SUMMARY: König urgently needs a housemaid. But when you start showing up in sinfully short skirts, he soon comes to regret that decision…
WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT. pervert!König, stalker!König, age gap (reader is in her early twenties, König is in his late thirties), size kink, m! and f!masturbation, brief oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie, glimpse of aftercare.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: a little treat for my best, most patient König girlies🥺
wordcount: 2,9k
It was supposed to be a side hustle.
A little financial boost for your tuition fees that never seemed to become any less, no matter how much you paid off at the end of each month.
And at the first glance, it did seem like the perfect opportunity.
“Urgently looking for a housemaid. Paying $1000 for approx. 10h a week.”
Housemaid.
Not your usual preference for a job, but for that pay? You simply couldn’t ignore it. You quickly pulled your phone from your handbag and took a photo of the contact information scribbled beneath the short description.
One phone call later, which was answered by a raspy male voice—the kind of thickness you’d get after sleeping for 10 hours—you basically had the job. No background checks, no interview—just a relieved sigh when you introduced yourself and told him what you were calling for.
The only thing he’d asked from you was to come over the following Monday so he could show you around the house.
And so you did.
However, what you didn’t expect—your soon-to-be employer being a beefy, good-looking man in his late thirties. So freaking tall, your neck hurt merely from trying to maintain eye contact.
You were almost glad when he told you why he needed a housemaid so urgently.
Deployment.
Of course he was in the military. What else would he need those defined back muscles, which were so beautifully outlined by the tight black gym shirt he was wearing, for?
Images of him pushing you up against the kitchen counter came flooding your mind—even as you tried to concentrate on his rambles about the marble countertops and oh how invaluable they were to him.
And you had met him just five minutes ago.
This might become a problem.
“—inherited them from my late grandparents, it’s the only irreplaceable furniture in here.”
You blinked a few times, trying to shove any indecent thoughts about him to the back of your mind as he opened the cabinet under the sink. Pulling forward a bucket full of brand-new cleaning utensils, he turned towards you.
“There’s more in the bathroom. Just have a look. If you run out, give me a call.”
You nodded before he shoved it back inside and proceeded to go upstairs.
God, that damn accent too.
Many empty and half-filled moving boxes laid splattered around the floor, and judging by how quickly he led you through the mess, carelessly kicking a box out of the way, you assumed he was less than proud of the mess he’d left sitting around in his own home.
Finishing up, he told you what exactly he’d need you to take care of, where to find the spare key in case you needed one, and some stuff about the heating you didn’t understand anyway.
“That’s all for now.” He gave a tight smile as he brought you back to the front door, opening it for you. “I will be leaving for three months on Friday. If you could check in twice a week and take care of the stuff I told you, that’d be great.”
“Sure,” you agreed, slipping into your shoes and squeezing past his broad frame before he could move out of the way.
And just for a split moment as you passed him, his eyes dropped to the sweet curve of your ass.
Well, fuck.
“Oh, and just so you know—there are security cameras installed around the house. They switch on whenever there is movement.” König called after you as you had turned to leave.
He never really cared about the files submitted by the camera. He lived in a quiet neighbourhood, and burglaries were rare.
But now—he’d spend his evenings watching them.
Watching his sweet little housemaid work.
—
You took care of the windows first. They weren’t filthy, but they had definitely seen better days.
He’d stocked up on the cleaning stuff too—the amount of different utensils and chemicals could probably get you through the next year, if not longer.
You were pretty certain König lived alone and only very recently moved in. The dishes were still originally packed except for one, fridge empty save for some beer, and the trash bin was stuffed full with takeout containers.
Single too, as it seemed.
Perfect.
Over the next visits, you gradually gave the house a fresh look. You had—or at least you thought you had—located all of his security cameras. Kitchen, staircase, front door, hell, even in his bedroom.
Your skirts steadily grew shorter over the weeks, and “accidents” where you’d drop a sponge or another item right in front of the camera became more frequent—having to bend over to pick it up.
These were the scenes König would rewatch a hundred times.
Lying in his bed, the hard mattress underneath him only worsening the ache in his muscles he’d accumulated after three consecutive days of harsh combat training.
Though excruciating, even worse was the ache in his cock each time his eyes roamed over your figure.
For now, you were mere pixels on his laptop screen. But it wouldn’t be long until he headed back home.
Until then, his hand would do the job just fine—tightly fisting his thick girth, pumping slowly and rhythmically as his favourite scene played on repeat right in front of him.
The recording in which your short pink skirt barely covered anything as you bent over to pick up the sponge you had dropped. Slipping so far up in the process, not only did you expose half of your round ass, no—he even got a good glimpse of your burgundy lace underwear sticking to your pussy.
It was almost embarrassing—no pathetic even—how fast his reddened tip was leaking precum, how quickly and hard he came from just watching his little housemaid bend over in front of the cameras.
By the third time it happened, he knew it was no accident.
You were doing it on purpose—putting on a show for him.
God, that angelic face of yours had betrayed him.
—
And you were no different. Hand slipped underneath the waistband of your panties, rubbing quick circles on your clit at the memory of your handsome employer.
The way his voice dropped just a little when he spoke directly to you, the spark behind his blue eyes lighting up like an inextinguishable flame as he took you in.
However, what drew you in most—the sheer size of him.
Not only was he tall—taller than any other man you’d met until now—no, he was also big. Wide and muscular shoulders, thighs double the size of your own. Thick veins adorning his hands all the way to his prominent biceps—and you were sure he could lift you with terrifying ease.
Or trap you beneath him as he pounded your pussy raw.
You knew he had to be huge. Veins popping beneath the thin layer of skin, stretching all the way from the base to his swollen tip—drooling a bead of precum.
The mere thought of it sent you tumbling over the edge, your cunt clenching around nothing as your slick soaked your panties.
The third pair of the day.
—
After the second month, there was not a lot to do. Not for ten hours a week, that was.
Mostly, you spent your time dusting off. Cleaning outside—his garden. Anything you could find, you took care of.
Summer was in its full glory at this time of the year, the heat making it hard to work productively. And to be fair—the garden was almost done. Next time, you’d take your beach towel and bikini with you, sunbathing for a little while.
It’s not like he was going to see it anyway.
And that’s exactly what you did.
You laid out your towel on the freshly mown grass, letting your skirt slip down your legs, crop top quickly shoved into your bag.
A quick Instagram story later, and you could finally feel the sun’s warmth spread throughout your body. No classes, just a very lenient—and hot—employer, and a huge paycheck.
Life couldn’t be better.
—
“Life couldn’t be better,” König mumbled to himself on another lonely Wednesday evening after finding your public Instagram profile.
He’d already switched to his fake profile, immediately clicking on the story you’d uploaded within the last 24 hours.
His breath caught in his throat.
Verdammt.
That sweet smile of yours, face glowing in the sun light—your eyes shining in the most beautiful color.
His gaze dropped to your cleavage—all exposed, your tight bikini perfectly cupping your tits, leaving little to his imagination.
He was so hard, it fucking ached.
But then, König spotted something quite familiar—eyes narrowing as he zoomed in on the background.
His apple tree. In his garden.
Miss Housemaid was taking a paid day off, it seemed like.
Well, he did get something out of it, though.
Getting to watch you undress, lying half naked in his garden through the camera monitoring the area.
The one you must have missed.
A whole hour of footage.
Yeah, it wouldn’t get much better than that.
—
But still, König wouldn’t let you off that easily—he had the perfect task prepared for you. A punishment for not asking him beforehand. A punishment you didn’t even know was a punishment.
He would make you scrub the entire kitchen floor.
On your hands and knees.
Watching you.
He’d already typed in your number on his phone as he freed his cock, wrapping a strong hand around the thick base of it, lazily stroking himself as he waited for you to pick up.
Waiting for your sweet little voice that made his cock twitch and drool with need.
“Hello?” you answered the call with a careful greeting, mind running through a thousand possibilities on why he might be calling.
Was he coming earlier?
Did he see you in the garden?
If he did, you were done for.
“Sorry to disturb you. Do you have time to talk?” His slightly distorted voice rang from your speakers, and you felt your heart drop.
“Y-yeah, what is it?”
So nervous. So adorable.
König gripped his cock tighter at your intimidated voice on the other line.
“—so I would ask you to scrub the kitchen floor over the next two weeks—before I come back.”
You sighed in relief as the call ended. He didn’t see you in the garden.
He’d explained that family members would visit after his return, and he needed the floor to be extra clean.
You didn’t believe him—not entirely. Who actually paid attention to the floor anyway? And even if—it wasn’t dirty in any way.
However, it was the only thing he specifically asked of you these entire three months—so you would do it.
And your mind already skimmed over all possible skirts for such a task.
Short, preferably.
—
When you turned the key in the lock, entering his house, your eyes instantly scanned the marble tiles. Spotless.
The hallway—spotless.
Kitchen—well, not spotless per se, but not dirty enough that it required scrubbing.
Still, you got on your knees, arching your back as you started polishing the floor.
Metre for metre you worked yourself forward, wriggling your hips each time you moved—and the camera continued blinking red.
Recording.
At the same time, König sat in front of his laptop. Head thrown back in pure bliss, emptying himself for the third time in his pocket pussy—praying that soon it would be yours instead.
The following days passed faster than you could blink. You finished up your job in time, satisfied with your work—and just as you gave his beloved kitchen counter a last cleaning, the front door opened with a loud creak.
He was home.
Heavy footsteps approached from the hallway, his military boots already making a mess on the freshly cleaned floor. Your eyes locked as he entered the kitchen and slowly made his way towards you.
You didn’t dare move—too caught up in the moment to even greet him.
König hadn’t expected you to be here when he came home. However, it was definitely a pleasant surprise.
Especially—his gaze dropped—when you were barely wearing anything, even less so appropriate clothes for your duties in his home.
You swallowed when you saw the mess he’d made on the floor. All that work for nothing. “The floor— I just cleaned it last week—”
He scoffed, taking a step closer as you looked back up at him—all doe-eyed, and suddenly not very confident in your actions.
Blood rushed to your cheeks, averting your gaze at the realisation he surely must have seen the recordings. What were you thinking?
Before your mind could wander further, his hand cupped your face, tilting your head upwards.
“Do you really think I ever cared about that damn floor?”
You carefully shook your head.
“You are right, I didn’t. Just the same as you didn’t bother wearing appropriate clothes,” he said, lips curling into a knowing smirk. “You knew what you were doing to me, don’t you, Liebling?”
“I didn’t— didn’t mean to—“ you stammered, though cut off by his lips crashing onto your own. Months of pent-up frustration poured into the kiss, searing hot, and you returned the same energy happily—parting just to catch your breath.
His hands dropped to your hips, spinning you around with ease—the sharp edge of the kitchen counter biting right into your hipbones.
“Komm schon. Bend over, do what you’ve shown me you are best at, Mäuschen.” König encouraged from behind, the bulge in his pants stabbing right into the side of your ass, having a soft whimper slip from your lips.
Yeah, you were definitely right about him being big.
One of his large hands settled between your shoulder blades, firmly pressing you down against the cool marble stone as the other worked to undo his belt, letting the leather drop to the floor. His pants slid down to his ankles, not bothering to even step out of them before he freed his painfully hard cock.
“You want this?” He rasped, pulling you back against him—gasping as you felt him pull your skirt and panties down your thighs, leaving you bare from the waist down. “Tell me how badly you need me.”
“So— so badly, please König— fuck—“ you shrieked as he crouched down, using his thumbs to spread you apart for him—licking a thick, wet stripe along your slit, groaning as he tasted your sweet arousal on his tongue.
“Knew you would taste like heaven. So süß, meine Liebe.” He praised, palm connecting to your ass in a loud SMACK!, before he lined himself up with your entrance.
“Relax, ja?” König said before steadily entering your tight, wet heat. “This might hurt a little.”
And fuck—nothing could have possibly prepared you for that. The stretch was overwhelming at first, a throbbing pain radiating from your core through your entire body. He eased into you, inch by torturous inch, until he gracefully bumped against your cervix.
“König— too much—“ you whimpered, eyes shut tightly as you felt every ridge and vein of him inside of you. But he didn’t let up.
“Shhh. You can take it,” he said through gritted teeth. It took him everything to hold back from pounding you senseless right there and then—having waited far too long for the feeling of your warm cunt wrapped around him.
He let you adjust to him, carefully pulling out and gently pushing back in as he felt you ease up. “Doing so well for me already.”
Soon enough, sweet, gentle pleasure replaced pain, and your hips bucked against his. “Please— I am ready. Please, König.”
You didn’t have to tell him twice.
With one hand tangled in your hair, the other on your hips, pulling you back against him, he thrust into you with newly found vigour.
“You don’t even know how much I needed this, Engel.” he rasped, leaning down until he was level with your head. “How much I craved this sweet little pussy.”
It was a thousand times better than he could have ever wished for. So incredibly wet and warm, welcoming him right in. Better than his hand or any toy could ever be.
He might just have to keep you after this.
Your thoughts, on the other hand, were gradually erased from your mind—the sensation of his cock fucking into you so perfectly, tip nudging right against your sweet spot with every single thrust clouding any sanity you had left.
Both of your highs approached in quick steps, and it didn’t take long until he had you pulsing around his cock, lips parted and eyes rolled to the back of your head as your climax washed over you.
“Going to cum inside, make you nice and full of me, ja?” König grunted, and with a few more harsh thrusts, he spilled himself deep inside you, his warm release painting your walls white—making sure you’d be dripping with him for days.
Love goes through the stomach, or so they say.
The next thing you remember is being picked up by a pair of strong arms, head nestled against his firm chest as he carried you to the couch, gently stroking your hair as he let you rest up, cuddled against him.
And upstairs, in his bedroom—
Ping.
The screen of his laptop lit up with a notification.
New file in your inbox: Recording_100825.
COD masterlist
—
Thanks for reading! Feel free to reblog and leave feedback. <33
I'd have JUMPED HIM, bounced on him even. Maybe offer him a bath, even if for a chance to stroke and pet his fuzzy buzzed head
Look at them puppyish, bloodshot feral eyes.
my friend @little-shit-with-zero-control ,, please never stop reblogging the way you do. im over here giggling and kicking my feet reading through your tags. as im drawing my konig comics im thinking about you 🥀🥀
Okay, finally, I did it! (I'll never colour like this again lol, this took so long)
The idea I had was that König's face reveal probably wouldn't be nice or elegant.... I'm imagining the way Horangi ends up seeing his face is cause the bloke doesn't want to drown himself with a sopping hood
Dad!König who begrudgingly puts on a matching Halloween costume with his chunky baby. he’s only hesitant because he’s sure any pictures you take will get back to his team. grumbles and huffs as you dress him up, he will be stealing candy from the bowl you’re using for the neighborhood kids
kidnapper könig pampers you like some precious princess, he holds you down the basement of his house, delicate wrists and ankles chained down, but he coos at you and arranges a comfortable mattress with cotton sheets and feathery pillows for you to lay on comfortably, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck when you recoil from his touch, the gaze of his baby blues almost too soft for someone who keeps you against your will.
you don't know the meaning behind his behavior, why he feeds you a good looking, warm food, brings you new, only recently bought clothes, let's you wash up in the bathroom outside the basement, in the warm water, with some sweet scented shampoo and shower gel he buyed just for you, not cheap at all, and then some bubbles, masks, conditioners, too much things, so you start to think if they're poisoned or something.
könig get's sulken when you deny his offers, it's not even gifts, he doesn't calls them such, as if he feels obliged to make you as comfortable as possible, despite that you're chained and kidnapped, bringing you clothes to wear, some fancy, nice nightgown for you to sleep in, color dusty pink, adorned with cute, lacy details, as if you're some kind of doll, a princess, his eyes crinkling in childish excitement when you accept to wear it.
you start to find it as some not funny joke, or just falling under all his twisted care, but you look forward to the basement door opening and könig getting down with some endearing, german petname on his lips, calling for you and smiling under his hood when he finds you on your place, at the mattress, curled lazily, not that you can do anything more, as he praises you for staying, before offering to get up in the house with him.
könig allows you not to be in the basement anymore, but to stay at home, sleep on the bed, eat in the kitchen, watch tv, and he still only calls you some cooing, incomprehensible words, brings you various things that can please you, and hugs you when you sleep together at night, as if you are his plush toy, while he buries his face in the crown of your head, snoring.
it's some bad days to him when he gets more rough, irritated by something, fidgeting with his fingers and brushing a calloused palm over his face again and again, and when it's happens, you stay in bed, playing asleep, until he comes to you, wide shoulders hunched, frown framing his bright, almost glassy eyes, and you would offer him comfort after all he did for you, even if he'd want to rut his cock against your warm pussy, whining broken gratitudes.
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