#Siren könig | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bits-and-babs · 1 year

Note

Your fics are amazing! Would you ever write about König?

𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐃 — 𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆

synopsis : rumours of an elite soldier have the base reeling. murmurings of 'monster' and 'freak'. what happens when you come face to face with the beast, only to find he's nothing like the whispers cautioned?

pairing : könig x f!reader

warnings : 18+ mdni. war, violence, graphic gory imagery, self-conscious könig baby, little bit of hand kink, basic bitch smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, size kink, tight fit, sugar-sweet teeth rotting smut. this feels so basic… but I was struggling. please note, kilgore is a name previously linked to könig. I have used it as a codename 🙂

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Warfare training preps for the inevitable—those moments you need to fire a weapon and how to camouflage and navigate enemy territory without detection. These inescapable horrors are 'another day in the office' by the time you enter the field, the prickling chill of fear driven out of your system. Whistling RPGs are not dissimilar to the scream of your Drill Sergeant's commands, the cold, hard ground of a dilapidated building no more uncomfortable than the standard-issue barracks mattress you would ease your wearing bones into after training.

Fear, beaten out of each man and woman that slipped on the uniform, held no commonplace in the military. Weapons, the call to war, brutality and sirens did little to raise the blood pressure.

Whispers held far more weight and struck unease into the hearts of even the most desensitised of fighters.

It was inarguable that each military in every country, at any time, had its own 'boogeyman'. Notorious fighters with absurdly large kill counts consisting of three digits that inevitably earned a bounty for their head, funded by the enemy—elite warriors who acquired a legendary reputation that ultimately became horror stories. The Ghost of Kyiv, The American Sniper Chris Kyle. These military cryptids kept their enemies awake at night, baying for blood and begging for the piles of bodies they left behind to stop growing.

After years in the SAS, you were beginning to think that there was no such thing. Each soldier was prolific, brutally efficient and inarguably the best of the elite forces. It was only upon entering Task Force 141, a genuinely mean feat, that you began to hear the unshunnable, hushed whispers of Kilgore.

“Did you hear about Berlin?”

“Kilgore? Yeah, heard he blew away a whole Al-Qatala cell.”

“Twelve of ‘em. The hostages were traumatised.”

These mumblings had persisted for months, consistently updated with crazy tales of whole garrisons blown to smitheries by this massacre-happy hulking mass of pure military precision. You, like the rest of 141, elected to ignore the gossip. This was a battlefield, filled with elite soldiers, not a school playground.

✰

Austrian mud splatters your camo-clad shins as you sprint through the forest terrain, your heart lurching in your chest as your rain-soaked fingers almost fumble your gun to the sodden ground. It’s freezing cold, the gush of rain edging on a flurry of sleet as lightning cracks above your head. Clothes soaked through, the moisture and icy wind form something of a ‘Pact of Steel’, working together to deep freeze the marrow of your bones.

As you slip in the mud again, heel skidding across the slick soil, you realise how dire the situation truly is. Separated from 141 during the firefight, you’d navigated north. You continued running for the safe house once discovering your coms had been dispatched by a stray bullet— that certainly would have ripped through your heart and dispatched you instantly if not for the layers of plastic settled over it.

Thunder rumbles in the clouds above, the boom reminiscent of a distant air strike. Slurried earth gives way beneath your feet as you push on. Exhaustion gnaws at your joints as you scramble for safety, bested only by the adrenaline that buzzed in your ear like a vicious drill sergeant. “Move it! Do you wanna die?! Well fucking move!”

You can hear their boots in the mud, the advancing Al-Qatala mercenaries chasing after you and shooting blindly at your heels, competing with the distance and dense foliage. You’re like an injured fox, feverish bloodhounds nipping at the end of your tail— what could they do with an SAS hostage? How much leverage would it buy?

Bullets whistle by your feet, the proximity of some enough to set your hair on end. They’re closing in, jowls dripping with slobber as they attempt to close their teeth around you. Just a little mor—

Crack.

Chaos erupts behind you, the thump of a body and a flurry of shouts. Panicked voices overlay each other in different languages, Urzik and Persian. You scramble for cover behind a treetrunk, the bark cutting at your palms as you brace for incoming fire.

"Kilgore!" Someone shouts, and your blood runs cold, eyes wide as they dart around the foliage for the legendary soldier. The whizzing of high-powered bullets persists, dropping Al-Qatala mercenaries into the mud beneath them. You hear the yelled orders, Urzik fighters urged to retreat.

You're unsure if one fails to hear the directive over the din of warfare, but you hear the advancing feet of the mercenary advancing on your position—the squelch of the mud beneath the rubber sole of his combat boots. You scramble with your weapon, checking the gun's safety and readying for a one-shot shoot-out.

When a bullet shreds through a victim's head, the sound is reminiscent of a watermelon being cracked open. It's a sickening crunch. A wet spray of warm blood cuts through the downpour of rain, splattering across your face. Some of it is solid, brain matter and shards of cranium.

It's not silent by any means. The rain continues to beat against the floor, pattering in the puddles that had formed in sole-shaped prints in the soaked earth. Cracks of thunder sound in the distance, and the droplets drum against the leaves in the forest's canopy. However, the sounds of the firefight cease.

"You can come out," a voice calls to you. Accented; Germanic. You hesitate for a moment, once again strengthening your grip on the gun you'd clung to. Your lungs strain with the sudden intake of breath, ribs crushed beneath your tac-vest. "Ghost sent me."

Easing your head out from behind the tree trunk, you marvel, somewhat horrified, at the gigantic, hulking build of the man who stood in the clearing. Fallen enemy combatants surround him, a blanket of corpses draped across the turbid forest floor. A black veil covers his face, and his equipment litters his tac-vest.

You'd be lying if you said you were unperturbed by the sight. Instead, fear lurches in the pit of your stomach, and you freeze in place. It's only when your eyes catch the crystal white slicing through crimson on the patch sewn into his shoulder that the airy voice, which certainly doesn't match his enormous frame, brings you a sense of safety.

"The safe house is ahead. We could get you warm–– clean you up?"

✰

Staring into the bubbling pan of water settled over the small fire, you relish in the warmth that creeps across your chilled body. Still, you're soaked, the damp clinging to the threads of your clothes. The scent of iron still assaults your nose, the water that you pick off the fire cautiously heated enough to scrub the blood from your face.

Kilgore, who informed you upon entering the safehouse preferred to be called by his name König, had seated himself in the corner of the large, relatively empty room. He looked ridiculous like this, attempting to compact his body into the crevice. You don't doubt it's an attempt to ease the nervous energy bleeding through your pores, your hands trembling as you attempt to dip the rag he had gifted you into the hot water.

"Did..." You swallow thickly, glancing up at the Austrian, "Did you tell the Lieutenant where we are?"

"Mhm-hm," he nods slowly, his jade eyes watching you from beneath the face veil. They're sharp and bright, contrasting so strongly against his uniform's muted and inky shades. "He's planning evac."

You scrub the gore from your face, wincing as you feel the shards of bone scrape across your face. König's eyes bore into you from the other side of the room, watching you struggle to remove what was left of the grime the rain had failed to wash away.

"I've-... Heard a lot about you," you speak to him, attempting to cross the vast space he had consciously put between you. His green eyes gaze at you, unblinking as he watches your expression. König is trying to read you, trying to comprehend how you feel. He's cautious, trying not to push you outside of your comfort zone.

"About Berlin?" He asks, and his voice is so soft that it reminds you of a child attempting to speak after being reprimanded by their parents–– wary of a second bout of raised voices.

"Yes," you mumble, dipping the crimson rag into the water before laying it across your skin again, "About Berlin."

König hums softly, casting his eyes to the aged, wooden floorboards. The woodlice have chewed through them, moss growing in some parts. You can see he appears uncomfortable, his knuckles white from the fists that form in his lap.

"I didn't mean to scare anyone," König admits in a whisper, catching you off guard. His shoulders sag slightly, and you see him pick at loose threads in the knees of his camo trousers.

"N-No... I meant to say how courageous it was," you point out, watching his fidgeting hands still suddenly, "You risked your life for those hostages... saved them singlehandedly. No one else would have done that."

Hesitant silence settles between you both, König considering your words carefully as he stares at his lap. You can't see his face, the veil concealing all but his eyes, though you're almost sure he's stunned by your comment. It takes him a moment to discern his next step, but he finally lifts his body from the wooden chair he'd pulled into the corner. It creaks with the shift in weight distribution, floorboards straining as he walks across the space towards you.

"You also saved me," you point out, watching him kneel before you, "Faced a whole cell..."

König steals your words from your mouth when his huge hand settles around the bloodied rag in your palm. He doesn't speak at; first, silence hanging between you once again as he dips the cloth into the water. Then, he soaks it until it drips, droplets pinging off the surface, and wrings it out. His dorsal muscles ripple beneath the backs of his palm, veins a ballpoint colour and standing out against his pale skin.

"Ghost asked me to," he mumbles, carefully holding the damp fabric and slowly reaching for your face. He gives you time to pull away–– you don't.

"You could have ignored him," you whisper, suddenly breathless with this proximity. He still towers over you, even balanced on his knees, head and shoulders slumped over you. You can see the ocean green of his eyes clearly, the halo of brown flecks that cover the circumference of his pupil. His eyelashes flutter when he blinks, so pretty and oddly feminine.

The pressure of the cloth against your skull is so delicate. König appears to be afraid of hurting you, gently brushing away the flecks of blood in your hairline. He shakes his head gently, considering your kind words. "What kind of man would I be, Leibchen?" his voice is airy, tone flimsy.

Those stunning eyes take a moment to gaze into yours, searching for your answer. Instead, all you manage is a weak shrug.

"Were... Are they afraid of you?" You whisper to him, struggling to find the words to broach a topic that appears to affect König so profoundly. It's his turn to answer wordlessly, offering an equally frail nod.

König takes your chin ever so gently in his hand, his palm almost eclipsing the lower half of your face, and turns your head in search of further blood-spatter. He sweeps the makeshift face-cloth over your skin, focusing on removing the grime altogether.

You'd heard the cruel rumours, the whispers of 'monster' and 'freak'. This König you'd met couldn't possibly be the same they uttered about maliciously. He held a child-like kindness, the brutality of the job seemingly doing little to chip away at his humanity. The same couldn't be said about the others.

"König," you whisper his name softly, watching as he continues to focus on clearing up your skin. His soothing touch smoothes across your temple now, removing some mud speckles. "Don't listen to them."

You can see his eyes soften, once again turning to yours as you reach to fiddle with the edge of his veil. Upon tracing the border between the pads of your thumb and forefinger, you find that it's t-shirt material, the zigzag seam stitching rough against your touch like barbed wire. "They haven't seen you like I have."

Those eyes gleam with amusement, little crows-feet creases forming in the corners. He's smiling, and your heart stutters against your chest.

"That right, Leibchen? I've had a mask on this whole time."

The gentle teasing lilt to his tone makes you lightheaded, urging you forward with your frankly ridiculous plan. You begin to lift the edge of his veil upwards. You take it slowly, his pupils dancing across the bare skin of your face as you reveal the point of his chin. His skin is equally as pale there, barely exposed to sunlight.

König doesn't stop you as you continue to lift the fabric from his face, exposing the curve of his lower lip. The skin there is soft and plush, little creases in the flesh making your heart thud awkwardly against your ribs. Finally, you stop at his cupid's bow, so soft and subtle it's barely there at all.

You can feel his gaze warming your skin as you trace his lips with your eyes. Hesitation holds you still, uncertain about the final step of this stupid plan. König, as ever, doesn't push you. Doesn't even breathe. When you lean forward, the tip of your nose brushing his own that still lay beneath the cloth, you hear a sharp yet gentle inhalation. It triggers goosebumps across your forearms, butterflies battering the pit of your stomach.

Soft. His lips are so soft when you mould your own to their shape. König's veil tickles the skin of your face when you kiss him, and you feel his gigantic hands settle on either side of your neck as he begins to return your affections. They swallow you, and your pulse leaps against his palm.

König smiles, and the kiss turns toothy and a little lopsided. You can't help but giggle nervously, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as he presses gentle pecks to the edge of your mouth. Despite his massive, intimidating frame, each action is deliberate and soft.

"... Are your clothes still wet, Schatz?" He's breathless despite his seemingly put-together appearance, his nose bumping yours as he interrupts your answer for another fragile kiss. "We could get you out of them."

✰

Your standard-issue military t-shirt slips and falls from the cot's mattress as König gently pulls your hips towards the edge. His fingerprints have already bruised into your thighs despite his attempts to be gentle. When he'd begun to panic, you told him not to worry–– he'd already bruised up your neck with his teeth and lips; what was a couple more?

Butterflying your legs out for him, König groans softly as you expose your glistening cunt for him. You're shy, covering your face with your hands as his fingers massage the soft, malleable flesh of the inside of your thighs.

"Schatz," he whispers, and you peer through the gaps of your fingers. König gazes down between your legs, green eyes gleaming as he positions his cock between your folds. "So beautiful."

It's ridiculous, you think, staring down between your legs. König is huge in every sense, the shaft of his cock thick and veiny and drowning out the seam of your sex as König shifts his hips forward to swipe the length of him across your weeping cunt. You can't help your mind running away with itself–– surely he needed a weapons license to carry that thing-?

A weak chuckle sounds above you, and you crane your neck to catch his eye. "I will take it slow, Schatz, I promise you."

You believe him. He had been so delicate with you this whole time, laying you down gently on the bed, careful when removing your gear and your clothes not to let the material snag on your nose or chin.

König's hand disappears beneath the face veil, spitting into his palm before he smoothes it over the head of his cock. He groans, eyelids fluttering beneath the mask as he drags his hand over the length. It's a pretty sight, you think, such a colossal man shuddering in bliss. When he sweeps his cock through your folds again, he carefully taps the tip of his dick against your clit to illicit a whimper.

"Mhmm, gentle. I promise you," he repeats, inching the tip of his cock down until it settles at your entrance. The soles of your feet find purchase on König's hips, and he massages your calves gently as he begins to inch into you at your nod of approval.

Oh, Christ.

König stretches you the moment he sinks inside. There's a delicious burn, one that has you lifting your hips with a whimper as you equally try to escape and dive into it. He's wheezing, eyes glued to where your bodies meet as he watches you flutter around his size.

"Ha-So tight, Schatz," he groans loudly, stopping when you firmly grip the bedsheets. He notes your expression of slight pain, the tears welling in your eyes as your body attempts to accommodate the intrusion. König seemingly can't help the flurry of apologies that fall from his mouth as he leans over you, settling his thumb against your clit in an attempt to ease you open. "Here. I want you to feel good, Engel."

The tremors in your thighs rattle against his hips as he circles your clit slowly. It's blissful, the sticky, warm arousal that blooms through your abdomen as he teases at the sensitive nerves. You arch your back against the mattress, moaning out his name breathlessly as he continues to inch his cock further into you. You barely notice when he finally settles the rest of him inside, wailing softly when it twitches and knocks something earthshattering inside you.

"O-Oh fuck––" you choke on your curse when König shifts his hips forward, jutting into your cervix and winding you suddenly. You probably look ridiculous, eyes rolling back into your skull as you claw at the vast expanse of his chest. You drag pink lines down the pale skin, drawing blood to the surface, but it does little to phase König this far along.

"Good, Liebling?" He murmurs, continuing to assault your clit. You can barely form a coherent sentence in response, drooling around a string of 'yes, yes, yes'. It's all he needs to find comfort in advancing, easing the length of him out of your weeping cunt before driving it back in at an achingly slow pace.

You want to slam your fist against his pectorals and insist he go faster, but you're not sure you're ready for it when he slides into you balls deep. It's as though he's settling among your lungs, filling you so good that you're seeing static in your line of vision.

The sound of a desperate groan from above barely brings you back down to earth, noting how he's staring at your face. His pupils are blown wide, almost devouring the green of his irises. It takes you a moment to realise you're drooling, his slow and steady pace already pushing you to a mindless edge.

"Oh-" you moan, digging your nails into his abs. They ripple beneath your touch with each deliberate thrust, and König hisses at the sharp sting and the crescent moon indents they leave behind. "F-Fuck, König- Too much-!"

"It's too much?" He wheezes, eyes searching your face. You desperately shake your head, terrified he'll pull away from you despite the inching arousal building at the base of your spine. Wrapping your legs around his hips, your heels press into the small of his back and hook him in place despite your protests.

It sparks something feral in the hulking man, his hips surging forwards and jolting you up the mattress. Your breath escapes you in a squeak, arousal soaring and buzzing thickly in your abdomen as König mumbles in German, his soft voice coming out all gritty under the strain of his exertions and bliss.

"Mhmmm- fuck-" you babble, eyes rolling again as you lift your hips to meet his. He sinks impossibly deeper, and your breath stutters as you feel the telltale tug of your orgasm. "Oh God- König, I'm-"

"Tell me," König whispers, rutting up inside you. He doesn't bother to inch out of you now, repeatedly battering so deep inside you that you struggle to inhale as your orgasm approaches fast.

"Hngngg- hah-ah- I'mgonna- c-cum-" you choke with each sudden thrust, his thumb quickening its pace against your arcing clit. Perhaps he shifts his hips slightly or reaches even deeper than before, but he brushes against something utterly debilitating, and you cum with a loud shriek of his name.

It bursts through you with blistering heat, your fingernails sinking deep into the curves of his bicep as you brace against the waves of bliss that crash over you. König keeps fucking into you, your walls squeezing tight around him as his thumb persists in its assault on your throbbing clit. Tears stream down your face, and König can't hold on much longer as you strangle his cock.

"Hah-Shit-" he slurs, his voice barely reaching your ears as he buries himself as deep as you can take him. He cums with a haggard moan, body trembling as his cock spurts inside of you. There's so much of it, too, leaking out of you before he even manages to move.

Both of you take a moment, both stunned by the overwhelming ecstasy. König doesn't bother withdrawing from your heat as he slumps beside you, turning you on your side to face him. He offers no words, burying his face into the crook of your neck and holding you tightly.

Your chest heaves as you suck in oxygen, skin prickling with heat as König encases you in his massive arms. You don't need the sheets, his body-heat burning hot beside you as you press your skin to his.

No words need to be said, you think. König had offered his feelings in the form of his reverent touches and delivered his thanks for your kindness in the delicate kisses he'd pressed to your lips as he carried you into the bedroom.

As you lay in the dark, settled into König's side, you trace your fingers over the curved scars, the bulletholes that have healed over against his ribs. They rise and fall beneath your touch, lungs expanding and deflating with each breath. It's a sobering moment, the thrumming of his pulse against your palm reminding you of his humanity despite the whispers at the base that had insisted upon his bestiality.

You realise those who speak cruelly of him and ruin his self-worth don't understand their impact. To them, he's a cryptid–– his very existence called into question. They hadn't seen him with their own eyes, only heard the mind-boggling tales of his startlingly impressive missions and monstrous size.

They hadn't felt his heart, the way it fluttered against your touch when you'd offered compliments. Hadn't experienced the soft plush of his lips pressing into your own in heartbreakingly sweet kisses. He was no monster.

And when Lieutenant Riley came for you the following day, choosing to ignore the marks left on your skin and the way you hesitated before climbing into the helicopter to offer the Austrian a gentle wave and a promise that you would return, you began the mission to rewrite his story. To change hearts and minds.

It didn't take long at all.

"Did you hear about Kilgore?"

"I did! He saved a member of 141. Incredibly brave–– I heard the situation was dire."

"She spoke very highly of him. Said we could count on him."

"I certainly wouldn't mind fighting alongside someone so dependable and courageous."

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cookiepie111 · 7 months

Text

࿐Drink from the leche of sirens࿐

Synopsis - An injury könig comes across a lake and pretty nymph. Greek au könig x black nymph reader. No minors. Smut

Part 2 here

A/N-

An alternate to the fountain girl fic I wrote.

Think this might be the longest thing I've written. There is a Pinterest mood board here. Shout out to @cinnamonbunboii cause their comment inspired this fic. Please like and reblog!

Tags: @terra-713 @cinnamonbunboii @kneelingshadowsalome @bucca2

𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼

Deities are petty beings, twisting the hearts of humans when things don't go their way. König and his army may have won the battle but the casualties were high, he himself was beat and bruised. Its just a game to them and what do you do when you're losing and angry, you flip out, over turn the board and scatter the pieces. Think of a new way to win while your opponent garthers up their fallen pieces.

Scattered by the wind, what a cliche but it works, in all the commotion the soldiers were separated, placed in every which direction, on land, and both above and below the heavens. How petty all this because you lost. Somehow this wasn't the worst part of könig's day just the final cherry on top the shitty Sunday the gods gave him. His lover betrayed him, separated from his allies, battered and bruised and now there's nothing around him but trees. If not for the situation and burning rage in his heart he'd find the place quite peaceful, beautiful even, a nice place to die.

The deeper könig went into the forest the more the atmosphere changed, trees bend and shift, covering the sky above. The slow dance of leaves and bright glow of the fireflies. All of it leading up to a lake in the clearing. It all felt too to unnatural to be real, like sweet honey leading him a trap. Pressing into the wound at his side, the sharp pain brought him back to his senses, this isn't the place to lose one's mind he'd need to keep his wits about him if he wanted to live.

Even if he doesn't want to accept it there's no denying this would be a beautiful place to die. Even now he hates himself for still thinking of her, even at the moment of his death she still has place in his mind. she'd love this place, a backdrop like this would only accentuate her beauty more.

He walked close to the lake feeling the trees shift around him again. Laying back on the trees bark sword placed on the ground.

The waters surface ripples altering könig to the figure in the lake, its shape he couldn't quite make out. A head, a person maybe. This place could be cursed, it wouldn't surprise him. He stares back never removing his eyes from them watching as they stay just below the water.

If he's intruded on some beings land they'll just have to put up with him or force him out. He's got enough strength for one last fight. It is after all the way of the warrior to go out fighting he thinks, unsteady as he pushes off the tree bark.

You can't remember the last time you saw another human here, they often end up with your older sister although you doubt they've all been this large and imposing. Even injured he carries himself very well. The cut in his stomach only causing him to hunch over, you doubt the blood covering him is his own.

Once at the water's edge the thoughts of battle quickly die down. It a woman in the water, human she is not but a woman still. The skin of human women doesn't glow or shine. Their skin isn't adorned with scales of greans and blue hues around their eyes nor does their hair shift and swirl like small currents atop the waters surface like yours. No those features that were that of nymph. Women of nature blessed with great beauty. And unfortunately for könig drowners of men.

His odds are about 50/50 he wouldn't drown so easily but that wasn't a risk he wanted to take, with his body is failing him now, heavy breaths as he falls back to the ground. Eyes still on the nymph at his front, she makes no move, just watching.

It takes a few moments for her to move a few more heavy breaths and groans from könig for her to lift from the water.

When she comes out to meet him she bare. Thin pieces of fabric dropping over her waist and chest slipping under her right breast, past her womanhood, more like an accessory one would add cause they thought it looked nice than a piece of clothing. Thick curly hair swirling around her body

To think he could still get hard at a time like this.

Drowning doesn't seem so bad now if it is by her hand.Maybe a kiss from them would send him peaceful into the afterlife.

She stood over him head tilling side from side,trying to figure the man out. He hasn't said anything, he doesn't shout or draw his sword like the other men she's seen. He's also taller, bigger, more.... solid than other men, gracing a hand down his arm. Kneeling beside him, the injury is worse than she thought. did one of the gods bring him here? Or did he just wonder here himself? You held your chin swaying on your heels deep in thought

König felt delirious, he's injured, lost and now there's a pretty nymph circling round, staring, pocking and prodding at him. If this was any other situation he'd take her in the moment. Hull her over his shoulder and fuck her till scream or blesses him, gives him heavenly children. But he's tired and weak, he can do nothing but watch as she frees his egear cock from his tunic.

He's never felt like this before, grunting and wincing under her touch. He's sure she's sucking the energy out of him. Maybe its the bloodloss maybe it the fire at the groin the licking and kissing along his shaft causing the dizziness in him, eyes shut tight and panting as he comes closer to the edge but the release never comes. feeling her tongue stroke the entire length of him as she comes up.

The next moment for könig were pure bliss, something straight out of dream. To have her now Straddling him bouncing so eagerly on his cock, was a feeling he could never forget. The sweet stretch as she sank. It was frustrating not being able to touch her, She didn't move fast enough not for könig liking. He was too weak to set the pace, his hand only able to rest on the plush of her hip. Even if she used him like a toy könig couldn't help but throw his head back in pleasure at the squeeze of her soft walls.

Her hands explored the body under her, digging into the wounds, ignoring his hisses and complaints, pushing him back down before he finds the strength to push her off. It felt hot then numb, as she dug into his wounds.

With new found strength he bucked his hips, against her. The sound of their love making filling the forest air, his hands firmly at her hips to move her at a pace he found fit, fast and messy before emptying himself inside her.

When he finally came back down from the high he finds her form shake and ripple above him. The words die on his tongue, as her form melts down, and fades away into the water

He gets up able without stumbling this time walking straight finding himself back at the army base. König's honestly not sure if that really happened or if he was just crazy. He has nothing to show for the whole ordeal to prove it was real. He knows on the brink of the death the mind can conger all sorts of things to keep one alive but nothing could explain sleeping with a water nymph. he'd like to think he wasn't deranged...To imagine sleeping with being that would normally drown you but...

The only evidence he had was his body. The open wound in his stomach gone, his whole body intact even stronger than before. He'll think about this alot after wondering if you were really real. It would be best to get you out of his mind. Yet he sees you in the lakes and bodies of water and in the faces of women passing him by

You on the other hand couldn't believe your luck! Showing off the keepsake you'd got from the soldiers.

Red bracelet shining under the sun as you turned it on your wrist to show off to your sisters. Giggling and splashing round the waters edge. You're so lucky such a strong and handsome man!

"Wow what's his name".... "You did get his name right???" ... you didn't get his name. You didn't get his name! And honestly you're not sure which army he's with you can't tell the difference between the armours

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nrdmssgs · 8 months

Text

How your first kisses with Ghost, Soap, Gaz would feel

Masterlist Part 2 (Price, Nikolai, König) Part 3 (Nikto, Gromsko)

Ok, guys, let's go kiss some boys. No warnings here.

Simon Ghost Riley

At the point when you finally kiss, it feels like being able to breathe at last. The longing has been suffocating you, roaring like a forest fire deep inside your mind. When his lips brush against yours - you are exhausted after weeks, maybe months of self-restraining. You've been fighting your own thoughts, pacifying your needs. And Simon is here to finally let you lose yourself in the moment.

Cautious at first, your kiss grows more desperate with each next touch and every smallest caress. It's not the first kiss in your life, but it certainly feels like it. He doesn't just caress your soft lips - he shares his admiration for you, all tenderness, he never showed anyone before.

Eventually he will force himself to stop, cradle your head, let his fingers drown in your hair and switch his attention to peppering your face with little kisses. There is so much, he needs to tell you, but can express only with a touch.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

You still hear distant voices, music, laughs and exclamations, when he lifts you off the ground and spins around. Your dear Johnny, always there to make you laugh. Whispering sweet nothings, coating every word with thick accent, the sound of which makes you fluster sometimes.

You will laugh, barely managing to breathe, until his lips cover yours. No more spinning, ambient sounds fade away - only you being held in his arms so carefully now, only his little breaths echoing softly in your ears. Johnny doesn't let go, making a point: this is not a random whim, not a joke gone too far. He wanted it for so long, he's been dreaming of this very second, imagining how would it feel to hold you this close. But what you both get is a precious silence, that speaks louder than all the words shared.

A kiss, soft and tender. Then another one. Then the third. Each next is harder, deeper, so the last one is full of a fervent urgent need. Just linger in this moment for a little longer, and you won't be able to think of anything else, than him gently nibbling on your lower lip, ravishing in your deepened breaths and accelerating pulse.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

You might have anticipated something very modest and sweet. But somehow you end up clinging to his jacket, not wanting to let go, while he slowly caresses your lips with the most intoxicating touches. But that's Kyle, the sweetest guy out there, what are you even do-

"I should stop."

"Now should you really?"

And he deepens the kiss, bringing you even closer. And who could blame you for forgetting every bit of doubt and losing control, when Kyle is taking your breath away quite literally? Kyle turns out to be an absolute siren: his half-lidded eyes shine with pure joy and darken with desire, his face leans into your touch, his soft groan becomes the end of you.

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nevadancitizen · 8 months

Text

-> SEEING DOUBLE

synopsis: könig thought he was the only one that could hear and see you for a while. that is, until horangi mentions someone singing.

word count: 1.8k

characters: könig, horangi, player! reader, reader's unnamed friend

trigger warnings: mention of canon-typical violence, mentions of/thoughts of relapse (horangi’s past gambling addiction), hornagi is like obsessive too lololol (also forgot to add STILL insp. by/referencing @simp4konig 's self-aware könig piece)

notes: uh pov switches from omnipotent third-person könig to omnipotent third-person hornagi. oops lol also the temp. is in fahrenheit in celsius it would be ~26 degrees

König thought he was the only one for a long while. All these operators around him were only given minds through their code and pixels – König was the one with an actual brain in his skull.

That was, until another operator heard you.

You – and, someone else, maybe a friend from your world? – were singing along to some song unknown to König, mumbling the parts you didn’t know so well and bursting with energy at the parts you knew by heart.

König was waiting for the mission time to arrive in the armory, quietly listening to you and your friend. He felt some warmth from you – a small percent of what you’re capable of making him feel. Just enough to know you’re there, that you have eyes on him, to know the singing isn’t a delusion.

Horangi was also in the armory, his footsteps light as he peruses the wall of firearms. He plucks a Fennec 45 from the wall before turning it over in his hands and inspecting it – though he seems distracted while doing so.

He turns to König and adjusts his sunglasses. “Do you hear that?”

König looks up from the stray skid mark on the floor he was looking at. “Hear what?”

“The…” Horangi gestures vaguely around him, then taps his earpiece. His voice drops to a lower volume, like he didn’t want anyone else hearing. “The singing. Do you not hear that?”

König stays silent for a moment. He checks over his shoulder to make sure no one else is in the armory before turning back to Horangi. “I hear it.”

Horangi breathes a sigh of relief, but doesn’t say anything else. He settles his ass on one of the thick, plastic ammo crates, fiddling with the Fennec 45, repeatedly pressing the magazine release before pushing the magazine back in.

The singing stops, leaving only the music playing. Then, a voice is heard – “I’ve never seen Horangi do that. What is he, nervous?”

And then, your voice – “Hey, don’t bully him!”

Horangi’s back snaps straight up as he looks around the armory. “What was that? Is someone else in here?”

König pulls at his hood so he can see Horangi better. “You’re really hearing them?”

“Yes.” Horangi looks at König. “Where are they?”

König shakes his head. “It’s best if we discuss this later.” In reality, König was dying to discuss this with another person – it was as if this heavy burden had been lifted now that he could talk to someone about you, about this video game they lived in, about everything while actually having something to back him up.

Only a few seconds later, the siren sounds and it’s go time. Footsteps hit the ground and operators rush to the rooftops to be taken away to the hot zone.

When both Horangi and König are secured on the helicopter, they don’t talk for a while, only sharing occasional glances (silent promises that no, the other is not insane, and no, this is not the start of a mass hysteria outbreak).

When boots hit the ground, König feels that oh-so-familiar warmth flood his body, blooming like a lotus from his chest to his limbs. He nods to Horangi to stick close.

The music was turned down and all focus was on the battlefield – your silent guidance gave König commands to carry out, while your friend did the same with Horangi.

Commands are barked out by the operators, you and your friend give excited praise, and the battlefield is a mess of noise. Bullets fly every which direction, sprays of brrrrrr-AT! echo off the abandoned buildings, some of which were still in the process of being built.

This is urban warfare.

As a SpecGru operator turns the corner, König pulls Horangi back behind a concrete half-wall (half because the rest of the wall had been sloughed off by explosions). To König, the touch is nothing, but to Horangi? Oh, that touch felt like bliss.

It was you, striking a match and tossing it into the full burning barrel that was his lungs. Horangi pumped air into them like he was having a goddamn panic attack so that when his lungs caught fire, the rest of him did too. Your fire was slow, yet burning and hot all the same. It made him want to collapse in your white-hot flame and be consumed by you and not even care that he was ash and –

The feeling was gone, and Horangi was normal again. As normal as he could be when shivering in full tactical gear while it was eighty degrees out.

König’s voice breaks through the haze. “Horangi?”

Horangi shifts so that he’s sitting with his back against the concrete half-wall. “Yes, sir?”

“You solid?”

Horangi presses the magazine release and pushes the magazine back in. “The voices… our voices. The ones…” he gestures to his earpiece. “I heard them. And then I had a hot flash when you touched me.”

“Focus,” König hisses. “There’ll be time for that later.”

Horangi presses the magazine release and pushes the magazine back in. He peeks out from behind the concrete half-wall, then ducks back behind it.

“Ready, sir?”

“When you are.”

The battle is easy for König and Horangi when a benevolent being and a lesser one are controlling their every movement. It doesn’t hurt that the warmth serves as adrenaline, a body high that keeps them both alive and bold. Battle chatter fades into the background when that song and your rushed praise fills their ears and makes them feel warmer than you already make them.

When the last opposing operator falls, the message is relayed until every KorTac operator is back at the helicopters.

“Wheels up in two!” the pilot calls out.

König and Horangi move together up to the cabin of the helicopter and silently sit next to each other, hands working deftly to buckle themselves in.

Horangi tilts his chin up and lets the back of his helmet hit the headrest. He takes his sunglasses off and wipes them of dust and a spurt of blood. His eyes wander over the ceiling of the helicopter, quietly listening to you and your friend celebrate.

“Who are they?” he quietly asks König.

König leans closer to Horangi, the hem of his hood brushing Horangi’s shoulder. His voice is quiet. “I call them players. I know the one who told the other not to bully you. We… I don’t think we exist on the same plane as them. I think of them as a god. They help me – us, now.”

Then, König leans closer and whispers your name like a single-word prayer.

And, fuck, how Horangi wants to fall back into gambling so he could whisper your name into his cupped hands while he’s shaking the dice just as he rolls that blessed seven. His breath falters for a split second as he thinks of the divine luck you’d bring him at the craps table, your fingers – assuming you were even human, or humanoid – trailing down his arms, touching his wrist to imbue his hands with your power. He’d happily worship you if it meant feeding that rush when the payout is high, and… shit. Hornagi takes a deep breath before he quickly corrects his thoughts and directs them elsewhere.

He doesn’t even know where those thoughts came from. Well, he knows where the thoughts of relapse come from, but he doesn’t know where the thoughts about you stem. He’s barely felt your warmth, yet in your presence, he doesn’t want to be the big bad tiger – he wants to be the housecat that rubs up against your legs and gets away with knocking pill bottles off the counter.

“Can you feel them?” König asks in a hushed whisper.

Horangi nods. Your fire is a dull thrum in his chest, but your heart is beating right next to his nonetheless. “Yes.”

König knocks his knee against Horangi’s. “Focus on something small. Circular. Like a light. That’s how I see them.”

Horangi hums and looks at the ceiling. He focuses on a small red indicator light, his eyes unfocusing as he keeps eye contact with the tiny LED. And, slowly but surely – just as König said – something else came into view, slowly creeping into his peripheral vision.

It was a small bedroom – a shoebox, really. Dimly lit by fairy lights. A bed, a desk, a dresser… Someone was on the bed, and the other person was in the desk chair. They were both holding game controllers, facing each other. Talking.

“We need to play their Thanksgiving album,” the person in the chair says.

“To what, pregame for Thanksgiving?” the person on the bed laughs. “That’s months away.”

And with that angelic laugh, Horangi knows that’s you. The person laying on their stomach on the bed, with your perfect smile, perfect fingers holding the game controller.

You reach for your phone and unlock it, the screen lighting up your face. You tap at it a few times before too-loud music starts playing – a man yelling about how dangerous gas station tweakers are.

“Ay, turn that down!” your friend protests.

You grunt and turn it down a little. The music is hard funk-trap, and you and your friend sing along. It’s something like – “Closed casket funeral, but Imma have to peek in; tryna get real, like, sorry, I was sleepin’!”

Hornagi quietly listens to the rest, keeping his eyes still so he can keep you in his sight. You and your friend prattle off the rest of the song, even going as far as vocalizing the instruments.

When the song ends, you roll on your side and face your friend. “We should listen to their Halloween album next. Then their Christmas album. Then their Valentine’s Day single. And then start up their Thanksgiving album again.”

God knows how Horangi would let you. He’d love to watch you do anything – even if you’re doing nothing. He’d do anything just to reach out and touch you. Run his hands over your face and watch your nose scrunch up at his touch, your eyes squeezing shut. Your smile would be just like the one you’re wearing right now, accentuating the apples of your cheeks perfectly.

And he’d love to sit with you as that artist’s Halloween album, Thanksgiving album, Christmas album and Valentine’s Day single play, even if he didn’t understand the slang the men used. He’d rub his hands up and down your back – anywhere he could touch you, really – as you explained what they meant when they said they were gonna “pop a thirty an’ get real sturdy.”

And maybe one day he’d make that a reality.

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sunflowerzyk · 2 months

Text

König tritón 2.

En un paseo nocturno a la humana le gustó el barco pesquero.

König solamente lo va a hundir para ella, hay mejores barcos, no?

No hay nada mejor que agregar otro barco a su cementerio jardín submarino.

No sin antes deshacerse de los pasajeros primero.

König deja que la pequeña humana exploré hasta aburrirse.

Eso le dará luz verde al tritón para hundir el banco.

Sin pruebas de su existencia. Tampoco testigos

Ignoramos las manos, por favor, no vean las manos)

Reblog for more ^^

No creí que les gustaría tanto, gracias por sus likes y reblogs!

#könig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #tw oc x canon #Siren könig #konig cod #konig x female oc #i love him #fanart #konig x you #call of duty

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kneelingshadowsalome · 7 months

Note

i KNOW i might sound insane, but what if vampire! Engel sets up traps around her isolated dark castle to capture any animal that is unfortunate enough to step on one of them, because she swears to not ever consume human blood and swore to only consume animal blood

and vampire hunter! König unluckily (luckily??) stepped on one of the bear traps, and she heard a scream from outside, so she went out to check and SHE SMELLED the smell she tried so hard to hide herself from

And she just kinda stood there, drooling and saw a very big BIG man, she thought it was a bear until he pulled out her dagger and pointed it at her, while panting in pain

IDKKK ITS GIVING ENEMIES TO LOVERS? STRANGERS TO LOVERS????? I worte this ina hirry because im about to cry thinking about it

Oh god the angst exploded in this one… sorry not sorry but these two are just UGHHH

König thought he was getting rescued when he heard the sound of soft footsteps. His stomach sinks when he sees this is not the case: his situation is far more dire than he thought. Not only is he stuck in an old trap and about to lose a foot: he's being hunted by the most dangerous, most beautiful little predator he has ever seen.

She's prowling, hungry and keen, crawling barely ten feet away from his sorry corpse-to-be. Her eyes glow in the darkness as she licks her lips; she's looking at her prey like a cute little house cat, dark and treacherous and extremely curious. He can't understand how those perfect hands could've managed to set all these traps: they look so dainty and frail. But looks can be deceiving when it comes to vampires. She's probably stronger than an average human male.

He can't hear her thoughts, which must be filled with the desire to drink. He doesn't have to: any vampire hunter can see that this one hasn't eaten properly in a while. Her lips are pale, she's breathing fast, she even moves on all fours like she's either too afraid or too weak to stand. Her fingers curl around the moss as she looks at him; her body almost trembles with anticipation.

When he draws his blade, she lets out a hiss and recoils further into the shadows. He's a pathetic mortal and a weak man for mourning the loss of that pretty little face and those lovely, enchanting eyes. He knows that she's a vampire, she's supposed to seduce her victims, but he can't help his sinful thoughts.

No woman has ever looked at him like that…

No woman has ever prowled upon him, it's usually the other way around. It won't take tremendous strength to kill this lovely little creature, but it will take a tremendous amount of willpower, a thing he used to have in abundance before he met her.

"Shy one. Did you set all these traps?" He asks and lowers his blade. The woman slinks back into a beam of moonlight, now standing on her own two feet. Her hips sway like in a dream, her red little tongue darts across the pale, bloodless lips.

"Who else if not me?"

Her voice is cool, cascading silk. It's calling him in like a siren song, forcing him to lower his dagger even more. She's dressed like an angel, in the purest white. A cruel joke from a vampire, or a desperate attempt to recall who she used to be when she was alive.

But her eyes are innocent – she's either the most cunning vampire he's ever met or then she's trapped, far more badly than him.

"You like to torture your victims?"

His question leaves the creature blinking. Then the curious eyes narrow to slits, the confused, hungry little mouth begins to pout.

"No. The traps are not meant for humans."

"No…? Why am I caught in one then?"

"Perhaps because you're clumsy."

She's cute when she's annoyed. Vampire charms or no, she lashes out so tactfully and elegantly that he cannot help but smile. What a proud, stubborn little creature… She's a sad, lonely little thing, just like he is. He would love to take her home as a pet.

His eyes must be softer when he smiles because it throws the vampire off guard. She takes a curious step towards him.

"If I set you free… will you leave me in peace?"

Her eyes are big and pleading now, free of any deceit, and he curses in his mind. If she's trying to allure him into another trap, it's working far too well.

"Ja," he tries to keep his voice even, "But if you try to drink from me–"

"I don't drink from humans."

"...Why not?"

There's no answer. But she takes another step, then another, then floats down to help him out of the huge trap meant for game. Her suspicious eyes dart to his blade every now and then until he decides to sheathe his weapon. The old hunters would deem him dead after this, but he can only concentrate on the woman before him. Her weak frame summons an immense amount of strength to open the trap.

The scent of blood must be like opium to her as the fresh wound on his leg becomes exposed. Her nostrils quiver and flare, her eyes flutter closed as she sighs softly. For that sweet, soft sound alone, he would open his veins for her himself.

"Fräulein… Are you alright?" He asks while bleeding profusely all over the ground. If she attacks him now, the culling would be well earned. No man should be this weak-willed.

"You… You smell good," she moans, her voice filled with so much longing that he can't take it anymore.

"Scheisse... Listen. One bite. Ja? You can have one bite and then I'll–"

Darkness and light envelop him all at once.

She dives forward like an eager lover, her body cold and frail and yet, so demanding when it hits him like the softest tide. He falls back, taking her with him, the vampire woman who is everything he ever wanted.

Her lips tremble on his neck for a while before she opens her mouth and sinks her tiny little teeth in. What else can he do but clutch her – in pleasure and in pain as she drinks and drinks and drinks until he's hard and groaning under her. The pain in his leg turns into full, ecstatic pangs of rushing blood, his ears are ringing with the song of it.

All he can feel is her. He can feel her relief and her hunger and the quick but quenching thirst, it makes him so happy his heart is about to burst.

The shy little lady is all but fearful now. She doesn't seem to care that his hands are roaming across her back and all over her waist. No: she hums and purrs with delight, attaches to him like she's in desperate need of a release too. She hasn't had a hearty drink in ages, then. He's glad to provide it for her: death is a small price to pay if he gets to hold her like this. If she kills him in these woods, it will be a good way to go.

"You don't… drink from humans, ja?"

He tries to laugh, but his voice comes out as a dry croak. The body above him goes tense like a bowstring.

"Don't be shy, kleine Engel," he rumbles when a pitiful sob disrupts the drinking. He only holds her closer: if these are his last minutes alive, he will spend them with this woman in his arms. The reassurance works, in a way: she draws breath so fast that the last gulp turns into a suck. It forces his whole body rigid; nothing has ever felt so good. But then she stops, and lets him go with an agonized, heartbroken look.

Vampires can't cry, that's what he was taught long ago in the academy. The demons of the night are to be hunted because they can never shed a tear for their sins. But this angelic creature, now warm and full and lush in his embrace, has tears streaming down her face.

"What did you call me?" She asks with a frail, thin voice. The white shadow above him is made of pure light as his senses begin to fail. He barely discerns that she looks more healthy, even more mesmerizing than before now that she has had her fill. He whispers his last words into the night air, just before losing consciousness.

"An angel…"

It's dawn when he wakes up without ever expecting to do so.

Someone has kept the beasts away during the dark, dangerous hours of the night. His wound is treated and his water can is full when he comes to. She has even brought her some bread and cheese on the forest floor. Stolen, no doubt, from some local homestead. The only evidence of him holding her in his arms last night are the two little punctures he finds on his neck. Small, neat and cute, just like her.

It doesn't help to know that vampires rarely leave their victims alive unless they wish to come back to them. It doesn't help to know that the reason for their return is usually the desire to turn the victim into a vampire – into a companion.

He should pursue and hunt her, but he's too weak. Or that's what he tells himself, at least. Deep down he knows he wouldn't do it even if he was in his prime.

After all, he could never kill an angel.

#vampire au #pining #könig x reader #answered

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comfortless · 2 months

Note

AHH I was the anon from the Bear!Ko ask ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ I adore it so much like I’m kicking my feet and twirling my hair your ideas are CHEFS KISS AND IM GLAD YOU LIKED THE PROMPTT

Definitely not excited that you’re considering more hybrid stuff.. TEEHEE ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

BUT YEAH JUST THOUGHT TO DROP SOMETHING NEW CUZ WHY NOT! Maybe Ko being deployed on a mission to some wild terrain, having to camp out on the grounds for a while by himself. Reader taking interest in the behemoth and toying with him until he finds out they’re a fae or nymph

Or a game of hide and seek.. in the dark.. with him.. maybe even a wolf!ko

ONCE AGAIN ID LOVE TO SEE YOU WORK UR MAGIC ON THESE IDEAS (｡♥‿♥｡)

hi, 🧸!! working on something with a lycanthrope Kö at the moment, but this is… well it is something! i adore the idea of König with a cute (insatiable) nymph!! definitely give @cookiepie111’s Drink From The Leche of Sirens a read if you haven’t already. <3

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. fae nonsense (reader is a tree nymph), vague smut.

It isn’t that he ever intended to be here, not really. Simple surveillance, Fender had told him. Any knowing soldier would recognize the equipment that did not even need hands to tend to it, the cameras that should be set and monitored, and yet there were none in place here— just König, a loaded gun, and the stillness of the forest that seemed to stretch ever onward.

There’s been a lapse for the past week, with Kortac’s most adept at retrieving information out seeking just that, off with their radios constantly abuzz and adrenaline running rampant through their veins.

There’s an envy harbored somewhere in the back of his skull, twittering and hissing when he thinks on it too much… shelved for an uncharacteristic mistake to be left here amongst plants and scattered animal sounds, a temporary solace that would be ripped away when something new came through the chain of command; an overabundance of the very things he would care to think less about.

König hasn’t seen another person in days, not out here, tracking a vehicle carrying supposed smuggled weapons. There are no tire tracks, not even air traffic passing above: only gloom, loneliness, and the chill of early spring.

Then the abandoned house, where he takes refuge. It’s dated: the furniture all in various states of disarray, shattered porcelain about the kitchen and vaulted ceilings so high he doesn’t even need to bother with ducking to cross from room to room. It’s old on the exterior, stately, with vines creeping up its walls to reach the warmest height to bloom. Though internally, it is clear the place has not been left to rot for long: no loose boards, no holes in the ceiling or floor, just seemingly preserved somehow, as though time itself had come to still.

He doesn’t mind the daily patrols through the forest, the pensive stalking and creeping to find any hint of what he was after. Even through the night, when sleep forgets to lure him in for warmth and comfort amidst the pollen and silence, the walking never seems to grate on him.

There are lights, often, amongst the trees, faint pulses of glowing white that dissipate the moment his gaze sweeps over them. He’s read the fairytales as a child, even witnessed Conor get so drunk once that he shared his own tales of the ‘wee folk’, but König would feel a fool to believe any of that at face value. Most of his own kind were not interested in him, shying away with laughter or pitying gazes the moment he approached, so why would anything else be drawn to a man who could never quite scrub the blood from his fingernails or keep a conversation from spinning out into silence and uneasy glances?

It’s during one of these nightly walks that he first sees her, a vision bathed beneath the milky glow of the moon, ethereal, yet still nothing short of a proper blessing from the earth. Despite the distance from his path to her own, her body looks soft, bare and gentle. The growing thorns and clusters of ivy do not scrape her, only gently pull aside as she walks, tender and swaying like the petals sprung up from the plants for little fingers ghost over.

He only thinks that, assuredly, he’s lost his mind. The vision fades away when she looks at him, curls her lips into a smile… and then it is all gone. She leaves not a trace, no footprints indented into the soil he knows he had only just watched her tread. The flowers he saw her pull into being have vanished, too. All that remains is a dulled aura of dread, a strange thing that he has not felt in years, if ever at all.

König does not think of the woman until she appears again, during the day amidst the leaves of a sprawling sycamore. She lies against the bark, body resting over a healthy branch where she sleeps in a position so demure it sets his heart ablaze. The breeze caresses her hair, something he wishes to feel beneath his own fingertips; it whistles over her bare skin while the sun bathes her in rays of gold, filtered out through pinprick partings in the leaves, begs, pleads for him to touch. Forbidden fruit, too lofty to touch, too dainty for ash and blood.

He only walks away, carries on with the focus of his mission, reminds himself of every time that he’s sought some semblance of companionship and how those escapades had all simmered down to nothing but taunting echoes for sleepless nights. There was no need for any more ghosts, not even the pretty ones.

With nothing else in sight, he returns to that house where time halts and loses himself to want; swallows dry when he frees himself of his buckle and pulls out his growing erection. A release and an expelling of memory all in one.

He thinks of her, of her graceful walk amidst the darkened woods, of the way she lay, perfectly unscathed and beautiful, unknowing of any thing that plagues him, scatters from his grim expression right down to his very marrow. The imaginings… he would never speak of them, perhaps would only have the information pried from him that he thought of her smile when he spilled himself into his palm, but only if she came to beg for it with a voice he imagines must be tree sticky and sweet like warmed honey. Only if she came for him.

There lies a meadow just past an abrupt opening in the tree line, small and subdued by outstretched branches that curl over the grass and wildflowers still yet to bloom. No chill lingers here, as though summer stretches over the little glade and settles atop it with its warmth, masks even the little pond that does not seem to carry the same frosted panes of ice that the others he had seen do. There is fruit, puny red berries and hefty pears causing their limbs to bend, gently set them down for the earth and all of the animals roaming about to eat.

And he knows he’s stumbled upon her home.

He finds his voice when she peeks at him from behind the trunk, wide-eyed and curious with the softest curl about her lips, playful but tentative.

“Hallo,” he whispers, raising his gloved hand as if to wave, but curling his fingers into his palm instead. He’s horribly uncertain, caught between the alarming thought that he’s dealing with some perturbing nudist or something… else entirely.

“Hello,” she says, almost shy as she unveils herself from behind the tree, takes a step toward him with a tender look in her eyes and a long draw of breath. Sets his nerves at ease with her silent admittance that she, too, at least seemed wary.

König immediately tells her why he’s here, not in full detail, sparing the poor doe the tedium and the confidential bits that would likely only make her head spin, and then… he mentions how he had seen her, how the forest seemed to yield to her whims, her dancing beneath the moon that appeared to shine only for her. He gives her a curious look, undetectable beneath the darkened hood, pleads for her to explain in his own silent sort of way.

“I have seen you too,” she says instead, curling her arms behind her back, pushing out her chest, and… he doesn’t think to ask any further.

She’s the loveliest thing that he has ever seen or felt: places herself right into his lap when she guides him down to the grass. There’s sap on her fingertips when she presses them to his lips, curiously grazing them over his mouth as he speaks to her about the forest, a forest he’s already deemed to be her own, obscure princess that she was. She giggles when he dares to lick over each intruding digit, even gives a shaky, soft sigh when he suckles at one.

The nymph whispers things into his ear that he’s never heard before: things about each sprouting plant, of other things that hide away in the shade beneath branches and how they had all seen him too, about the earth and life and softer secrets about her beloved tree. Home and love without ever daring to speak words so simple. She does not ask about the dreadful things he does not think about, only lies back in the grass when he praises her beauty and the lovely notes of her voice.

He thinks for a moment that he should not touch her, should not have her grace wasted on something like him, but she rises up only enough to kiss him through the hood and he finds himself tugged down to tickling blades of grass and his mind finally does quiet.

She cradles him close as he claims her love for his own, steals sap from her lips and follows her sighs to a comforting oblivion. Her hands find his neck, his shoulders to offer gentle touches, tracing patterns like the intricate twisting of vines against his flesh all while he praises their union, her sweetness.

He doesn’t know how long he’s spent with her, the day seems to to stretch on for an eternity with the sun high above, but when he wakes… he is back inside of the old, quiet house, lying in the bed he knows with a certainty that he’s never even touched. Fender’s voice is calling to him over the radio, clipped and demanding for a report, one that proves nothing at all, a barrage of words filled with wonder and bliss with no intel on the mission.

And König isn’t shocked by the leave he’s given once he does return to base the following day. Three weeks time would be just enough to clear his head, regain his focus, pull money from his account to purchase that lonesome old house in the forest. He couldn’t bare the thought of never seeing such an angel again, never hearing the soft chittering of her voice or being blessed with the feeling of her beneath him, intertwined like the vines she so loved.

#könig x reader

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avelindel · 8 months

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“Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.” ~Helen Keller

#art #drawing #traditionalart #traditional drawing #sketch #pencil #cod #fanart #cod fanart #oc #anona oc #fan oc #cod oc #echo 3 1 #BottleCap #Coyote #Ghost #König #MadDog #Siren #Soap

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harveywritings92 · 1 year

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{Werebear! König and Werewolf! Ghost (R/n isn’t dating either, but they are interested in her.)

König and Ghost are giving each the evil side eye while having a late night walk in the park with R/n, she excuses herself to got to restroom.]

König: I was wondering for the longest time why my Schatz smelled like wet dog... Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

Ghost: Well, at least it’s better than smelling like musky bear shit!

{The two growl at each other when they hear R/n yelp in distress they see a group of guys dragging her into the bushes.]

Ghost: Let’s settle this after we take care of the trash, yeah?

König: *Nod*

[The two follow the men, a few seconds later the quiet park erupts in growls and screams of terror as one of the men is thrown out of the bushes and tossed into a tree like a rag doll, another is briefly seen running out of the bushes but a large hairy figure appears behind him; grabs him by the ankle and drags him back into the thicket! The sound of police sirens cut the bloodbath short, König quickly picked R/n up putting her on his back as he and Ghost run out of the park and back to Ghost’s safehouse since it was closer.]

#call of duty modern warfare incorrect quotes #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #werewolf au #werewolf x reader #werewolf #werebear #werebear x reader #call of duty könig #cod mw ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #afab reader

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cookiepie111 · 5 months

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༊࿐ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 ༊࿐

Part 2 of drink from the leche of sirens

Part 1 here

A/N: I'm back after what felt like f forever! Crying screaming throwing up it's finally finished! Part two of könig x nymph! Black Reader. I'm over the moon so many people liked part one i loved writing it. Love to hear your thoughts on this chapter or any ideas. Feedback,likes and reblogs are appreciated🙏🏾 also if you wanted to be added to the tag list please let me know. I've read this like a thousand times but if theres mistakes im sorry oop(Yes this title is from the new hunger games. I watched it and I'm obsessed! Please talk to me about it! )

Sisters in order of appearance Aganippe, Bolbe

Tag list: @montenegroisr @kneelingshadowsalome @havikshoochiemama @wordstome

𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼

Red. you wouldn't say it was your colour. It's a harsh and rough colour that didn't suit you. A colour you've never taken any notice of before. But you're seeing it everywhere. It's in the berries, the birds, and the flowers. You're seeing /him/ everywhere.

"Sister! Sister! What about this one? " You watch, fiddling with the braslet on your wrist as your sisters pull up a man from the water, he's tall but too skinny and smooth. not your man. A shake of your head, and he's shoved back down the water. Why was it so hard to find this man? You should have paid better attention to his armour, although that wouldn't help much. You're not well versed in the human wars and their armies.

"When did you see him?"

"Around the willows and lake i think it was xxxx "

one of your sisters hums, coiling her hair around her finger, oak skin still wet from the water. "That was Around the date from the Eastern fight, so he's probably with the reds or the greens " that was something the most you've gotten about him "but they're both pretty big armies." She stills looking up at you

"are you sure you were supposed to heal him" huh what did she mean, were you supposed to do anything with him? he just found his way there to you, you could do whatever you wanted with him right?. You weren't sure what your sister was asking, the look on your face must have made her nervous "I mean, maybe you shouldn't have let him go"

𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼

Magic is believing its a lot faith. There aren't any other options könig has so faith and believing are the only things he can hold on to. Belief, that the charm held tightly in his hands, will bring out a nymph, and faith he'll see you again.

The water ripples in the centre, slowly then rapidly, as bubbles ascending into the air.

This is what könig hates about magic it's too unpredictable, it's recklessness, and lacks control. Makes it hard to challenge and counter it. He needs to be in control, know all the moves his enemy could make, and magic doesn't allow that.

The lady standing in the water isn't the one könig's looking for. Her presence is off in every wat, from her appearance to the way the air moves around her. Her hair falls straight down her body it only moves at the tilt of her head. He expected this. Of course, finding his little nymph wouldn't be in easy task, but he more than ready.

"You're not the one I'm looking for," his efforts to keep composure are wasted on her, try as he might to stay neutral, its hard to miss this annoyance that slips in his voice.

"I'm sure I can be just as good," she responds, wearing a warm and gentle smile that never reaches her eyes. It's wasted time trying talking to her, he needs answers not idle conversation.

The waters are calm and still, yet his legs weigh heavy in the water. He's fighting against the waters just to make it to her, he shadows the sun just standing infront of her. He knows his presence is off putting, most women would have turned and run they wouldn't let him get his close. She only smiles the closer he gets.

König feels his feet sinking, or at least it seems that way. When he turned to gaze at her, she's still adorned with that same smile. Only König's looking up at her, not down, His knees are immersed in muddy water. She's now beaming with joy from her new catch.

Her hand catch könig's chin as he struggles to break free, forcing his face to her "hey don't worry. I'll tell her how good you tasted!"

So she does know where she is. That's all könig needs to know, ripping himself from the mud. She stares blankly at him, unimpressed by his display of strength.

"Where is she?" König's hand wrapping round her throat

"Haha, what's this? Are you trying to hurt me?" she dismisses him. König watched as her body phased between liquid and solid trying to worm her way out. Her face drops as she panicked, clawing at his hand while he tightened his grip. " You'll talk"

They struggled for a bit before she let out a screech, causing König to loosen his grip just enough for her swim away. Regaining his wits, könig stands straight in the water, looking around. He'd lost her, but He'll remember this for next time. The spirits are tricky things

𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼

A high-pitched shriek ripples through the air, your sister rushing by, tears streaming down her face, complaining to everyone she passes, "YOUR STUPID SOLDIER ASSAULTED ME!"

"Your soldier?" Your attention sharpens at her call – she found him. She found him! Oh, she found him.

"That stupid man asked for you. He nearly killed me! He's such an ugly and scary thing, why else would he cover his face?". I thought you said he was cute!

Another sister chimes in, "You're just mad you have terrible luck with masked men." Your sister's face burns, her eyes sharpening as she turns to you, "If I see him again. That man is as good as dead." Ah, she's serious. It's best you find him soon.

𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼

There isn't a better colour for könig than red. It suits him quite well. It's the colour of the flag he waves high, the flames that light the night, that clear the way for a sege.The blood that paints his body in all its many shades after battle. more than that. It's His source of comfort, his efforts, and proof of his labours turned physically in the form of a carnelin bracelet that sits on his wrist.

The only proof of his nymph he ( had). He'd never be so careless as to lose it. in all his years, he never lost it, if its gone, it's only because it's been taken. He can't lie he is a bit annoyed You took it, but in exchange for his life, he couldn't complain.

He should go clean up he's a mess from that encounter with that other nymph. It's not enough to warrant a full bath, just his face he can wipe his body down with a towel. He wipes the towel across his face, reaching down to wet the towel. In that moment, he freezes, there atop the bubbling water, a carnelin bracelet.

#könig x black reader #könig x nymph!reader #könig x reader #cod x black reader #x black reader #könig x y/n #my wtiting #könig imagine #könig x you #call of duty x black reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 7 months

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Hello, my little bumblebees!

Welcome to my tiny corner here on Tumblr.

You can find all of my works for multiple fandoms here <3

Here is who I write for and my request rules!

🐝••••••••••••••••••🪻••••••••••••••••••🐝

Events

Fi's Christmas Market ☃️

Resident Evil

Leon S Kennedy

Series

♥︎ Lost and Found ♧ 1. 2. 3. (Complete!)

• you survived Raccoon City with Leon, but got separated and thought he was dead. After 6 years, you reunite with him on a mission in Spain, rescuing Ashley Graham. What happens once he's pushed back into your life all of a sudden?

One shots

♥︎ Raindrops falling on my heart ♡

♥︎ Random Leon headcannons

♥︎ Sleepy desperation ♡ (nsfw)

♥︎ Rocking the Tides 🌊 (nsfw)

♥︎ Renaissance!Leon headcannons 🩷☁️ (nsfw)

♥︎ Everybody loves Somebody 🫀

♥︎ Back to me 🖤

♥︎ Brick by Brick 🎄

♥︎ Tradition and Love 🌹

♥︎ Red Ribbon ❣️ (nsfw)

♥︎ Stuffed Heart 🧸

♥︎ Siren!Leon headcannons 🧜🏼‍♂️🐚

♥︎ All I see is Red ♦️

♥︎ The honey to my moon 🌬 (nsfw)

♥︎ The Kiss of a Siren 🫧

Jason Todd

♥︎ The Hercules to my Meg ♤

♥︎ Paper Rings 🩷

♥︎ Wrapped 🎁

Bale!Bruce Wayne

♥︎ BATtrayal

♥︎ My precious Jewel ♧ (nsfw)

♥︎ Dating Bruce has his assistant headcannons

♥︎ Bruce secretly being in love with assistant!reader

♥︎ Bruce x assistant!reader 3 ♡

♥︎ Burning Touch ♠︎ (nsfw)

♥︎ Deck the Halls 🎻

♥︎ Diamond Rings 💫 (nsfw)

♥︎ Bruce taking your virginity ♡ (nsfw)

♥︎ PALentines day 💋

♥︎ Sweet as a Peach 🍑

Dick Grayson

♥︎ Nightingale 🕊

Ghost (Band)

Terzo Emeritus

♥︎ Garden of Love ♡

♥︎ Phantom of my Soul 🌙

Stardew Valley

Abigail

♥︎ Knight in shining armor

Baldur's Gate 3

Astarion

♥︎ The sweetest Taste ♤

Linked universe

The Chain

♥︎ Home is where the Heart is 🌱

Misc.

♥︎ Aching Heart left there in the Cold ♡

Call of duty

TF141

♥︎ TF141 w/ a chubby girl ♡

♥︎ TF141 getting a boudoir photo album as a wedding gift ♡ (nsfw)

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

♥︎ tit man Johnny hcs 🤍 (suggestive)

♥︎ Mo ghràdh mòr 🩶

Simon "Ghost" Riley

♥︎ Simon relationship hcs ♡

♥︎ Simon Riley NSFW hcs ♡

♥︎ Phantom of the Ball 🥀

König

♥︎ Königs German specific quirks <3

🐝••••••••••••••••••🪻••••••••••••••••••🐝

There's more to come~

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waves-against-a-cliff · 1 year

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Obsession - Cannibal König x You

Warnings - Knife kink, mentions and encouragement of cannibalism, mild feederism, blood kink, rough sex, mentions of edging, overstimulation, squirting, unrealistic sex expectations, mentions of choking, knife being held to throat, oral (fem receiving) Top König, Bottom reader, Fem reader

Cannibal König developed an obsession with blood. It came with territory and it was before he even got a taste of human flesh and only got worse with time. His mind was always filled with thoughts of blood, intrusions mostly, but he would crave it like a vampire. A monster. He supposed he was that. But when he had stumbled across you, covered in blood and committing one of the most serious sins of all… it became more then a hunger. It became a lust. He encouraged your cannibalism, offering spare body parts of enemies he had brutally torn apart, just to see the blood drip down your chin. Just so he could push up his mask and lock his lips with your bloodied ones.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when one day, during a friendly sparring knife session, he came to draw blood from you. At first he panicked, too caught up in the thrill of the fight to notice that when he had you pinned, dull training knife to your throat, he had pushed it down too hard. And the familiar red droplets leaked from the minor wound, he licked his lips instinctively, feeling a sudden bulge in his pants. He ignored it and quickly rushed off with you to get you patched up.

Of course he wasn’t the only one hot and bothered. His smell, a mixture between his natural musk and the salty aroma of sweat usually got you going during sparring anyways. Always ready to jump his bones as soon as the two of you were in even a slightly secluded area. But the sting from the knife should have been painful, shouldn’t have made you form a wet patch on your panties quicker then ever before. The sight of his pupils constricting like they did on the battlefield when they landed on the blood should have made you scared. But it didn’t. The sting felt good, bordering on the line of pain and pleasure.

“Oh Schatz…” he muttered, pushing you lightly on the bed, grabbing the first aid kit from the bathroom. “I’m so sorry.” He finished, dabbing away the blood. Trying hard not to focus on the idea of lapping up the blood but instead of focus on treating your wound.

“Don’t be.” You smiled, hand grabbing onto his wrist. He looked into your eyes and knew that look you gave him. The half-lidded siren eyes, the eyes that promised him mind blowing sex, as if it wasn’t mind blowing every time anyways. His shaking finger dropped the cotton ball onto the bed as he swallowed nervously. It had been a while since he had been nervous about sex with you. Always confident and happy to indulge in your shared kinks, but this would be a new bridge to cross. Different then choking, different then overstimulation. It would be dangerous and violent. You moved one of your fingers to wipe up from blood, and held it up to his mouth. He greedily sucked on your finger, moaning as the taste of your blood filled his mouth. “What a sight.” You whispered, eyes watching him before flickering down to the nightstand drawer where you kept your switchblade.

He smirked at you before pulling open the drawer and grabbing the weapon, flicking it open to show the well maintained piece of metal. He set it down on the nightstand before pulling off your clothes like a man on a mission, and he was in his mind. He wanted you bare in front of him, so he could see your skin and where it was and wasn’t scarred from years of working in the military. He took a moment to appreciate all your curves, the plushness of your thighs and stomach. How strong your arms and legs looked, muscle showing underneath a layer of fat, encouraged by his constant insistence to eat more flesh. He stared at your chest, how you had immediately laid down for him without asking. He looked into your eyes, searching for any sense of hesitation or fear but only lust and trust looked back at him. König kissed at your neck, nipping at it with his sharpened teeth to leave marks hidden just well enough so you wouldn’t be in trouble later.

Whimpering as he trailed his hot kisses down your body, latching onto one of your nipples, perky and ready to be given attention. While he licked and sucked on one, his fingers pinched and pulled lightly at the other. "Fuck." You whisper, bucking your hips subconsciously. König growled, using his large forearm to keep your hips from bucking against his chest. His hand stopped playing with your nipple and reached for the switchblade, looking at your eyes widened at the sight of the blade tracing lightly against your skin, dipping the skin but not breaking it.

"So beautiful." König whispered, pressing down and drawing blood from a spot on your arm. Watching with fascination as the blood leaked from the tiny wound before he leaned down and licked it away. You whimpered, the feeling of skin breaking becoming pleasure in the most toxic way and the way König lapped up the little bit of blood causing you to moan. Trailing the knife down to your navel, breaking skin again but leaving a longer wound, letting the blood flow before he sucked on it, moaning against the taste. He wasn't unfamiliar with the taste of your blood, having spent hours between your legs during your period but he had never licked a wound clean of blood. He had never had the taste of blood pure and not mixed with your arousal. König's other hand dipped down to your pussy, gathering up the slick on his fingers before he began to expertly move circles around your clit. Gasping, your back arched, pushing the switchblade into your skin and causing another wound. The stinging, the shock of pleasure from your clit, it all mixed together like a cocktail and you felt drunk on both pain and pleasure.

Breathy moans filled the room as König kept up the pace on your clit, nicking your skin to draw blood occasionally before licking it away. He felt intoxicated and he hadn't even begun. His fingers traced over your hole, clenching against nothing before he sunk both digits into your velvet walls as he drew the blade down your leg, sucking up the blood. "König!" You moaned, hands latching onto sheets as he began to fuck you mercilessly with his fingers.

"Yes schatz?" He asked, blinking his blue eyes at you from behind pretend innocence as he wrecked your insides. He was precise about everything and sex wasn't really different. König knew all the things that drove you mad, made you sob for more or beg for him to stop before whining that he did.

"More." You breathed between moans, bucking your hips into his fingers. You wanted everything, the pain, the pleasure, the sick sadistic way König looked at you bleeding. You wanted that blade against your neck as he fucked you senseless god damn it. Yours eyes said everything he needed know as he curled his fingers against the spongy part that made your eyes roll into the back of head and made you cry out in pleasure. His name spilled out of your mouth, his real name, it echoed off the walls as he quickly brought you to your high with expertise. You were ready, teetering on the edge of the cliff and ready to fall over as he added a third digit into you. The stretch hurt in the most beautiful way, your walls clenched and unclenched around his fingers as stars sparkled in your vision.

König pulled his fingers out, sucking on them for a moment before he dove between your legs. His slight stubble scratching and irritating the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. König kept your hips from moving with on forearm, tracing the blade gently against your inner thigh, your breath hitching at the feeling of the slight sting. He found no difficulty with bringing you to another high, his expert tongue moving in and out of you as his thumb rubbed against your clit. Yours fingers tangled into his hair as the pleasure burned into your stomach, the line growing taut within no time. "Please," You begged, even if you didn't need to. You didn't want him to stop, knowing he loved to edge you just as much as he loved to keep edging you. You two had spent hours when on leave with him constantly bringing you the brink of ecstasy before tugging you away.

"Don't worry liebling." König muttered, his accent growing thick like honey as he grew drunk on the taste of you. Burying his face further into your mound, his hooked nose rubbing deliciously against your clit as your grip in his strawberry locks tightened. Bucking your hips into König's face as he threw you over the edge into ecstasy. Trying to pull away from his tongue, he gripped your thighs with both hands, the cool metal sheath of the switchblade pressing into your skin as he forced you still. It became clear he wouldn't stop, overstimulation quickly over taking your fuzzy mind. You whined, trying to pull away, whimpering about you couldn't do another, "I know you can." He growled, his grip becoming bruising as he pushed his tongue in and out of you. Happily lapping up the previous orgasms as a different feeling quickly made itself present in your stomach.

"W-wait!" You said, out of breath as you tried to warn him. It didn't feel right, not that didn't feel good. The overwhelming feeling was becoming too much, his eyes locked with yours as König grinned into you pussy. He knew what he was doing and you threw your head back as you gushed all over his. The juices soothing the burning from his stubble, both hands gripped your thighs as he lifted himself from between your legs. He wanted you high on pleasure before he did this, lifting the knife to cut a messy K into your thigh. You sucked in a breath, the pain dancing with the pleasure, tears in the corner of your eyes. The safe word echoed in your mind, ready to be spoken the moment it was all too much but never left your mouth as he continued to carve his name into your plush thighs. And as he finished, he drank up the spilled blood before he looked at your blown out pupils, chest heaving with a cocktail of sensations dancing along your nerves.

It was then that you realized König was still clothed, although there was spot on his shirt that was wet from where you had bucked against his chest. He unhooked his belt, tossing it somewhere in the room that was known for swallowing up his belts and tugged off his pants with his boxers with the speed of a god. König pushed your legs back, as close to your chest as he could get it without hurting you as he lined himself up against your aching hole. Your hands gripped his forearms as he pushed into you completely, bottoming out with ease thanks to his early foreplay. Gasping around the pleasure, he never failed to make you feel so full, enough that you could feel him in his lungs as he bullied his cock against your cervix. One hand held the blade against your throat, not being able to focus well on pressing it into your skin as he quickly lost himself inside your velvet walls.

"König!" You called out, nails scratching into his skin as he found the spot that made you see stars. Making it his current mission to hit it as frequently as possible, he wanted to feel you cum around his cock before he finished. König needed to feel your walls clench and milk him for everything he was worth and it was clearly working as you back arched further off the bed. The lewd sounds of wet skin slapping together, the squelches that came from your pussy as it swallowed him over and over again.

"Come on schatz." He encouraged, sweating making his skin glisten in the shitty lighting of the room. "Want me to cum inside?" König teased, knowing that you did. You nodded reverently, his name a prayer you repeated over and over again as he quickly brought you over the edge. Practically screaming as the orgasm ripped through you like a hurricane, his hips stuttering and finding it difficult to move from how hard you clenched around him. "Fuck." König muttered, leaning over to kiss you as he came inside you. Murmuring your name and promises of devotion against your lips as he filled you up to the brim

#cannibal könig #cannibal reader #konig #konig smut #konig x you #konig x reader #könig smut #könig x you #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #mw2 smut #konig cod #konig mw2

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