thought, when was the last time I was hungover like this? Highschool?

As you were emptying your stomach, you felt a hand scoop your hair back and away from your face. You saw König out of the corner of your eye - he was only in his boxers, sliding down the edge of the tub to sit next to you, his legs splayed out before him. He held his other hand over his eyes as you finished your business.

You panted, pulling the handle to flush and squeezing your eyes shut. Your stomach felt better, but your head was pounding, like you were being stoned. "Thanks..." You mumbled to König, and he grunted in response.

"Better?" He asked, still shielding his eyes from the bathroom light.

You groaned. "Yeah." You sat back on the cool tile, leaning against his chest. "Never trusting any of your recommendations again, by the way."

He exhaled, possibly meant to be a laugh. He let go of your hair and rested his hand on your thigh. Watching his thumb rub soothing circles into your skin made you feel dizzy. To be honest, you couldn't be sure that you weren't still drunk. Between the spinning room and the lightness in your chest, there may have been a bit of drunkenness left in your mind - but that could have also been from vomiting.

"Let's not do that again..." You mumbled.

"Mhm..." he said, his voice hoarse from dehydration. "What was it we did?"

"Idunno. You told me to try a drink - I think I had three- no, four..."

"Jägermeister..." he mumbled in a pained voice.

You both sat there for a few minutes, eyes squeezed shut as you focused on breathing. The feeling of König's breath washing over the crown of your head was soothing, even in your half-dead state. You would have been content to stay like that, sat up against him on the cold, bathroom floor as you recovered from your hangover.

Eventually, König threaded his hands under your armpits and helped you stand, guiding you into the bathrub behind you. He murmured something in your ear about "need to get something", before he turned on the shower and let the cold water hit you. You griped and tried to change it to a warmer setting, but he told you to let it run for a few minutes. "It'll feel better, schatz."

He left the bathroom door open as he trudged - stumbling was a better word - into the living room. Despite the constant fogginess in his mind, and the ache in his legs, he was a man on a mission to take care of his partner (and afterwards, himself). He began picking up all the clothes that he had torn off of you and himself in a hasty desire for drunken sex. He would have gotten hard at the memory of him plowing you into the sofa, and at the sound of your drunken moans and giggles as he struggled to hold himself above you - but his hangover prevented him from having any sort of reaction to said memories. The most he could do was laugh and snatch your panties that were hanging off the corner of the TV.

He piled the clothes next to the washer and dryer, then moved into the kitchen. He fixed two thermouses of water for the both of you, and grabbed an extra glass and an Alka seltzer for him. He carried the items back to the bedroom, peeking into the bathroom as he passed.

You stood in the shower as the freezing water hit your back, hugging yourself and shivering at that point. You eventually gave up waiting for König and turned the knob to the left; you sighed in relief as the warmth seeped into your bones, melting away some of the fogginess in your head and making you feel less grimy. You leaned your forehead against the tile in front of you - your stomach lurched a bit, but you knew there was nothing else to come up.

You heard König slide into the shower behind you, but you kept your head against the tile. He whispered something in German that you were too exhausted to decipher. His hand gently slid onto your forehead as he pulled you back against him. You leaned there, eyes closed as you let his scent wash over you.

"Mein liebling..." he murmured, massaging his fingers into your shoulder muscles.

"Don't call me that." You spoke softly. "You tried to poison me last night."

He chuckled, rubbing a warm, wet cloth over your neck and shoulders. "Almost took myself out, too, didn't I?"

After a moment of standing in the silence with him, feeling drag the cloth softly over your face, you realized that he was replicating your nighttime skincare routine. Except, it was currently one in the afternoon, and you normally don't do it in the shower. You would have told him that he was using the wrong kind of cloth to clean your face, but you decided to keep your mouth shut. Both out of gratitude and the comfort of his touch.

He carefully finished washing your face, then your body, making sure to be gentle and slow. He whispered unintelligible phrases against your scalp as he turned off the water. He pulled you into the center of the bathroom and wiped you down with a towel - you were practically asleep standing up, but he made sure to hold you steady.

After you both brushed your teeth together, he helped you pull on some clothes, before letting you crawl back into the bed. He then went back into the bathroom to finish drying himself off. You kept your eyes closed, listening to the ambiance of König's movements, combined with the sound of the breeze outside.

You looked towards the window and noticed he had cracked it open. You also noticed there was a thermos and a sleeve of crackers on the nightstand, right within your reach. You felt a sudden onslaught of emotions and tears forming in the corners of your eyes; maybe it was because you were hungover (or at this point, possibly still drunk, you couldn't tell), but it finally broke the damn, and you began to cry, quiet sobs and sniffles breaking the near silence in the bedroom.

Instantaneously, you heard König nearly breaking his legs as he floundered over to you. The towel he had held had yet to hit the floor by the time he was kneeling by your side.

"Was? Was ist falsch? Are you ok?" He said, placing a hand on your forehead with a worried expression.

You let out a sob. "Nothing, it's stupid- you're too good to me... you're hungover too- and you- you did all this shit for me- 'n here I am, not doing anything at all for you-" your words melded with your sobs, which had taken over the conversation.

He sighed with relief, petting the crown of your head and planting a kiss there. "Liebling... I'll always take care of you- even when I don't feel gut." he murmured. "You always come first - but I promise I'll take care of myself too, ok? Just for you."

You sniffled again and nodded. "M'kay..." You mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to stop the flow of tears - you needed all the hydration you could get.

"Although, promise me one thing-"

"Hmm?"

"Let's not to do this again. It's not good for you, and I can't take care of you properly when I'm like this."

You nodded again. You'd rather be in hell than have this bad of a hangover. "Promise."

König placed a satisfied kiss to your forehead again, muttering a quick "Geh schlafen, süßes Mädchen..." into your scalp. He stood back up and headed back to the bathroom, picking up the discarded towel and rubbing it over his hair. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, scoffing at the bags under his eyes. Not what I used to be, eh? He thought.

He headed back into the room and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the dresser, and lazily tugged them on. He thought about putting on a shirt, but the idea of it made him cringe. He felt overstimulated enough as it was - the shirt would just feel suffocating. He then shuffled over to the bed and climbed in, pulling you against him with an arm wrapped around your waist. He sighed, tucking your head underneath his chin.

"At least we have all weekend, ja?" He said quietly.

You didn't respond, making him crane his neck to look down at you. "Schatz?" He said, holding his hand in front of your nostrils. He knew you were alive, of course - but the feeling of your warm, slow breaths against his fingers granted him peace of mind.

He chuckled, tucking his hand back around your waist as you slumbered on. "Süße Träume, mein liebe." He whispered, curling around you and letting his eyes fall shut.

------------

Bleh I wasn't too confident with this one, but I'm trying to clear out my drafts so I pushed it out. Hope yall like it! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 🥰

#konig x reader #konig #call of duty #konig cod #konig fluff #konig headcanons #konig blurbs #cod x reader

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cyxnidx · 7 months

Text

SHAMELESS.

KINKTOBER FESTIVAL : DAY 10 → KÖNIG.

prompt: open your fucking eyes. shameless little thing.

pairing: enemy!könig x afab!reader

rating: nsfw/smut

content warning(s): blood kink, belly bulge, knife kink

a/n: art by 661ave, nsfw under the cut!

moments ago, you were simply existing in a room, negotiating with what you thought would be your biggest enemy - about an alliance.

with, of course, winnings for both parties. you, getting your squad alive and unharmed, and him.. you.

and now, his hands roam your body, mapping out your body with slender fingers and needy intent. reaching past your waist, he lifts your thighs and holds you just above his waist. he lets out a satisfied sigh at the way your plush thighs seem to fit almost perfectly into his wide hands.

placing you on a table, he kissed your lips and trailed down your jawline to your collarbone while he yanked off your equipment and pants alike.

slipping your panties to the side, he began coating the tip of his middle and ring finger with your slick. he teasingly rubs your cunt before dipping them into your hole.

your cunt adorned and clenched around his fingers as they strech you more than you'd thought they would. könig slowly worked his fingers into your tight cunt until they were knuckle deep. they curled slightly in your cunt as he fucked you with his fingers.

slowly, he began fingering you whilst stretching you out. fingers hitting against your sweet spot, giving you a sensation which almost made you roll your eyes to the very back of your skull. it was almost enough to make you cum right that moment - but he stopped.

"why stop?" you frown. your eyes travel to his lips, watching him lick his digits clean of your slick. meanwhile, his other hand fiddling with his belt. a print was able to be seen through his pants.

he notices your line of sight and chuckles. "think you can take me?"

you roll your eyes. "don't get cocky."

"i am cocky, darling." he says, pulling out his cock from its confines. you almost drool at the sight - veiny, not too girthy but certainly longer than average.

you scoot your hips toward him a bit, cunt practically dripping with your essence. he laughs at your eagerness, placing a firm hand on your midriff while his other takes grasp of his cock.

guiding the tip across your already sensitive folds, he teasingly dips it in and out of your much smaller hole. "this might sting a bit, doll." he warns before inserting the tip fully.

you both hiss, him at the warmth and you at the feeling of being full - full for the first time in a while. he slowly inches himself into you, pulling you closer by your waist, basically being balls-deep into you.

taking in your figure, konigs eyes wander your body from top to bottom, noticing a slight belly bulge. he chuckles, poking at it playfully.

you swat his hand from it, wincing when he pulls out and thrusts into you harshly. the bulge pokes up from your belly once again, making him chuckle.

"i've created a bulge in you.. isn't that cute." he teases you, continuing to thrust himself into you, speeding up with time.

your cunt clenches around him, adjusting to the new size as tears prickle at the waterline of your eyes.

könig thrusts into your small cunt, belly bulge poking out cutely. it was a shame how you were laying on the table of seemingly an abandoned interrogation room, getting fucked by who's supposed to be your enemy.

all in return for an alliance, and your men to be alive and unharmed by the end of it.

könig pulls a switch blade from one of his pockets, running it across your thighs softly. he fucks you steadily, hands gripping against one of your thigh.

you could feel the sharp metal - it wouldn't take more than a small amount of pressure to create a wound on your thigh.

at the simple sight of it against your skin, your cunt clenched around him.

könig smirked at the reaction. "you like that. huh?" you didnt respond, basically, getting the air knocked out of your lungs when he thrusted into your cunt, deep and rough once again, his tip attacking your cervix. before you could recollect yourself, he slits your thigh, creating a shallow cut in your inner thigh.

you frown at the mark, but admire the way the blood drizzled down your thigh and eventually stopping.

"so pretty, for me." he mumbles lightly, looking at you once again and noticing you closing your eyes while your hand is over your mouth.

he frowns at it.

beginning to thrust into you more harshly, he places his blade against your throat. "open your fucking eyes." he feels you clench around him again as you open your eyes hesitantly, and chuckles deeply. "shameless little thing."

feeling you clench around him a little too tightly. he pulls out, admiring the way your body began to writhe on the table. "you wanna cum? on your enemies cock?" he inquires. you frown at his words. "what a slut you are." he thrusts into you again, grinning under his mask when he sees your expression change almost on cue.

he continued to fuck you rough, pulling out every time he felt your cunt clench around him instinctively.

and every once in a while, he'd add another slit on your body. on your hips, your inner thigh and outer thigh, occasionally putting the knife to your throat and forcing you to look him in the eyes - forcing you to maintain eye contact while practically pounding you into oblivion.

"you tried to cum 3 times now," he tells you, fingers running along your abdomen. "you wanna cum that badly?"

you nod and he adds another shallow cut along your thigh, longer than most you have. "speak."

you frown at his order but obey. "please, let me cum. lemme cum on your cock." you asked politely, voice almost scratchy from the continuous moaning.

könig tilts his head at your soft plea, but follows suit with it. fucking himself back into you, he smirks when he feels you clench around him once again, poor pussy overstimulated and needy.

without a moment passing, your eyes roll to the back of your head, orgasm bringing you to a place you've never seen.

and still, he didn't stop. if anything, he sped up as he admired the white ring that formed around his shaft. it fulfilled him knowing he could have you in such a way.

---

happy birthday to me :)

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daisies-daydreams · 5 months

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Hii live for your ao3 series it gives me life.. could I request a Köing x reader - where the reader spends a while making dinner for her and Köing, when they finally sit down to eat, she gets insecure about eating. you can pick the food. Thank you!! Xx (This is my first time requesting so sorry if it doesn’t make sense)

Always (König x F!Reader)

Image by 661ave

Pairing: König x F!Reader Category: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Depictions of Anorexia/Body Insecurity, Slightly (like barely) Suggestive Comments, Emotionally Vulnerable Moment Word Count: 1.9k+

A/N: Hello there! Thank you so much for your request. I hope it's alright that I based the story off of my personal experience with body insecurity and trouble with eating. Regardless, I hope you're able to find comfort in König's sweet actions. 🫶

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You hummed and swayed side to side as you stirred the thick beef stew bubbling in the pot. You've been in the kitchen for quite some time, having made the stew and biscuits from scratch. Flour and bits of miscellaneous ingredients were scattered along the floor and countertops, some even caked on your cheeks. Your mouth watered at the savory scent wafting up from the soup below.

"It's too many calories-you don't want to have to weigh yourself again, do you?" the voice inside your head hissed. You shook your head and tried to refocus on the task at hand. Snowflakes danced just outside your kitchen window as you tapped the spoon on the side of the silver pot a few times.

The oven timer beeped several times, its screech echoing inside the kitchen. You smiled as you wiped your hands on your blue apron and grabbed the oven mitts.

"You put too much butter on those biscuits-better only eat half of one tonight," the voice advised. You bit the inside of your cheek as you pulled the pan out, the biscuits fluffy and finished with a crispy, golden top. You sighed as you set it down on a mat resting on the marble counter.

You perked your head up as you heard the sound of keys jingling outside the front door. You quickly flicked the burner off and straightened your clothes and hair. A gust of frigid wind rushed into the foyer as your hulking husband stomped his snowy boots on the mat.

“Maus?” he called in as he slammed the large oak door behind him.

“In the kitchen!” you called as you tucked your apron into the wooden cabinet nearby. König grunted as he unwrapped his thick scarf from around his neck and hung his coat on his hook. He shucked his boots off and set them aside before strolling towards you.

“How was work today?” you asked as he lumbered into the kitchen, his heavy footsteps echoing against the hardwood floor. Your smile grew as his ivory face came into view; his bright blue eyes gazing into yours as his ginger hair remained tousled from his thick winter hat.

“It was alright. Mostly paperwork,” König shrugged as he slipped his hands into yours. You giggled as he spun you around and pulled you against his broad chest. You sighed and rested your chin on his pecs while swaying with him for a bit. “Hi,” he said softly. You pulled back and beamed as you craned your neck up.

“Hi,” you replied. The two of you held each other close as you reached up on your tiptoes. König grunted as you caught his chilly lips in a sweet kiss, your mouth lingering for what felt like hours before he tilted his head up.

“I missed you today, Mein schöner Hase,” your husband sighed as he brushed his thumb over your cheek [My beautiful rabbit]. Your eyes sparkled as he kissed your forehead, his massive hand splayed against the small of your back. König inhaled deeply before his stomach gurgled. He chuckled and patted his toned belly.

“You’re in for a treat tonight,” you winked as you led him over to the stove. König’s sapphire eyes lit up when he looked at the stew simmering in the pot.

“Ah, biscuits and beef stew,” he said as he excitedly rubbed his hands together. "You really do know how to spoil me, Maus," your beloved beamed. You giggled as he pecked your temple before eagerly grabbing two bowls.

"Go ahead and grab your seat. I'll bring you a bowl," he said as he began to scoop some of the steaming food into the ladle. Your smile tensed as you clenched your jaw. There was no way you'd be able to measure out your portion sizes if he brought it to you. You took a deep breath.

"Okay," you murmured in slight defeat. You held onto your stomach as you shuffled over to the table. You pinched and squished whatever flesh was there as you nervously bit your lip.

"Not enough," the voice spat. König cleared his throat.

"Ah, the Baumgartner's invited us to their place for dinner on Saturday. Would you like to go?" he asked as he plucked a fresh biscuit from the pan. You smiled nervously as you thought about all the food your neighbor's would make.

"Sure," you replied. "I can make my chocolate cake," you added. Your husband groaned as he turned around with the two bowls in his hands.

"Ah, I can taste it already," he licked his lips. You giggled at his antics while he took his seat across from you. “Something wrong, mein Schatz?” he asked as you shifted in your chair. You clenched your clammy hands and swallowed thickly.

“No. Everything's fine,” you replied. König kept his eyes trained on you before setting one of the bowls on your mat. You curled your hands in your lap as he said thanks before diving in. You stirred your spoon in the thick stew, pushing the different vegetables and chunks of meat side to side.

"I was thinking that maybe after we eat and clean up, we could do a little...catching up in front of the fireplace?" König lilted as he gently brushed his foot over yours. You blushed and squeaked at his suggestion.

"G-Großer Bär," you bit your lip and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear [Big Bear]. Your husband laughed heartily.

"We don't have to. I just missed seeing you all flustered," he winked playfully. You smiled politely before your thoughts were quickly pulled back to the piping hot meal in front of you. You squinted your eyes in concentration.

Alright, it looks like he poured in two cups of beef stew into my bowl. The average calorie amount of one cup is around 235, so two cups would be 470 calories. The whole biscuit (with extra butter) is potentially 150 to 160 calories. That would total to about...630 calories.

You nearly gagged at the amount of calories despite the fact your stomach was painfully clenching on barely anything inside of it.

No matter, there has to be "safe" foods in here. Let's see...celery. Four stalks is 30, so that'll be good. Potatoes? No, too much starch. Starch includes sugar and sugar is dangerous. But then again, starch is a complex carbohydrate, so-

“The stew is wonderful, Liebling,” König cleared his throat [darling]. You snapped your head up to see a gentle smile on his face.

"Huh? Oh, thank you," you said before going back to pensively staring at your meal. Your husband’s spoon clanked against the side of his nearly empty bowl as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“(Y/N)...are you feeling alright? You haven't touched your stew at all,” he asked with knitted brows. You glanced up, letting your gaze fall on his mouth instead of his eyes. You frowned, eyes stinging with tears as a lump swelled in your throat.

“I…” you paused and bit your lip. König waited patiently as you fought for the right words to say. You took a deep breath as you gazed at the surface of your wooden table, fear gnawing at your heart. “I…I can’t eat it,” you muttered. Your love leaned forward and furrowed his brows even more.

“Can’t eat what?” he asked, a sense of urgency laced in his raspy voice. You felt your throat tighten. You were so hungry it ached you to the core, your body wracked with an unbearable urge from only eating a few crackers and a protein shake today. You felt your stomach flip as you shivered beneath your husband's gaze.

“I can’t eat the stew,” you said a bit louder, the tips of your ears burning as you felt like a child about to be scorned. König blinked.

“Why-“

“I just can’t,” you interrupted. König’s face hardened as you stiffened in your seat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you," you said.

“It's okay," he assured you. There was a brief pause between the two of you, the only sound in the room coming from the crackling fireplace nearby. "Hase, please tell me what’s going on. I've seen the way you push your food around many times,” he said. "I don't think I've even seen you finish a meal in a while," König frowned. A blade pierced your heart as you sucked in a sharp breath, your heartbeat pounding inside your ears while your hand shook in his grasp. You sighed and hung your head.

“I just…I can’t. I’m sorry,” you said. König waited, the fire popping in the background as you clenched your jaw. “You wouldn’t understand,” you muttered. You flinched as your beloved slowly stood up from his seat. He lumbered over to the chair next to you and gently wrapped his arm around you.

“Maybe not, but it won't stop me from wanting to help you,” he said with a firm nod. You tilted your head up, eyes wide and lips parted.

“What?” you whispered. König squeezed your shoulder as he patted his lap with his other hand. You frowned as you climbed onto his thick thighs, your smaller frame fitting snugly in his lap.

“We've been through a lot together, (Y/N). Whatever you have to say won’t scare me or make me love you any less,” he reassured you before kissing your temple. Large tears spilled down your cheeks as your bottom lip trembled. You sniffed and wiped your eyes as your chest tightened. You flung your arms around your husband's torso and pulled him closer. He cooed and rubbed your upper back as you soaked his navy blue shirt with your hot tears.

“I-I’ve been struggling with making sure I eat enough,” you confessed. König continued to caress your back as he leaned in closer. You just barely glanced up before a bitter taste coated your tongue. “It started a few months ago. There really wasn’t anything specific that set it off, just a bunch of little things that snowballed. It...It all seems like a blur now,” you muttered, your body feeling unbearably heavy under your beloved’s gaze. You released a long sigh. “I’m so, so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I understand if you’re angry since I kept this from you. I-“ you gasped as König squeezed you in his hulking arms, pressing your cold form against his warm, massive body.

“Oh, mein Schatz. I could never be angry with you,” he whispered before wiping a hot tear that trailed down your flushed cheek. You sniffed he cradled his hand against your face. "You are so, so precious, (Y/N). It breaks my heart to see you go through this, but I'm not angry or disappointed in you at all," your husband affirmed. His icy blue eyes were filled with such warmth, you thought your heart would melt right then and there. You kept your arms wrapped around your husband’s large form as you continued to sob into the soft fabric of his long-sleeved shirt. König brushed his fingers through your hair as he rocked you in his arms.

“Shh, it’ll be alright, (Y/N). Mein Liebling,” he whispered as you cried into his chest [my darling]. He kissed the crown of your head, the sound of his steady heartbeat bringing a little comfort to your aching mind and body.

“I’ll be right here for you. Always,” König murmured softly.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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