arcadia (nsfw, mdni)
König taking his mask off during sex for the first time
it was after a long, long deployment. one of the ones where he hadn't been confident in his return. one of the ones where 2 minutes of your sweet voice drifting over the pay phone wasn't enough to suffice him. he had you mail him polaroids; in his shirt, in a towel, grinding against his pillow (you had begged him to be careful with that one) and even after he had stacked up quite a few under the thin mattress of his cot, he still wanted more.
when he finally got home and saw you, in your big t-shirt and shorts, he practically melted into your arms.
he inhaled your scent like it was his last breath, over and over again. he nuzzled into your skin, the lingering of your mango body wash greeting him pleasantly.
you fought the urge to grab at him, the urge to bunch up his gear until it tore, to suffocate him with every inch of your body. you let your hands cup the back of his head, petting down the nape of his neck carefully.
he didn't want to be colonel anymore- he wanted to be König. he wanted you to call him "Köni," and scratch his back to shreds. he wanted to be your boyfriend, your other half- not an attack dog for the first time in five months.
he wanted you to call him baby and look up at him with your sweet, doe eyes. he wanted to feel your soft hands against the small stubble on his face.
he had taken your shirt off while his boots were still on. he was in the middle of dragging your shorts down your legs with his gloves when you had to stop him, gently, with a glimmer of amusement in your eyes. "You'll crush me if you do me with all that gear on."
he was thankful the mask hid the blush on his face as he kicked his boots off in practised fashion, his tactile cargos and uniform shirt thrown carelessly to land in a heap somewhere.
and finally, there he was, in nothing but shorts in front of his girl after all those months.
you looked up at him with faux patience, batting your mascara-dolled lashes at his deep blue eyes.
"what are you waiting for, baby?" you finally ask, softly, trying to hide the way your gaze keeps dropping to his strong abs, quads, the obvious tent in his shorts.
you swore, every time he came back from deployment, he was twice as muscular.
he hoisted you up in his arms, and you squealed in surprise. your legs wrapped around his waist in a heartbeat. he could feel the wetness of your panties against his core and it drove him nuts as he carried you.
he pressed you down on the bed firmly, his hands groping at the cups of your bra. you laughed lightly, arching your back off the bed to let him unclasp the pink bra keeping you covered.
you're so perfect in front of him, he thinks, so perfect.
his perfect girl would never judge him, right?
his hands toy with the hem of his mask, peeling it up tentatively to expose the bottom half of his face.
your eyes widen in surprise, before darkening with a tone of lust and want. the slope of his jaw was hard as stone, the work of years and years of clenching with stress and determination. You loved your brave boy.
"My boy," You cupped his jaw, his stubble rough against the softness of your hands. You felt his chin, poked your thumb into the peak of his mouth.
His eyes softened when you called him that. His deathly cold facade melting away in the heat of your gaze on him.
You reach up to the bunched fabric, slowly moving it up, revealing more and more of the man you care for so deeply, and he lets you.
you feel his breath hitch as you're about to uncover his eyes. He stops you gently, his hands over yours, moving them over your own eyes.
"Don't look,"
He whispers, so soft you think you've imagined it.
You answer him with a small nod, covering your eyes completely. The soft thud of his mask hitting the mattress beside you stirred heat up in your stomach.
You can feel the weight of him on you again, his bulge pushed against the wetness of your panties as your legs wrapped around his waist like muscle memory.
His breath hitches as he takes your hands away from your face, and he has to shut his eyes because he's afraid of what you'll think of him.
"My handsome boy,"
When he looks at you, a face of pure joy and content is staring back at him, and he doesn't think he's felt anything better. Your hands are eager to thread through his hair, scratch at the back of his scalp, feel the lines of his forehead and the dents of his dimples. No, he hasn't felt anything better.
Even when he's balls deep inside of you, his dick swallowed into your plushy walls, your nails dug deep into the muscles of his back and your legs clamping tight around his waist, it's a close second to your face seeing his for the first time.
His jaw is slack as he fucks into you, his weight pressing you down beneath him, completely at his mercy. God, you love it.
Love how he can do whatever he wants with you. How he can throw you around and manhandle you into whatever position he wants. How he can go from being rough and fucking you to tears, to softly pressing you down and watching every expression you make below him.
You can feel the puffy red lines you're making on his back, but you can't help it. His back is so broad you could get lost on it, and your hands want nothing more than to explore the vastness of tendons and muscle and scar.
You're so close to finishing, his hips snapping against your ass hard and deep, his eyes trained on yours with military precision. His adam's apple bobs with each thrust, and for the first time, you can see the way his jaw clenches and his eyebrows narrow as he grows closer and closer to release.
"Köni-"
There's that name, Köni. That name he likes so much. That word that makes him feel like he's not some military pitbull but your boy, your handsome boy who fucks you just right, holds you down and makes you cum eight times in ten minutes.
"Köni, I'm gonna cum-"
"I know, baby, cum on my dick, fuck-"
He thumbs your clit and within seconds feels your pussy pulse around him with release, your slick covering his hand.
He fucks into you a few more times before cumming over your thighs, his eyes nearly rolling back.
It's you and him, panting, sweaty and over-stimulated, looking down and up at each other. You can't stop looking at your handsome boy.
He smirks before practically falling into you, and you squeal under the weight.
He sighs contently as your nails pat the nape of his neck and shoulder blades. His face is buried on your chest, the sharp angle of his jaw against your plush boobs sending tingles throughout you.
"Köni, my boy," You murmur, eyes fluttering shut, body tired.
It's muffled by your breasts, but you hear a tired, "My girl," as a response, before the 6'10 military man falls limp in your arms.
A/N: guys i wrote this on the toilet with crippling cramps and constipation but im honestly in love w it. our big softie König <3