I can't promise quality writings, because I am not even close to considering myself A Writer™, but my CoD brainrot is getting so bad that I need to have an outlet for it. Give it a read if you're interested.
p.s. I barely know how Tumblr works, so bare with me.
Also, I want to make sure I say it out loud, but since I don't want to have to censor myself and allow myself full creative freedom, do NOT interact if you're a minor.
König:
Just a Dream (König has a nightmare)
The Concert Savior (König helps reader stop unwanted attention)
Falling ill (König gets sick after a mission)
Sick for weeks (BF König visits sick reader)
Sway (Husband König helps you destress)
Hundert Hertzen (König needs comforting)
Call Sign König (The story behind König's call sign)
König AU:
Together as One 🌶️ (Reader gets permeated by symbiote König)
Ghost:
Meeting Simon 1: Pictures (Your friend sets you up with Simon)
Okay, so, I'm not guaranteeing a steady release of chapters. This story is very, very rough. So basically, y'all are getting the Beta version on tumblr, and then I'm going to polish it up for Ao3. However, I want to test this out and see how everyone likes it so far, or has any suggestions on how to make it better!
So, for preface, this is a steampunk fantasy set in an alternate version of Europe (particularly England) in the 1890s. Lots of fun with magic, machines and giants, fairies and changelings. I hope you all enjoy this little brainworm I've been cooking up!
Art from This Post
Warnings: Kidnapping
Wordcount: 3.7k
Story below the cut
Chapter One: Buster's Big Opening
The circus had rolled into the village the night before. The entire town had been abuzz since the first rumours had passed through the papers and the whispers under the lamps in the English countryside fogs. Then the posters began to show up. First on telephone poles, and then on storefront windows, and then on the front page of the newspapers too. Each one was printed in black and white, but someone had painstakingly gone in and painted in the red flag at the top of the tent with a quick flick of their wrist. The paper seemed too old to be new, which only added to the rumours.
Then there came the harkers.
Little boys dressed as though they were in photographs came in, the only sign of life being the flush to their skin and a red bowtie around their neck. These boys yelled and called to anyone with ears about the extraordinary acts of the circus. They spoke of mechanical animals glinting like stars and women who could twist themselves into the pretzels they made fresh each night. These little boys were stars among the village. Men took to wearing red ties, and women red scarves or ribbons around their hats. Some of the village urchins took to copying their look and acting like them, swanning around town with red handkerchiefs hastily tied around their necks as though they too could manage to capture some of that raw star power.
You only learned of the circus when you went into the village to collect some goods for the farm. It had taken two buses and a tram, and while you waited for the bus home you spotted a flyer. Normally, you would’ve ignored it. It was just a simple little flyer. And yet, something about it called to you. It felt only right to take it off the board and fold it once, twice, then tucked it into the fold of your jacket.
It wasn't common for big shows to make a stop in your sleepy village. It was so small that it barely registered as a printing smudge on travel maps given out in London down south. It was such a simple and quiet village that you could sleep a week away and wake up thinking only a few hours had passed. It was plain, simple, but perfectly befitting of a few farming families and a humble clergyman to guide them on their ramshackle path to Heaven. You didn't think many of them would make it. Most of them were too stubborn to admit so much as a stain on the front of their shirt. Humility wasn't the bread and butter of the working man. With hard work came pride, and with it high heads and higher expectations. Such was the way of village life.
With a population so small but starkly traditional, it was any wonder that so much as a busker passed through town. And yet, to the amazement of you and many others, the circus had arrived.
When you made your way back home, your grandfather called you to the living room.
“You’ve got something for me, haven’t you?” he asked.
You took the flyer out of your purse and handed it to him.
He looked it over with a speculative eye and a more curious hum. You watched him run his fingers over the little red flag. He curled his fingers back into a tight fist. His lips pulled back and he stroked at his white beard as he leaned back in his rocking chair. He took a puff off his pipe and fixed you with a steady glare.
“I was a manager in a circus once, you know?” he asked you.
You rolled your eyes with a derisive laugh, “I know. You tell me at least once a day. Something about magic being more than just scholarly malarkey, right?”
Your grandfather huffed and puffed his pipe before he said, “Quite the mouth on you.”
“And where do I get it from?” you gave him a cheery smile.
“You'd better not be saying I'm to blame!” your grandpa coughed before he said, “I made a deal to my old ringmaster a long time ago. I can't… I can't say what it is,” he shook his head and sighed, “but if old Zero's right, there's not much I can do.”
“Zero?”
“Old friend from way back when,” your grandpa waved you off flippantly, “but look. You must understand that I do not say this lightly,” he gave you a stern look, “you’re not to go.”
You expected as such.
“You’re going to go anyway, aren’t you?”
You gave him a half smile and nodded.
Your grandfather rolled his eyes and took another draw of tobacco. He let it out in a long stream as he turned to look out the window at the rolling hills of sheep.
“If you go,” he said, “then can you bring something back for me?”
You smirked and leaned on the doorframe, “What are you looking for?”
“The reddest candy apple you can get me,” your granda grinned.
“You’ll be able to eat it with those teeth?” you teased.
Your grandfather sulked, “You’re no fun, are you?”
You sighed and shook your head, “I’ll get you an apple, old man. You won’t go telling any of the others where I went, will you?”
“Not if you go tonight,” your grandpa said as he cleaned his glasses, “I’m under oath, you see.”
You thanked him and left upstairs to your room, where you sat down with a book and read until the first bruise of twilight stained the sky.
You looked out over the fields. It was later than you expected, but early enough to still see where you went if you took your bike down the road.
You left without dinner. You put a clean shawl over your shoulders and left without a sound. You figured that your mother heard but didn’t have the energy to chase after you after a long day in the fields. You took your bicycle from the back of the house and set off into the weeping dusk.
You peddled along the road, your scarf keeping the bite of autumn from your neck but leaving your face bare for a nipping at your nose and cheeks. The crisp winds smelled of the decay of plant matter and the promise of colder nights to come. As you drew closer, the thick, sticky scent of toffee and beckoned you forth. Then, closer still, the smell of hot butter and chocolate. The cold of the dusk released you from its clutches, almost forgotten as you pulled up to the front of the circus.
From outside, you could see the achromatic tents dotting the landscape. A whirling set of red lights came from the right as a machine twisted and twirled, the passengers with their arms stretched above their heads up above in joyous delight. It struck you that from outside, the circus was entirely silent. Not a whimper, not a hiss, nothing came from the circus. Only the whispers of night surrounded you.
You looked at the toll booth then patted your pockets, only to realise that you’d left your purse at home. You were without so much as a penny to your name as you stood at the front. With a frown, you took up your bike and determined to find another way into the fair grounds.
It took you the better part of half an hour, but you managed to find a spot behind a tent and discarded your bike before slipping through the flaps of a quiet tent.
To your delight, the tent seemed entirely empty, more a placeholder than an attraction. From there, ducking out into the fairgrounds was easy enough.
When you stepped in the fair, you heard a soft hiss and a pop in your ear before a slow din rumbling from the edges of your senses. You looked around and the sounds grew in volume as your eyes widened at the sights before you. Lights became brighter, sounds became real; the circus came to life before your very eyes. You looked around in wonder at the magical world you'd stepped into.
Slipping into the crowds was as natural and easy as breathing. In one moment you were an observer, in the next an active participant in the joyous fair. Black and white tents stood between similar stalls that framed the aisles that had been strategically wound through tight spaces. As you walked, there were stalls filled with black and white bears hung up above a ring toss. Beside it, a man with a mask over his lower features moved cups on a black table impossibly fast. His limbs were a blur and just watching him made you feel dizzy.
You walked onwards.
You felt a thrill at your successful assimilation into the average circus goer. Without a ticket, it provided a new sense of excitement to the experience. You looked into the eyes of a woman standing by a game of darts and she locked eyes with you. You felt a chill as she stared you down, then relief as she tore her eyes away to smile at a group of young children begging for a turn.
You figured that you’d come the next day to pay your ticket. It was the right thing to do. But tonight, you could live dangerously, and you could sneak into the circus like a brave little mouse.
It wasn't long before you found a burly man setting out bright red candy apples out along the edge of his stall. He smiled as he handed a young couple a giant mound of candy floss, lit up beneath the strange white glow of the hanging bulbs. It was while he had his back turned that you swiped two of the tastiest looking apples you saw before ducking back into the crowds. You'd pay later, right? That's what you told yourself. Whether that was true or not was yet to be seen.
The big top called to you with promises of mystique. There was something about the silver and white stripes that stood out from the more blocky black and white of the rest of the circus that drew your eyes to it. Above it, a bright crimson red flag flapped in an unfelt wind. A smell of smoke and diesal burning from the heart of the tent brought you closer and closer, until you were finding yourself slipping inside and taking a seat on the stands.
The show had started long ago by the time you made your way inside. You sat beside a large man and his larger wife, their popcorn forgotten on their laps and their jaws gaping as they stared down at the sight below. You realised their expressions mirrored nearly each and every audience member before you turned to see what they were all looking at.
In the center of the stage, a woman in a diamond studded grey dress hovered at least thirty feet above the ground, suspended only by long draping red ribbons. She turned slowly, her slender arms stretching above her head and her fingers splaying wide before they pinched at a ribbon above. Without a word, she slipped out of her silk cocoon and dropped. There was a collective gasp, only held back when the woman effortlessly wound one foot in a ribbon, leaving her face only inches above the dirt.
A lone violinist swayed with the sweet song he played. You could see the conversation between them, lovers torn apart but left to yearn for the other. His song was low, slow, languid in how it hung in the air as the woman hung in the ribbons. With a trill, she rolled back up into the safety of the ribbons and continued her performance.
Only when the woman’s pointed feet touched the ground did the crowd finally clap and cheer for her performance. As though she only just noticed the crowd, she flushed and took the violinists hand before raising it high above both their heads.
They left for the next act, one equally beautiful and stunning accompanied by someone playing a lilting waltz on a calliope organ. But where there was grace and elegance with the ribbons artist, this man was captivating in his strength, dexterity and ease with each knife he threw. You watched as he hit a dartboard thrown up into the air, then another knife into the handle of the first, and a third landed in the second. Effortless expressions of skill from the man behind a black and silver demon mask that only covered up to his nose.
The next act was silly and fun, a pair of clowns joking and playing games as a mechanical bull chased them round and round the ring with big puffs of steam and brazen bellows.
You laughed, you cried, you did everything in between as the circus brought out act after act, each one just as incredible as the last. Not a hair out of place, not a singular note misplayed. It was pure perfection captured under hot stage lights. You clapped joyously as the last act left the stage, only for a man to waltz in with a black cane and a long top hat. He looked up to the crowd with a twinkle in his blue eyes. His mutton chops framed his dazzling smile and he called to the crowd to give one last hurrah for the performers.
You cheered, but the moment you stood you felt the man’s eyes snap to you. His smile still fixed in place, you felt a pure malice radiate from his being as he looked at you.
You slipped out of the tent quickly after that.
Stepping out into the crowds, you cooled your hyperventilating by losing yourself in the crowd once more. You let them draw you in circles around the big top, but each time you felt yourself draw too close, you swore you could feel the man’s eyes on you once more. You could feel his malice, his pure hatred for you. This hatred was personal, and it spoke one truth to you: you did not belong in this circus.
So you stayed away while you could. However, without any coin to pay for games or snacks, you soon found yourself growing more and more alienated from the joy around you.
You stumbled upon a man standing in a crowd. His black mask covered his whole face, save for the bright blue eyes that flickered dangerously around the crowd. He took a small dagger and held it up to the crowd. They booed and he shook his head, also disappointed. He took up a small sword, and the crowd booed again. The man picked up a long sword, and the crowd enthusiastically cheered.
You watched in awe as the man’s mask split at the mouth, and he tilted his head all the way back. He slowly raised the sword up high into the air, then slowly fed it down his throat.
Children turned into their mother’s dresses and their mothers pressed their hands to their face. A group of young men crowed as the swordsman slowly pulled the blade down, down, down until logistically, the blade should have passed right through him. And yet, he pulled it out and then stuck it in the ground beside him, the pummel level with the top of his head.
You left him as he waved the crowd away. You felt his eyes on you as you slipped into the crowd once more.
The next act was that of a dark skinned man standing in front of a set of anvils. He pulled the black straps of his working overalls and called up two men from the crowd to try lifting each anvil, but despite their huffing and puffing, the damn things wouldn’t budge. You watched in awe as the man lifted two, one in each hand, and then threw one into the air, followed by the second and the third as the man juggled the anvils as though they were not but hacky sacks in his hands. The sheer show of strength was impossible to you, and yet the man stood, the metal brace on his torso and legs flexing with each time he took an anvil into his hands.
You turned as he added another and slipped away.
You passed by a petting zoo of silver animals. Somehow, you felt as though the animals could actually breathe and have a heartbeat, and you scurried away as a leopard turned to watch you with a hungry look in its eyes.
You were shoved further and further away from the circus until you found yourself at the very outskirts, just by the tent you had snuck in from. To your amazement, there was a big black tent with a white sign promising strange oddities from across the lands.
You looked over your shoulder before you ducked inside.
The first room held two children connected by their skulls, and the second a man covered from head to toe in hair. By the third room, you realised that the people were either wax or saddened actors who's pain radiated through their acts. They were fakes. You disappointedly walked through each room after that. It seemed strange. The rest of the circus was full of wild wonders and delights, but all you saw here were impressive feats of art and engineering, but nothing that would shock you to your core.
You came across two tent flaps. One claimed to be the exits, while the other claimed to house the most fearsome creature to walk the lands. Something cruel, wicked and violent by nature. The thought was laughable. There were no giants in the cloudlands. They never came up, lest they wreck havoc on the land. Destructive, greedy and proud creatures, there was no chance that a giant truly laid beyond that door.
You rolled your eyes, but wanting to give it a shot, you stepped through the door promising to bring you to the beast named ‘König’.
You sucked in a breath as you looked at the man across from you.
Lit by flickering Edison bulbs, there sat a humongous creature behind iron bars. You stumbled into the room, amazed as you looked up at the man.
He was an incredible creature. His muscles were strapped across his frame as though they were sculpted by an artist. His hairy arms flexed and tensed as he felt you scrutinize his every move, and to your curiosity, it seemed that he shrank under your stare. His lower half was fitted into a poorly fitted pair of pants, but his face was covered in a dark shroud with twin red tear streaks coming from the eyes that saw you.
This was no savage beast, but something else.
There was a startling… Humanity to him. There was an intelligence there that shouldn’t have existed. It felt that, for just a moment, there was no animal in this cage. Only a broken man.
You slowly sat down on the stool across from him.
“Hello?” you tried carefully.
The man’s sloped brows furrowed behind his black hood. Strangely, the red tear tracks painted on it almost seemed to be real.
“Can you understand me?” you tried again.
The creature huffed, “Yes.”
Your eyes widened as you soaked in the meaning of the interaction.
“Are you going to hurt me, or will you stare?”
His voice was higher than you expected, but with an accent that sounded distinctly undercloudian. Almost as though he were raised among humans.
The giant snorted again, “You will stare.”
You felt yourself snap to attention.
“I’m not staring,” you said.
The giant gave you a glare.
You swallowed, “Okay, well, maybe a bit. But it’s just…”
“You’ve never seen one of my kind before?” the giant filled in for you.
You nodded sheepishly.
“Well,” he raised up his arms like an albatross spreading its wings before the sun, “now you have.”
You fiddled your thumbs in your lap meekly. Somehow, this giant had you completely cowed. You almost felt humiliated by his cutting observations.
“I didn’t expect you to talk,” you admitted.
The giant shrugged, “I’m not supposed to.”
“You’re not?” you asked, “then why did you speak to me?”
The giant laughed, a hearty sound from deep in his chest.
“Because, little girl,” he sneered, “you’re not meant to be here.”
You felt the air leave your lungs.
“Anyone working here could see it from a mile away,” the giant continued, “you snuck in. Like a little mouse, hm?”
You squirmed on your seat, suddenly feeling how uncomfortable the wooden stool was.
“Huh. I expected you to talk. Funny how that works,” the giant leaned his chin on his fist.
Your face flushed, “I was going to pay for my ticket tomorrow…”
“You were?” the giant raised a dark brow.
“I was!” you pouted, “I don’t need sass from you! I don’t even know your name!”
The giant tilted his head as though you were stupid, “Did you not read the sign, little mouse?”
You thought for a moment, “The… The sign?”
The giant held up his hands, “First she doesn’t speak, then she doesn’t read,” he sighed, “dumb little mouse.”
“I’m not dumb!” you shot back.
“You’re dumb enough,” the giant said.
“Dumb enough for what?” you sneered, “dumb enough to talk to a giant?”
The giant shook his head.
“No,” he drawled, “you’re not dumb for trying to talk to me. You’re dumb to walk into a trap though.”
Your eyes widened.
You realised you weren’t the only two people in the room.
Slowly, ever so slowly, you turned around to see a tall man holding a pipe. His brown eyes narrowed at you behind his skull mask.
You turned back to the giant in the cage helplessly, but he provided nothing to help you. Instead, he tucked a knee to his broad chest and lay his head on his knee, amused by the entire event.
“By the way,” he told you, “my name is König.”With that, the lights went out.
Ghost never does anything he doesn't want to do, everyone knows this.
No amount of prodding or bribery can make ghost do something he deems uncomfortable and annoying. He is absolutely impervious to peer pressure. Stomps his foot and digs his heels in like a stubborn mule.
Which is why everyone is shocked when you catch ghost after a meeting and ask "hey, si. You still down for concert i was telling you about?"
Ghost, without missing a beat, nods and grunts "yep."
Soap and gaz stare in shock, because everyone knows ghost hates concerts. Loud places with security that try to stop him from bringing in weapons. Cramped spaces full of strangers.
For a moment, people think concert is a euphemism of some sort, but then you beam like the sun at ghost and say "yes! You're gonna love it, si!"
Your hands grasp his biceps as you speak, enthusiastic and overjoyed.
The soft, gentle look ghost gives you when you turn your face away is enough to tell everyone what's going on. Ghost may hate everything to do with concerts, but if it's you asking, he'll smile and go.
Something, something— he’s wearing your underwear while jerking off.
It’s not like he meant to put them on.
It was after a shower and he tried to get rid of the boner he had. Arm resting against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, fisting his hand like it was his last day on each. grinding into his calloused hand he grumbled a, “fuck, right- right there! uugh- baby please,” hand moving fast up and down his length.
But nothing came out, not even dry cumming like he’d done inside you three days ago :(.
God, he missed you tight cunt so bad, couldnt stop thinking about it after he got out the shower.
Was like the holy grail when he hung the towel up on the rack, naked as the day he was born, and your pair of lilac lace panties were sat on the dresser. The ones he pried off you and had to replace because he ripped his other favorite pair that you wore. Unused. Practically begging for him to use so he can get off. His ass cheeks were getting cold and only way he could think of cumming on them was to get in them.
And technically he was right, his pre cum smeared against the thin fabric right where your glorious pussy would be, and then he pulled his girthy cock out. Throbbing, vieny and eager to be inside of you, in any shape or form. The way you pin his hands to the side and hollow your mouth out, head booping up and down and slobbering all over him, or the way your warm pussy would take him all in, tighten around him when he hits yout magic spot— “Mama, fuck- you feel so gooood.” He keens, slut, grip around his member getting faster, bucking against the bed as he imagines you, persperant making the underwear tighter, squeezing his glutes tighter.
“Baby,” you practically purr and his breath hitches, running his thumb over his sensitive and wet cockhead. The feeling makes his back arch, face smooshed into the pillows as he rolls his hand up and down sloppily.
“Babe, where are you?”
Oh, he’s hearing voices, your sweet, sweet voice in his ears. He groans, both hands wrapped around his cock now, the filthy shlick, shlick, shlick noise coming as he fucks his soaked hand. He hiccuped, letting out a throating moan, “Shit, love- anngh- darling-“ it’s so harsh when his orgasm hits him, cum flying onto his chest and down his thighs, soaking the fabric with his milky white and thick cum.
“Baby?” You opened the door to your bedroom, astonished by the sight taking place on your bed. He’s too fucked out, hand already squeezing and twisting around his length again, panties on him slightly ripped, he whines, whimpers-
a/n: Just could not stop thinking about König and Choso doing this. And then you pinch his pierced nipples or something while fvcking him, idk america.
currently thinking warm cuddly könig thoughts 🙂↕️🙏 bc it's cold and snowy and miserable as hell here 😭😭😭
tucking my toes under his thighs bc they're cold, using him as a heated weighted blanket, drinking hot cocoa....ough
I feel you😩💔it got so cold all of a sudden😔it was casually cold before but then it dropped down to, like, -20°F with wind chills
Husband!König who runs excessively warm. when you come home cold in the face and sniffling, eyes squinty and hands freezing, he sucks in a breath before you cling to him. he’ll always return your hugs and kisses, but he still grumbles and squirms when you shove your icy hands up his shirt, “Ach— Hör auf damit, meine Liebe.”. his heart does melt when you whine and moan about how it’s miserable outside, shoulders sloping when your bleary eyes blink at him. it’s only right that he settles you in bed, thoroughly tucking you in before he’s off to grab you a snack and drink. his lips quirk up when you call out briefly for him to hurry up. König takes his sweet time making you a warm drink, slowly preparing your favorite treats. it makes him chuckle quietly when you text him ‘so cold… this is the end…’ ‘if only my husband were here…’ ‘with food.’ ‘and maybe a tissue’
Husband!König who puts on your favorite series when he returns, jolting slightly when your feet settle against his thighs. “A warning would be nice, Schatzi.”, his voice lightly scolding as he tucks you into his side, making no move to shift your feet off of him. “Better now? I told you to wear layers this morning. Hast du mir zugehört? Nein.”, he muses, smiling when you huff, “Don’t pout, I’m just teasing you.”. in all honesty, a selfish part of him enjoys when you come home as cold as an icicle. you always want him close, tugging him here and there to warm yourself up. it thrills him when you press your cold nose to his neck, cuddling up against him to soak in his warmth. he might fuss over you for not wearing a jacket or forgoing gloves, and he’ll definitely mumble complaints when you come home shivering, but it’s all for show. deep down, when the weather has you waddling over to him with a trembling little grin, König will always want you to cling to him. even if your freezing hands unexpectedly make him yelp when you grab at him
Ghost doesn't like to touch people, everyone knows that. So why the hell is he touching you so often?
A hand cupped around your bicep in crowded halls, dragging you to the side when boisterous recruits pass through. Or on the small of your back in the tiny recroom kitchenette, as if steadying you against some unseen force.
You try not to acknowledge it. Privately, you kind of enjoy the touch and fear it will stop if you point it out.
But...the question still nags. Why? Why does his hand brush over your knee in the briefing room when he refuses to even wear short sleeves in fear someone will touch his bare skin?
You won't ask ghost, so you turn to the next best source.
"He's got a crush on you, dumbass." Kyle states, voice flat. He doesn't even look at you when he says it, instead placing a card down that makes soap swear.
"...what?" That can't be. You think back to all the interactions you've had with ghost, and none of them really stand out as flirty "no. No way. You misunderstood me, garrick, it's not like a flirty touch, it's–"
"Casual?" Soap cuts off, drawing a card from the deck "like holding your shoulder or back when you walk together?"
"Uhm. Yes." You nod, brows furrowed. Sure, it's a bit familiar, but nothing more than what two friends would do. "Yeah, and sometimes hold my knee when we sit together. I think it's a comfort–"
"Ooh, knee holding? He wants to fuck you real bad, huh?" Kyle snorts, placing down another card and completely ignoring your indignant gasp. Finally, he actually turns to you with the fakest sympathetic look you've ever seen.
"Think of it like this." He offers "ghost isn't touchy with anyone. So doesn't it make sense for it to be a big deal when he does touch someone? Like, I don't know, a crush?"
"Uh–" you open your mouth to retort, but actually...kyles logic makes sense. The idea makes all those feelings you've been ignoring about ghost resurface. "I...I need to go. Bye."
"Use a rubber!" Gaz yells as you speed you. You still manage to flip him off.
HI. I love your art!! Quick question: how do you think Konig would react to meeting someone taller than him?
Hi!! I don’t think he’d care much - even if he met someone taller, they’d probably only be a few cm taller at most… so hardly a noticeable difference. I don’t think he’d even notice
Genuinely I think horangi would make a bigger deal of it 🫡
There are few things that can tear ghost away from you when he's finally got you in bed, and price is not one of them.
You're splayed out beneath him, head thrown back while ghost thrusts into you. Forearms braced on either side of you. He fucks you like an animal, movements instinctual and unwavering "fuck– you feel so fuckin' good, dove–"
A sharp ring cuts him off, The single-tone chime of his flip-phone. Ghost pauses, groans like he's physically pained and thunks his head into your shoulder. Still, he reaches for the phone and only glances at you once before answering.
"Cap? I thought you were with kyle?" Ghost asks roughly. He's still bowed over you, cockhead nudging at that delicious spot inside you with each subtle of his hips.
You clench instinctively, and ghost looks down at you again. Eyes crinkling in delight, he makes a show of deliberately setting the phone to speaker before leaning back over you.
You try to mouth 'simon don't you fucking dare' but it gets lost when he languidly rolls back into you. prices voice hardly registers as words in your mind.
"Yes, sir. I'll check tomorrow." Ghost replies to something you can't be bothered to hear when he pulls nearly all the way out before thrusting back in. Slow, deep, intoxicating. Pleasure burns in you, and you go to clamp a hand over your mouth but ghost grips it with his other hand.
Without any barrier, your breathy moan slips out into the open space, and not a moment later price goes silent.
"...I could write you up for featernization, ghost."
"You wouldn't– mmh– dare, sir." Ghost shoots back, not bothering to hide his activities now. He thrusts into you brutally, harsher just to make sure the mic can pick up the wet smack of skin.
"Bloody hell," price sounds tired, and simply sighs "get it done by tomorrow....and at least wear a condom."
The line clicks off, and ghost starts to laugh. You smack him in the shoulder, mortified. "Simon! You ass!"
"Oh, don't act like you don't like it, love." Ghost points out, pressing a palm to your lower abdomen to hold you in place, thrusting to hit all your sweet spots.
The affect is instant, and in an embarrassingly short time you're muscles are tensing up and you're moaning ghosts name over an orgasm. He follows suit, warmth spilling into you.
He wonders if he should do this more often, considering how he's never heard you moan like that before.
now this is funny as hell but imagine reader being in a relationship with simon but (for the sake of this) simon is a lil bitch and sometimes doesn’t help you with stuff, so you’re at a store, and you’re trying to grab something from the top shelf and simon is just standing behind you with a bored look
in comes könig, who actually helps you grab the object you need, and when you turn around to thank him (thinking it’s simon maybe?) you’re startled to see this fucking humongous wall in front of you, wide eyes and lips parted in awe as you take him in
“you’re really pretty, are you single?” his lips pull into a soft smile, leaning closer to you, his beautiful azure and green eyes staring into your soul as you open and close your mouth like a fish
“back off, mate” your boyfriend, simon, finally decides to enter the conversation by shoving you behind him, crossing his arms and staring at the other man
könig stands up to his full height, making even simon look small, and lifts his hands in a surrendering gesture, “sorry, and you are?”
“their fucking boyfriend, so move it”
könig looks him up and down with a lifted eyebrow, tilting his head to the side to look at you and take in the embarrassment you clearly feel at the way he’s acting
“so why weren’t you helping them?” he points to the high shelf, tone slightly accusing, as he looks down at the british man
“none of your business, mate, get away” simon moves closer to the man with a threatening stance, eyes cold as he glares at him
“i’m just saying, if you’re the boyfriend, you should help like a boyfriend” könig shrugs his shoulders, stepping around simon to get to you, phone in hand and reaching you, “may i have your number, schnitte?”
your cheeks heat up under the stare from both your boyfriend and this man, but he’s been so nice that you decide you finally want to take control, and give him your number
you’re going to break up with simon and finally find someone who treats you with kindness and respect
It was a joke, his head was in your lap when you stopped caressing his forehead and gasped with mock suprise. Fingers trying to pick at the silver amongst his dirty golden hair.
“Simon,” you purred, leaning forward to take a look, as if there weren't several silver glistening strands amongst “Oh, there's a grey hair, wow.”
He looked up with twinkling light eyes, smiling, “Is there?”
“Yep, you're an old man now.” you grinned.
Simon reached up and traced at the expanse of your jaw very tenderly, matching your wide grin with his quiet chuckle.
He, who never thought he would grow old, who never thought he would survive seventeen or twenty seven, was now deeply happily at thirty seven, all thanks to you.
Summary: König finally shares the story behind his call sign. (±1500 words)
CW: Embarrassment
Author's note: I love chatting and daydreaming with my wonderfully creative König-loving friends, because it helps ideas come to life! In this case, a funny one! ;)
Story under the cut
It was one of those days, the sky was gray, a soft drizzle came down, and the wind blew through the wet leaves; a day perfect for indoor activities! And, as König found out, that was exactly what you had planned. As he came home from errands he found you sitting on the floor, a cardboard box next to you and photographs all around. What a treat this was for König to come home to, especially after having come home to a cold and empty apartment for over a decade. You had come into his life a bit over a year ago and you had started living together only recently, making his place infinitely less depressing, welcoming even.
He put down his bags, took off his coat and came over to you. "What are you up to, Süße?" "Oh, I'm just looking at my box of pictures. Look, this one's from when I graduated!" König smiled. He loved seeing your past. It was almost as if he got be part of those memories a little bit just by looking at the pictures and hearing the stories. "And this one," you continued excitedly, holding up the picture to him. "This one is from when I was hanging with my friends at the cafe where we met. We didn't know each other yet, but coincidentally you're in the background of the picture!" König carefully took the picture from you and studied it carefully. It was a picture of you with 3 of your friends, and there in the background, standing in the line to order something, he saw a familiar shoulder and a bit of hair. There he was, so close to you, but without realizing. "When was this?" he asked. "Hmmm..." You squinted and pressed your lips a bit, thinking hard. "I think about 2 months before we met?" "Hah, that IS a coincidence," König replied with surprise.
As you looked more through pictures, König carefully moved some of them, so there was a spot for him to sit on the floor too. His eye fell on some pictures in the box, pictures of the two of you together. He grabbed them and looked through. There was a picture of the two of you at the beach, a selfie you took in a museum with König in the background looking at a statue and looking oddly small next to it, a group picture with your friends and you around König who looked visibly awkward with so many girls around him... They were such precious memories.
Then he got to a blurry selfie of the two of you: a picture you took the first time you met, because you had insisted making one "to remember the good vibes". It was in that same café as that photo from earlier, although you could barely see anything of the environment. "Look," he said, holding out the glossy picture to you. "From when we met." You eagerly leaned over to look at the picture. König couldn't help but smile. Your enthusiasm was infectious, and the way your hair slid from your shoulder and bared your neck a little made you the most beautiful being on the planet. "We sat in that café for so long," you giggled, thinking back on that day, "remember they had to kick us out at the end of the day?" "Oh yeah, they weren't happy with us," König grinned.
"So..." You started with a cheeky twinkle in your eyes. "Remember how we only introduced ourselves after over half an hour of talking?" "Mhmm...?" "And remember how I asked you whether König was your last name, and you said it wasn't?" König already felt where this was going and groaned. "Yes..?" "And remember what you promised back then?" The deepest sigh left König's body. Back then he had explained it was his "nickname among colleagues" and everyone called him that, but he had refused to explain why. Having assumed you were just another girl he was going to talk to only once, maybe twice, he had playfully promised to tell you when you would know each other for a year. Never in a million lifetimes would he have guessed he would still be in touch with you after a year, let alone be together with you! But since he was a man of his word (and definitely not because your hopeful and anticipation-filled eyes were making him fold) he had to stick to his promise.
"Well," he started uncomfortably. "You know by now that it's not just a nickname, but a call sign, right?" You nodded. König continued, "Well, call signs are kind of like nicknames, but they are the ones you're pretty much stuck to. And they usually get made over something stupid or embarrassing." The way you looked at him and already hung on his every word made him melt inside, and made courage to tell the story bubble up in him. He scooted a little closer. "So one day, back when I was still with the Kommando Spezialkräfte, we had finished this mission and, because some things hadn't gone according to plan, we had to wait quite a while until we could be picked up. With the adrenaline rushing through our bodies and us desperately needing something fun after such an intense operation, a small group of our team decided to play king of the hill on a small hill close to our pick up point. I was still so young and very competitive, even more than I am now, so of course I had to join in!" König puffed up his chest, to act out the youthful pride he felt back then. You laughed. You knew just how competitive König could get in board games or his video games, so you could easily imagine it.
"So there's a bunch of us wrestling up on that small hill, right? And imagine, that hill was so small that having 3 people on that hill meant that only 2 people were really on the hill, and the third would be more to the side of the top of the hill, already standing on the sloping ground. It was tiny. And since there were a whole bunch of wrestling guys on it, it would be difficult to get to the top." You listened with open mouth, entirely focused, seeing the images in your head as König was telling this story. "But then I saw a tree that had a branch that went right over that hill! And with already practicing climbing weird places, because I had my hopes up of becoming a sniper back then, I decided to climb up that tree, over that branch and drop myself down right at the top of the hill and wrestle people off." A playful smirk pulled at König's mouth as he told this. He really seemed to enjoy this adventurous boyish part of the story.
"Unfortunately things didn't quite go the way I planned it," König added. "So what happened?" you asked. König's face flushed with embarrassment and he cleared his throat. "Well, I uh... I may have lost my balance?" "YOU FELL DOWN!?" you exclaimed, worried for his past self. "Sort of..." "What do you mean, sort of?" "Well, I sort of fell down, but a smaller branch caught on my belt loop, which uhh... It uhh..." König started stammering. "I was kind of hanging from the tree branch." You put your hands over your mouth in acted shock, trying not to laugh. "And to make things worse, my belt snapped too." It was impossible to still pretend not to laugh, but boy did you try hard. "And because my belt snapped, which I really needed to hold up my pants, I fell down further, ending up upside down just above the top of that hill, hanging from my ankles where my pants had bunched up." You couldn't hold your laugh anymore and full on snorted, the mental image was too funny. "Let's just say as the guys fell down laughing they decided I had earned the title king of the hill, which in German is König des Hügels, so König for short." König couldn't help but laugh a bit at it himself too. The way you reacted so genuinely and without judgment purely with joy, made it a lot easier to think back fondly of this humorous memory.
"So did anyone take a picture of that?" you asked, tears still in your eyes from your laughing fit. "GOD no!" König exclaimed. "No, thankfully nobody thought to take a picture. They just helped me down after dying from laughter." "Well, how about we take a picture together now, to commemorate you telling me this beautiful story?" And so you had a new photograph to add to your collection, one with both of you still visibly having the giggles, and if you looked closely, you could almost see the hearts in König's eyes looking at you. It was one of the best pictures yet.
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