a/n: itâs 4 am and iâm currently posting this. i have such bad possessive konig brain rot itâs not even funny yo. he gets a little freaky in this chapter sorry pooks
part three of always in my mind.
ᄫᥠwarnings ~~
themes of military service, female bodied reader, possessive konig, stalker konig, reader is smaller than konig although no height is mentioned, eventual smut, slow burn but not too slow.
â ËïœĄâàšà§Ë
you lay in bed, the cold air from the ceiling fan hitting your face. you canât tell why youâre awake, maybe itâs konig filling your mind or is it the bed. i guess we will never know. the buzz of your phone snapped you out of your trance. it was konig calling you. you panicked.
â hello?
you said with a tired and shaky voice. partially because youâre nervous to hear his voice again.
your voice is like music to his ears.
â mm. i have some news for you.
you brace yourself.
â iâm coming to [home] in two days.
he says with enthusiasm.
you sit upright and fiddle with the hem of your shirt.
â no way! now i really do need to schedule that play date.
your voice sounds so perfect and innocent to him.
â you better get to it. i expect a week full of stuff to do.
the phone hung up before you could even respond.
you sighed and looked around to find the clock you had hanging from your wall. 3 am. fun.
wait. did he say a week??
i donât think youâve ever felt such nervousness in your life. you scanned the airport waiting to see the 6â9 man walking towards you. you had seen him unmasked, but the world hadnât and he wasnât ready.
the day he unmasked him self was such an intimate time, he wonders how he didnât fall in love right then and there. your delicate hands running across his jagged skin. a feeling he wish was forever etched into his mind.
you played with your fingers as you waited to see him, itâs not hard to find him in a crowd full of people. it felt like hours passed until you finally saw him. it was literally only 3 minutes.
there he was, in all his glory. and there you were, his beautiful princess he has sworn to protect, like a knight he will do anything for you. you didnât know that yet, but he made sure you would.
you could see the smile through his face mask. although very faint, he has small creases at the corner of his eyes. he walked all too fast for the moment to feel real.
no words were exchanged when you first saw each other, there wasnât enough time. he was already picking you up and hugging you so tightly.
the feeling wasnât foreign, nor was it forgotten.
â ahh, my maus. how long it has been!
he said with a low voice. almost too low and bellowy.
the giggle you let out as he placed you down was like heavens gates opening to him. he wants to pick you up again and carry you back to his home in austria, and make you his beautiful wife. but he canât do that just yet.
you directed him to your car and helped him place his bags in the trunk. although, you didnât pick up a single thing, he enjoyed your presence.
he was way too big for your car. even with the seat fully reclined, he was still too big. his thighs uncomfortably stretched in the small seat, and his big arms were resting against the door weird. you took notice to this.
â are you comfortable over there?
you said with a hint of sarcasm.
he sighed and looked at you driving. your eyes so focused on the road, he wants your eyes focused on him and only him.
â definitely..
he said trying to readjust himself, it didnât work.
â so.. how was the flight? i know it mustâve been tiring. you can take a nap in my bed or the couch if you want.
you said with a smile on your face. although you were still focused on the road you smiled for him, how cute.
â yea it was tiring alright. and i think i might be too big for you bed but i will try.
he was ecstatic to finally see your apartment. and you offered your bed to him? he hopes you guys will be asleep together by the end of the week.
you walked to your apartment and felt the stares. konig walking behind you with a cold gaze made it look like he was your bodyguard. you just simply wanted to hangout with a friend.
you unlocked your apartment door and nearly tripped. a big hand snaked around your waist to catch you. tension immediately filling the air. his icy blue eyes stared back at yours and just for a moment you swear his pupils dilated.
â ah, thanks iâm sorry iâm so clumsy sometimes.
you said brushing yourself off.
donât even worry about it [name], he loved it just as much as you did.
you lead him to your bedroom. it was big but just right for your size. the dresser is full of clothes, unorganized and some clothes on the floor. artistic disorder he thought. you had made your bed and perfectly placed your pillows in their respective spots. your room smelt like you, better than he remembered. pictures littered your walls and he noticed a calendar with kittens on it. cute.
â um, so this is my room. haha, itâs a little messy ignore that i shouldâve cleaned.
you said with a giggle.
â itâs okay, it fits you.
you raised and eyebrow at him.
you told him where to place his bags at and he obliged, obviously why wouldnât he listen to his grounding force in life. you continued your little house tour and stopped at the bathroom.
â so i took a shower earlier, iâm sorry if the smell is strong..
you fiddled with your fingers nervously.
the smell of your body wash filling his senses. this was almost too much for him. heâs definitely stealing a towel for himself. he looked around, a hair dryer, straightener and curler laid out on the sink. not very safe [name].. if he was there he would tell you otherwise. and punish you accordingly.
you turned around to look at him and noticed him staring down at you. you havenât felt this intimidated in a while.
â do uh.. do you want a cup of tea or anything?
you said ushering him out of the bathroom, it was a small space so it was hard for both of you to fit. he can make it work later.
â no really iâm okay. i think iâm going to lay down if thatâs okay.
he said smiling, he was just eager to look through your stuff.
you smiled innocently and look up at him with those pretty little eyes.
â of course! i understand.
you were slightly disappointed and he could see it on your face. but he had things to do.
he entered your room gently, making sure not to knock anything out of place. he started to look through your nightstand, he liked what he saw. pictures of you, him and the squad on your dresser. he smiled to himself. he walked around a little more and stopped at your vanity. an assortment of makeup, hair products, and skincare products sat neatly on it. a plush chair, fit for a princess, was pushed out like you forgot to push it back in. he finally looked over to your bed and plopped down. his feet dangling off the edge made him laugh. he curled up in your blanket, taking in your smell. it was perfect in every way. if only you were in bed with him.
you were in the living room watching a movie, half asleep from a lack of rest and about to go to sleep. you tried to stay awake in case konig woke up from his nap and wanted to talk to you. but he never napped he went through your room stealing small pieces of you. first to go was panties. last to go was a tank top of yours.
he walked into the living room quietly since you were on the 8th floor and he has pretty loud footsteps. he saw you laying there on the couch, pretty eyes shut, hair covering your face ever so slightly and lips parted just a little. you were so vulnerable, so perfect right now.
he scooped you up into his arms with ease and carried you to your room. he laid you down gently in your bed and tucked you in. he smiled at you ever so softly. what a perfect day today is.
he continued his search through your apartment. he looked through mail, bath products, food and books you had. wondering if he should take something, but you walking in on him in the kitchen brought him back to reality.
â konigâŠ?
your tiny tired voice spoke out. your hair was a mess and your eyes were watery.
â yes maus?
he wondered if you were about to cry, you looked like it.
â when did i fall asleep? and how did i get to my bed?
you rubbed your eyes slowly approaching him.
he watched you with careful eyes. making sure not to scare you.
â i donât know when you fell asleep, but i carried you back to your room.
he said maintaining eye contact with you.
â iâm sorry, i didnât mean to fall asleep.
you were about to cry, taking a nap when your guest just arrived isnât a great way to treat him.
he noticed your eyes tearing up. he didnât know what to do. he wasnât a therapist heâs a war criminal.
â itâs okay [name]. i fell asleep too.
no he didnât. he hoped you wouldnât see through his lies.
â with me!!?
your eyes were now fully opened, heart beating, and chest heaving.
he wonât admit it but he loves seeing you like this, he wonders what you would look like under him begging him for mercy. those beady eyes crying from overstimulation. he needed you in every way possible.
â no! i just woke up before you and then carried you to bed.
he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes.
you looked at him with that same look you gave him when you first met. pureness, unsullied beauty, and gracious affection. you were all he needed in life and didnât know if you felt the same way. he has a week to win you over.
you sighed in response to him.
â do you want to go out and get dinner?
you smiled at him.
â of course, how could i deny a date?
he wishes you knew what he meant by that.
you stared at him blankly. did he just say date? yes he did my dear reader. he did say date.
â a date..? like as friends right?
you didnât know if you wanted him as a friend or a boyfriend.
he smirked, obviously amused by your cheeks getting redder.
â obviously.
he scoffed masking his displeasure. he would punish you for that one later.
check my âabout meâ for more information on me and my boundaries.
here's my masterlist! this has everything ive wrote as a fic here, again, check âabout meâ for information. some fics are unfinished, and might remain unfinished due to the amount of requests.
this blog contains smut, angst and fluff - request are always open (unless they aren't, which i'll state why in a post (usually too many requests))
** if you're wondering why there's no rodolfo on this, at the time, i didn't write for rodolfo since i was still learning and reading more about his character! (so sorry to all the rodolfo stans, i post short drabbles of him and plan to add more fanfics. in my kinktober masterlist (linked below) i have some drabbles/blurbs about him. :)
KINKTOBER mlist. about me. viewing all my work.
ᄫᥠfluff/sfw
⊠smut/nsfw
⧠angst
tf141 + könig
yandere 141 x gn!reader (not all characters)á„«áĄâŠ
them + könig walking in in you changing âŠ
tf141 + könig their kinks and favourite positions/paceâŠ
tf141 + könig their reaction to you slapping/grabbing their ass á„«áĄâŠ
tf141 + könig with a reader whos experienced saâ§
what if reader falls inlove with yandere cod after being kidnapped?â§
tf141 + könig + alejandro + graves with a reader who has daddy issuesâ§
yandere tf141 + könig, alejandro & graves with a reader whose family is mentally abusive to themâ§
yandere 141 + könig, alejandro and graves with a darling who commits suicide
könig
könig sex on a mission âŠ
könig nsfw alphabet âŠ
stuffed (ghost x könig x reader) âŠ
königs reaction to a s/o who doesn't like blowjobs and likes gentle sex âŠ
yandere könig jealous headcannons âŠ
yandere könig when their darling is sická„«áĄ
yandere könig when someone hurts their darling (gn!reader)â§
yandere könig first meeting their darling and how the kidnapped themâ§
their darling finally escapesâ§
yandere könig when their darling makes them something specialá„«áĄ
könig with a darling who is niave/innocentâŠá„«áĄ
könig rescuing hostageá„«áĄâ§
könig apologies for cheatingâ§
TREPIDATION (dark!könig x f!reader)
simon ghost riley
simon riley headcannons, both sfw and nsfwâ§âŠá„«áĄ
ghost meets his sister (part one)â§
ghost nsfw alphabet âŠ
ghost takes care of you when you're sick
stuffed (ghost x könig x reader) âŠ
ghosts reaction to a s/o who doesn't like blowjobs and likes gentle sex âŠ
jealous ghost x f!readerâŠ
yandere ghost when someone hurts their darling (gn!reader)â§
yandere ghost first meeting their darling and how the kidnapped themâ§
their darling finally escapesâ§
yandere ghost when their darling makes them something specialá„«áĄ
ghost cheats on you againâ§
ghost pushes you awayâ§
bodyguard!ghost overhears a conversation about himâ§
deploymentâ§
ghost finds out about your drug misuseâ§
simon riley as a dad headcannonsá„«áĄ
ghost with a s/o who struggles with bulimia (ed warning)â§
yandere ghost x singer!f!reader
part oneâ§
part twoâ§
part threeâ§âŠ
yandere ghost x singer!f!reader headcannonsâ§
"earl, grey please"
chapter one, (second time meeting you.)â§
chapter two, (you came back.)á„«áĄ
chapter three, (old memories.)â§
stygian series
stygian (chapter one)â§
johnny soap mactavish
yandere soap scenarios and situations âŠ
yandere soap jealous headcannonsâŠ
yandere soap being sweet (but still possessive/obsessive)âŠá„«áĄ
soap NSFW alphabetâŠ
yandere soap when someone hurts their darling (gn!reader)â§
yandere soap first meeting their darling and how the kidnapped themâ§
their darling finally escapesâ§
yandere soap when their darling makes them something specialá„«áĄ
yandere soap with a reader who puts up a fightâ§
phillip graves
yandere phillip graves oneshotsâ§
"you're all mine." yandere graves x f!readerâŠ
alejandro colonel vargas
yandere alejandro oneshot/headcannonsâ§
alejandro with a darling who is niave/innocentá„«áĄâŠ
captain john price
yandere john price x reader gn!readerá„«áĄâŠ
yandere price when they see bruises on their darlingâ§
captain john price with a darling whose a bit delusionalâ§á„«áĄ
price nsfw headcannonsâŠ
SOLIDARITY (warnings, DV/domestic abuse/violence)
home sweet home . â§
kyle gaz garrick
yandere gaz x gn!readerá„«áĄâŠ
yandere gaz when they see bruises on their darlingâ§
literally just him jacking off to you and being delusional idk
[wc: 2k] [nsfw] [female reader]
Heâs tossing and turning in bed, and he canât seem to get comfortable no matter what he does. He had ditched his shirt after around an hour of staring up at the dark ceiling and feeling like his chest was going to cave in, but the sensation still wouldnât leave him even after. Like itâs clinging on to every square inch of his body and eating away at him, similar to his tight shirt before being removed, though refusing to dissipate after the multiple attempts in distracting himself.
Heâs burning up, and he feels it most beneath the fabric of his sweatpants. He stretches his back and shoulders against his mattress, but it gives him no relief. And he needs that relief, so desperately, he thinks he may just die if he goes another minute longer in this state. The twitching in his muscles with the compulsion that plagues them are far stronger than his mind. He huffs a final exasperation, mutters some broken and degrading swears in German, and ultimately, he gives in.
He swipes his unusually cold palm over his face before dragging it down his chest, trailing across his abdomen and following the wake of soft hair that disappears beneath the peaking waistband of his boxers. His fingertips stretch the band as they dip beneath it, and his breath is becoming heavier yet weaker, more shaky-like, as they creep closer to where he needs attention the most.
Heâs teasing himself, involuntarily and painfully. Perhaps this is his last attempt to allow himself a second thought, think twice before he commits such a dirty act on military grounds. But his mind is far too fuzzy to pay attention, itâs just been so long.
His hand finds his cock, exhaling a shaky breath at the forbidden contact, this is his last chance to turn back. His boxers are growing to be too tight around him, and this time he wonât be able to just put up with it until his thoughts dissipate. He needs release, and soon. It wonât be much, itâs only once, and then he can finally sleep, he convinces himself.
He pulls his boxers down his pelvis, leaving them just below where his hard cock is now free. He wraps his fist around his base, fingers enveloping each vein that bulges with desperation. He groans ever so softly, jaw slacked and eyes closed as goosebumps coat his chest and arms. Itâs mere seconds before his mind is plummeting into uncontrollable thoughts and damned-worthy desires.
Itâs your hand, heâs already imagining. Itâs your smaller fingers around his cock, not enough to compensate for his size but still a hundred-times better than any fist could work. He knows youâd make it work. Youâre clever like that, far more than he is.
Itâs your thighs straddling his as your arm moves up and down at an excruciating pace. He needs your weight on him so fucking bad, preferably on his shoulders and face as heâd hold you down on his mouth. Fuck, he needs to taste you so bad.
Itâs your voice that would talk him through it, command him on what to do until heâs broken down to the young, naive, want-to-be soldier he once was. Heâll do anything you say. Heâll walk through Hell and back if you tell him to. Hand on his heart, honest to whatever god may be out there. Smack him around.
Anything you say.
And itâs him who would satisfy your every want with unending diligence to thank you. Just fucking use him, already.
He couldnât shake the thought, no matter how hard he tried.
No matter how dirty he felt imagining his coworker in such a position, rather than a woman of what he thinks his type should be, or even an actress from a porn magazine. No matter how unlikely it was that heâd have a chance with you, itâs downright embarrassing. And no matter how heavy that guilt sat in his gut, his fist only squeezes tighter with his strokes, retaining that languid speed that has him gritting his teeth.
You flood his mind and you donât even know the magnitude of it because youâre just a girl living your, perhaps slightly unconventional, life in the military, and heâs the coworker that people only look twice at to check if, yes, he really is that tall.
Flashes of your face, and that pretty body of yours in the most innocent of outfits, refuse to quit their tormenting of his mind, and here he was, fucking his fist to them at night like a desperate dog. He wants to see how your skin would contrast his pale and heavily scarred exterior, and how you would surely take him from his comfort zone and make him a better man.
He swipes his thumb over the head of his cock with a broken whine, collecting his pre and spreading it down his shaft as far as it goes; fuck, heâs so sensitive, and he just needs more. He can hear your voice in the back of his mind, conceptualizing what you would say as you guide him past his threshold. Youâd be so sweet on him, just as you always are on the rare occasion youâre put in a position together where talking seemed the best option for pastime. You really are just perfectly perfect all around, he thinks, and he wants you to know it, so bad.
Youâre too good for him, youâre too striking. Truthfully, while the thought of you taking care of him in his most vulnerable state has him thirsting like a dog and bucking his hips up into nothing but a mangled hand and cold air, he knows thatâs not him. No, he needs to be of service, one way or another.
He knows heâd be on his knees in front of you, on the ground you walk on, looking up at you with big eyes as heâd place kisses all up and down your bare thighs, careful not to ruin your clothes. Heâd worship every part of your body until all you knew was utter admiration, though he doubts youâve ever gone a day without being honored for your being.
How could any man not leap at the opportunity to praise your every step in life, especially if youâve taken him to bed?
He actually whines out into the empty space of his quarters, face all beet red and eyes bleary from surprising himself with such an act. Self-deprecating whispers linger in the back of his mind and will remain for when heâs later clearheaded, but for now, the only think he can think to do is continue fisting his sensitive cock to the notion of being with you.
Heâd let you mold him to whatever you wanted, heâd beg you to ride his face and get yourself off with his assistance. He wants to get drunk on your pussy, he knows he would. He knows youâd taste better than anything he has ever had, and he knows he wouldnât be able to stop himself once he starts unless you say something. Punish him, even, for not doing it right or knowing both of your limits because heâs just such a hungry, greedy whore who only wants more, more, and more.
Should you ever let him into your life, heâd be better off quitting his job and dedicating his future to just making you feel so good and so loved, and so, so proud of him. He wants to hear you call him a good boy, maybe even a loyal slut. Etch it into his skull so he could never forget, as if thatâd ever be possible.
Heâd fuck you in any position youâd like, and he means any.
Lay on your back, legs spread and just begging for him to bury his face in your cunt, and heâll listen like the good boy he is until youâre beyond satisfied. Stretch it out to hours if you please; the man has stamina that would put any gold-medalist to shame, and never once in his life, has he been a quitter.
âiâm good, i promise i am⊠iâll be a good boy for you, please.â
Pin him to the mattress and ride him until he canât think or speak, use him to reach your own high while taking him for all that he has because thatâs all heâs there for, is to make you feel good. The strictest soldier would turn to putty under your hold.
âdas istââŠsâtoo much, ich flehe dichânghâ! bitte, bitteââ
Pull him into an abandoned building and make him fuck you on the cold, hard floor despite being at work, on the job. He would jeopardize even the highest value of intel for a piece of you.
âiâll do anything, i swear⊠iâll be quiet, i-iâll let you use me⊠jusâ wanna make you feel good. itâll make me feel good, too.â
Either way, heâs going to end up on his knees once again and, if you allowed, watch his pearly cum drip from your puffy cunt before taking two of his fingers and pushing it back in, words and babbles of endless praise slipping from his lips as he imagines the idea of starting his own little family with you.
His abdomen feels tighter just thinking of it, you, and his hand with a lethargic pace around his cock. His breathing is jagged, ruthlessly so, and it picks up when his fist does as well. He stretches and rolls his shoulders, dying whimpers spilling from his lips. Your name, as well, and heâs blushing more violently then ever. Youâve got a spell on him; heâs all yours, if you want.
Christ, what would you say to him right now? Scold him, berate him. Even slap him for jerking off to the mental image of you without your permission, and edge him until he cries like an abandoned baby. Call him pathetic and promise him heâll never, ever have a chance because he is such a coward, and all.
Oh, but youâre just so sweet on him. He doesnât think heâs ever even heard you swear, let alone insult someone. You go to such great lengths to lighten the mood, make people feel so safe and welcome around you. And your fucking laugh, Christ, your giggles are always music to his ears. Anything that isnât praise would sound far too foreign in your voice for him to compute. With those soft, plump lips at his ear, cooing him through his high heâs gonna reach so early, so fucking soonâ fuck, he'sâŠ
Heâs gonnaâ
A soft knocking on his door causes his hand to stop and eyes to shoot open, lightly gasping for air as he was pulled just seconds away from his orgasm. Heâs frozen, dead in his tracks, and he waits for it to happen again to make sure he wasnât just hearing things. The one time, he succumbs to his perverse hankerings.
A few seconds go by before he hears the knocking once more, this time sure it was for him. He swiftly sits up and then stands, shoving his cock in his boxers and pulling his pants back up. He leans down to grab his shirt, pulling it over his big head, introducing a new type of discomfort from before due to the cold sweat he broke coating his chest. Heâs reaching for his helmet when thereâs a voice coming from the other side of the door, and the hardened soldier nearly jumps in surprise.
âKönig?â
Oh, fuck. His entire body tenses up at the wake of your voice. Outside his room, right now, when he was just fucking his fist to the image of you. He couldnât begin to describe or label what heâs feeling, but itâs something along the lines of utter shame and mortification. He mutters a quick and defeated curse under his breath, aggression only aimed at himself.
Youâre speaking up again before he even has time to think, granted his mind was spinning and he was making no move to answer you. Heâs frozen, stuck in space. Time seemed to race by him without warning, and he hated it.
âAre you awake?â
Your voice is gentle, as always, and so quiet in order to not wake anyone else in the corridor. Heâs surprised he could understand you so well, then again, heâd recognize your voice from a klick away.
Could you hear him from outside his door? He wouldnât ever be able to recover. His hard cock twitches in his pants at the thought of being caught in the act of jerking off to you, and he shakes his head, fighting back the groan boiling in his chest at the simple, yet so fucking intricate, idea of it. Heâs a mess.
He decides against the hood, which would most likely prove a mistake as he could literally feel the heat exuding from his face. He knows his hair is a sore sight and his clothes are wrinkled beyond repair. Youâve ruined him, and you donât even know it.
He swallows thickly as he trudges over to the door, attempting to clear his throat and stabilize his breathing, and his hot palm lands on the screaming door handle.
König meets the new recruit from the states and he's dark, somewhat jealous but allll hers, watch them navigate their new relationship.
-swf-> Part 1 -nsfw-> Part 2 -nsfw-> Part 3
-nsfw-> Part 4 *part 5 coming soon*
Locked on Target - Simon 'Ghost" Riley *COMING SOON*
You've worked alongside the 141 for a year now and your festering infatuation with the infamous Ghost is slowly eating you alive, pushed to confess by none other than Soap will Ghost leave you in the dust of rejection or swallow you whole?
Gotham Under the Lights - Bruce Wayne/Batman
As a starving artist you are constantly drawing your hometown of Gotham, especially at night, and as of recently youâve become enamored by getting a look at the infamous Batman so he can be your latest creation.
Welcome to my masterlist! Hereâs what you need to know about my blog.
Most fics are/will be 18+ on my page so mdni! I try my best to include all warnings, which you need to read beforehand and be aware of.
Also- If youâd like to be in my tag list of any of my fics, feel free to let me know in the comments! I do take requests but not all the time. I make specific playlists for fics I write and Iâll be sure to include them in my masterlist when I can! P.S. a playlist for Sessions is out now!!!
Baby hairs stuck to the sweat of the back of your neck as you padded down the stairs to the communal kitchenette on floor 3. A heatwave had swept through the desert valley, expanse of sand still warm from the blazing sun, long since set. Youâd woken up with a parched throat, in search of a glass of water.
As you neared the kitchen, flickering phosphorescence of the 80âs refrigerator down the hallway revealed another sleepless soldier must be awake. You peered inside, with half a mind to turn around, depending on who you might discover; you were now painfully aware of your thin cotton tank top and threadbare sleep shorts that must be at least a decade old, and how a soldier may mistakenly perceive your attire as some sort of colourful welcome sign.
Your gaze fell upon König inspecting the contents of the fridge, and you immediately felt your muscles relax, knowing he would blush at a mere glimpse of your clothed chest, let alone bother you for it. It was known that the colossal man was always snacking, as the energy needed to sustain such a large body, as well as its profuse activity, was immense. Now he was basking in the cool air of the refrigerator, bent over to peer in, his arm draped over the door. The fluorescent glow illuminated the contours of his bare chest abdomen, and you found your eyes lingering.
Youâd never seen him shirtless before, and fuck, he was attractive. A greek marble statue carved by an expert hand. Lean rippling muscle, a pale, broad expanse of solid back, formed naturally by constant use and necessity. A well oiled machine, complete with a sheen of sweat glazing his heated skin. Your gaze trailed down, to a thick waist, soft indents of relaxed abs, and muscled hips which disappeared below the waistband of his pyjama pants.
Youâd had a crush on the Austrian soldier for a while now, but fate had never placed the two of you in a room together, or close enough for you to make true conversation with the introvert. He was friendly enough, but youâd never gotten past simple gentile greeting. His soft presence, however, always brought comfort with it. So large, yet unimposing, as if nothing could harm you with him there.
You breathed in, and took a step forward. Bare feet sticking to cool linoleum. He turned at the movement eyes darting, then relaxing when he saw you smiling at him. You now realized he wasnât wearing his mask. Somehow, it felt natural, here, under the cover of night. The lightsource behind him left much to your imagination as he turned toward you, however you were bathed in light. He could see your face, flushed with heat, cheeks shining with perspiration.
âKönig,â Your voice was soft as you greeted him, âCouldnât sleep either?â
He shook his head, his voice was deep and raspy with fatigue, and it nudged a quickened heart beat in your chest. ââS too hot.â
âI know. That fridge feels nice.â You brushed passed him, barely grazing his hip with yours, it left a fuzzy tingle in itâs wake. He seemed decidedly too large for the tiny kitchen, like a lion in a cage. Unnatural.
You turned, filling a glass with water, and found yourself wondering if he was watching you, studying the curves of your body the way you just had his. Perhaps he was noticing the way your shorts were a size or two too small, riding up the split of your ass. Perhaps he felt this pull towards you, as you did towards him. Pole to pole. You glanced over your shoulder to see him fully engrossed in comparing the nutrient facts of two different fruit cups. You felt yourself flush, and downed your glass of water, cool water soothing your heated body. Slightly.
You filled it again, before turning to him, taking a another sip from your cup. âWater?â
He turned slightly, looking down at you, âSure, thank you.â
Before you could think twice, you were handing him your own glass. His eyes flickered from the glass, down to you, and back to the glass. Before you could reiterate, correct yourself, grab him a new, clean one from the cupboard, he took it, a large pale hand swallowing it whole. It was littered with a collection of veins and small scars. You couldnât help but imagine how it might look compared to your own. Holding yours. Perhaps on your thigh. Your windpipeâŠ
As he raised it to his lips, his eyes held yours vehemently, the sight of his lips where yours had been moments ago made your head cloud slightly. You gazed up at him, ardent through your lashes, studying what you could see of his face.
Although bare before you, in face and body, his true form still escaped you. An enigma. You could make out broad, muscled shoulders, a pale, broad column of neck with a white, healed scar gracing one side. You wanted to graze it with your teeth. A glint of canines and a jaw, sharp, with a whisper of stubble. His nose was large and slightly crooked, in endearing way, as if it had been broken when he was a child. Flicker of an eye, green, which you knew all too well, as they were usually your only point of reference for his expression. His hair was light, tousled from bed, and looked in need of a trim, shorter pieces curling across his forehead and around his neck, damp with sweat. He was younger than youâd imagined. And, admittedly, more attractive.
He leaned into you, and your pulse quickened, before realizing he was only placing the glass on the counter beside you. âDanke.â You nodded up at him, words escaping you in the moment, his close proximity having an embarrassing effect on you. He was hard to read; you supposed that was part of his job. His true motives indecipherable, though laced throughout his subtle movements. Did he want to reach out? Touch you?
You were pulled from your thoughts, âWould you, uh, would you like a fruit cup?â His voice was hesitant, you could tell he felt as though he should offer you something in exchange for the drink. It was cute.
You smiled at him, and pulled yourself up onto the counter, feeling it cold against your skin. A reminder you werenât wearing anything under your threadbare shorts. âSure. Mango please.â
As he moved, chilled air swept across your body, goosebumps rose and you saw his eyes flick to your chest, the movement undetectable had you not been studying him. Your heartbeat quickenedâyour nipples must have been poking through your thin tank. He tore his eyes away quickly.
He cleared his throat and turned back to the fridge, as it illuminated his face you noticed a large scar running from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as well as a split lip. How strange, only hours ago he had been on the field. Ferocious. Violent. Yet here he was, presenting you with a fruit cup. He selected the one labeled mango, and you realized it was the one he had set aside to have himself, and the last mango. You watched as he attempted to open it for you, collossal fingers struggling to grasp the small tab.
You held back a grin. âHere, I can do it.â You opened it easily. Not wanting to dirty a spoon, you began to eat it with your fingers. You felt his eyes on you as you slipped the fruit into your mouth.
Now he was struggling to open his own, bent over to focus. You chuckled, âLet me help. âS difficult with your big hands, huh.â
Hair fell across his forehead as he raised his head to look at you, cheeks flushing at your remark, and it dawned on you that perhaps he was insecure about his size. The thought was almost funny to you âIf only you could tell him it was one of his best qualities. Hell, it made you want him. Badly.
âYeah, danke, liebling.â You opened it with no trouble, before handing it back to him. He stood in front of you, a foot of space between your thighs and his, thick with tension. You wanted him closer, the space feeling like both a mile and a hairâs width. Both of you were illuminated softly in the darkness, quietly eating packaged tropical fruit.
Your voice surprised you, breaking the comfortable silence, âWhat does that mean?â
âHm?â The deep sound made your throat dry.
âLiebling.â You cringed at your poor imitation.
âOh, uh..â he was blushing, avoiding eye contact. Your pulse quickened slightly with anticipation. What had he called you? His voice quieted with embarrassment, âIt means âdarlingâ.â
Your heart swelled at his words. Darling. König had called you darling. You leaned back against the cabinet, shoulder blades pressing into plywood, legs parting slightly. You saw his eyes waver from his snack to your thighs. Splayed out before him. Tilting your head up at him, your lips stretched into a smile and you blurted, âYouâre cute.â
He flushed at your words, eyebrows raised slightly. âReally? No one calls me that.â His fingers toyed with the plastic in his hands.
You finished your fruit, and licked your fingers clean, eyes on his. âI think youâre very cute.â His vehement eye contact as you sucked your finger made you dizzy. It felt intimate, even a little dirty- cliche. A low budget porno.
Something urged you to keep going. Push further. Whether it was the heat, the late hour or clenching of your cunt you couldnât be sure, but you wanted more. You wanted to touch him. âCan I try?â You nodded towards the last piece of fruit in his fingers. Your pulse hammered. He looked at his hand, and back at you, as you dared him to give it to you, feed it to you. Your palms were glued to the counter, making no move to do it yourself.
He swallowed hoarsely. You suddenly realized he was shy. Although he was an intimidating presence -colossal in comparison- you made him nervous. Your muscles tensed in anticipation, your jaw opened for him. âYeah,â His voice was soft and raspy. He leaned forward, lips parted slightly, mirroring yours. Your abdomen tightened as he grabbed the counter in between your legs, as if to stabilize himself, still not courageous enough to grab you. You gazed up at him, wanton through damp lashes as his fingers entered your mouth, so gently. Afraid to be too rough, afraid to hurt you. Used to being a bull in a china shop-but you could take him. God you could take him.
His lids were heavy, pupils blown as he stared at your lips. You felt his breath hitch as your lips wrapped around his fingers, sucking gently. Sweet, rough, calloused. Hot and large. You felt high with fervour, something in you wanted to take him deeper, show him you could do it. But you held back, pulling away with a quiet pop. Lips wet with juice and spit.
He raised his fingers, brushing a lock of hair from your cheek gentle with veneration, before they found the back of your head, skimming, then intertwining, tugging. Need overtook his timid respect. Your scalp prickled as he gripped the back of your head pulling you towards him. Into him. Your lips parted as you looked up at his face, back arching as he tugged you into him, searing cunt pressing molten against the cold plastic countertop. He was looking down at you with furrowed brows, need etched into every feature. Hot breath fanned your cheeks.
âBitte.â Please. âDonât tease me.â A fervent murmur that made your stomach flop. He pulled you into him, dwarfing you, lips searing against yours, his mouth opening immediately, inviting you in, pleading for more. More of you. He tasted of peaches and blood as his lip re-split with his mindless movements. Sweet ambrosia collocating with metallic copper. Oxymoron of gentle and harsh. Sweet and bitter.
He was scorching in your arms, musk and sweat. Deep and heady. Months of built up need unwinding, finally. Hot lust satiated, slightly. His grip was white knuckled on the counter between your plush thighs. Itâs proximity taunting you, reminding you how badly you needed him there. How your fingers hadnât been enough for the past months, how you were too small. But he could do it. God he could. He could fill you up- stretch you out. You couldnât help gripping his wrist, inching your way towards him, squirming, letting out a warbled whimper as your wet cunt dragged against the counter. He groaned into your open mouth, fingertips tightening in your hair when he found your puffy cunt bare for him, clenching, wet and waiting for him.
You jolted as rough fingers brushed your clit, letting out a quiet, pathetic whine. âQuiet, leibling.â His calloused thumbs rubbed circles around the sensitive spot, making you squirm. He groaned as his fingers glided slowly down your sopping slit. His head swam- all for him? This was all for him? He could hardly wrap his mind around the thought. Heâd touched himself at night, shamefully, thinking about you-about this puffy little cunt just a few doors down. And here you were, spread and ready for him, wanting to take him. His cock flushed beneath his waistband, heavy and hot. Needy.
You cried out softly as he split you open on his finger, and he pulled you into his shoulder, your mouth agape at the feeling of being stuffed with him. His middle finger twice the size of your own, you squirmed as he sank, knuckle deep. He pushed another inside of you, and you spasmed around him, overwhelmed at the euphoric feeling of being stretched so easily. Gummy walls pulled him in deeper. Sweat prickled his forehead as he held back his need to feel you squeezing his pulsing cock, the want to spread you open, fill you up- see how far you could go. See if you really could take all he wanted to give. You let out an airy moan as he hit that spongey spot inside of you with his middle finger, thighs glued together in over stimulation, spine arching-
Suddenly, to your dismay, he pulled out, quickly stepping away from you. You blindly reached out for him as cold air hit you. Reeling with emptiness. Had you done something wrong? Then you heard it, a creak of stairs. Heavy footsteps.
He reached out and you jolted as he brushed your clit, tugging your threadbare shorts back over your gaping cunt. He leaned back against the counter, face composed as ever.
A figure emerged from the hallway. It was the Lieutenant. He was squinting in the darkness to make out your figures. Voice was rough against the silence, save for the buzzing refrigerator, âAh, grabbing a snack too?â You could do nothing but stare at König, unable to believe he had been knuckle deep inside you just moments before.ïżŒ
König nodded, face relaxed, lids heavy. He raised his hand and your sopping cunt clenched as you saw him place his fingers to his mouth, to taste you. As the Lieutenant watched. Vulgar. Lecherous. Your spit, slick, and peach juice swirling together in his hot mouth.
You flushed down to your fucking thighs at his words: âYes sir, just having a peach.â
you were a newly recruited member of task force 141. despite your size, that feisty attitude, your unrelenting sass, and the way you stood your ground (even when you were wrong) caused quite a few fights among the crew, but most of them begrudgingly started respecting you for it.
however, those same bold remarks attracted the attention of a certain observant team member.
könig wasn't too anxious to speak to you, he just didn't really...care to. the last time you sparred, you annoyed the everliving fuck out of him when you claimed he cheated when he pinned you down to the mats.
despite his...irritation towards you, it did spark something inside of him. something he wasn't used to, a persistent, obsessive urge to put you in your damn place.
·:*šàŒș â±âźâ± àŒ»Âš*:·
Your last interaction with König, aside from seething glares and that stupid little pout you always had, was when he had your wrists pinned above your head, his large body pressing down onto you from above as you squirmed underneath him.
"You fucker! That wasn't- ugh," your childish rant was interrupted by a loud grunt as he shoved your hands against the mat, his head hovering over yours with that empty, dangerous look in his eyes. You defiantly stared back for a moment before huffing, turning your head to the side, and rolling your eyes. "Fine. Whatever. You win," you muttered, your lips curled into a frown. He seemed satisfied with that answer, lifting off of you easily. He brushed off his knee pads, crossing one arm over his chest to stretch it as he continued staring down at you.
"I do not wish for you to speak to me like that again," König declared quietly, his voice calm. But his mind wasn't. He hated the way you tried to worm your way out of every defeat, the way you talked back to everyone despite being the newest on the team. Most of the men found it funny, but he got the impression that you knew you were cute. You knew you could pout like that, widen your eyes up at them every time they dared to try and put you in your place. Their expressions would soften, and with a light sigh, they'd pat you on the shoulder and let you scurry off to go fuck with someone else. It made him so angry.
König worked endlessly to be where he was now. He didn't like to pull rank, in fact, he rarely ever did. Something about you made him want to, though. He wanted to see your face get all red and for you to scoff, fidgeting with your belt like you always did when you were nervous. To tower over you, to intimidate you, to finally make you realize how much of a goddamn brat you were.
But he didn't. No, he wasn't going to. Well, he didn't think he was going to, but that wasn't something he could guarantee.
·:*šàŒș â±âźâ± àŒ»Âš*:·
You were combing your hair, staring at yourself in the mirror. Something was soothing about the routine you had formed, albeit strenuous. Waking up at 3 a.m., working out until 4 a.m., eating and getting ready by 4:30 a.m., then hitting the shooting range at 5 a.m. No one was typically awake when you were completing each task, unless, of course, you were on an active mission, in which case you didn't even have time to think about anything other than your commanding officer's booming voices. No one seemed to notice the way you worked your ass off, but you liked to keep it that way. You wanted them to see you complain, whine, and bicker because it made it all the sweeter when you were the one who took down the last man standing on the battlefield.
When you walked back to the rendezvous point with dirt and blood smeared across your face, your hands shaking from adrenaline. The way your knuckles tightened as you gripped your gun like it was your lifeline, your eyes bordering on emotionless. The looks you got made it all more worthwhile.
But, that's not to say you didn't like complaining, that you didn't enjoy pushing everyone's buttons. You usually got away with it, batting your eyelashes and placing your hands behind your back while you rocked back and forth on your feet, whispering a quiet, "I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean it." You always meant it. But they didn't have to know that.
One person who hadn't budged in the slightest when you tried to woo him was König. You were a little more careful with him, partially because he kind of scared the shit out of you and the fact that he was twice your size. The way you caught him glaring at you out of the corner of your eye, his body quietly sneaking up behind you just so he could monitor what you were doing. You could tell he didn't trust you, and he probably didn't even like you. So, when you were laying flat on your stomach as you aimed the sniper rifle at a distant target, his voice was the last one you expected to hear from behind.
"You aren't doing that right." He spoke bluntly, a slight undertone of grogginess as he walked a bit closer, crouching down to meet your eye level. You whipped around, tugging off the makeshift sniper hood that you had secretly cut from one of your old shirts. König found your creative endeavor a little cute, although he didn't want to admit it to himself. You opened your mouth to speak, but you clamped it shut, narrowing your eyes. It was 5 a.m. There was no need for annoying remarks that early in the day, but the urge was strong.
You shifted upright, tucking your knees under yourself as you frowned at him. "Do you usually just tell people that they're doing something wrong, or do you actually give advice?" You blurted out, internally reprimanding yourself for saying those words. He cocked his head to the side, his eyes reduced to small slits from behind his mask. You could tell he didn't like that response.
Silently, he removed his own hood from his head, leaving your eyes wide and your brows furrowed with shock and confusion. You had never seen his face before, let alone under the fluorescent lighting of the shooting range booths. Before you could really take in his features, he shoved the hood over your face, tapping the back of your head lightly for you to return your gaze to the target. "Focus, ja? I will give you advice, despite being undeserving," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyebrow twitched with irritation, hidden underneath the dark hood before you resumed your flat position on the cold floor. Gripping the sniper tightly, you leaned forward and aligned your eye with the scope, squinting a bit.
"No," was all he said before tugging your legs back, making you lose your grip on the gun. He spread your legs a little bit while holding your ankles, causing you to whip your head around, the piece of equipment holding the gun up clattering on the floor. "What the fuck?" You exclaim, tugging off the mask. That was when you were able to get a better look at him, your eyes raking up and down his face.
His eyes were a nice, deep blue, dark brown eyebrows hovering over them. Black paint was still smeared right around the center of his face, a few scars littering his cheeks and one in the corner of his mouth. That scar emphasized the small grin toying at the corners of his lips. He raised a brow at you innocently, cocking his head to the side. "I am just showing you the proper technique, MĂ€uschen," he murmured, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
Your face flushed a bit before you shook your head, obviously frustrated. "Fine, how do I need to lay?" You grumbled, your back still facing him as you turned your head over your shoulder. König rolled his shoulders before scooting closer behind you, his hands finding purchase on your hips. His fingers gripped the underside of your stomach as he hoisted your waist up, one hand moving to press down on the small of your back. You furrowed your brows, turning back to snap something at him before he grabbed your head in his hand, swiveling you back out to look at the target. He swiped his tongue under his front teeth before nodding curtly, obviously satisfied with his work.
"Much better. This is a better angle," he muttered, his gaze raking over your body. Your eyes were shut as a small groan left your lips, a mixture of frustration and something else. "You know," you began, arching your back a little bit more. You were becoming increasingly more aware of his intentions, the way his hand was still curved under your stomach, holding you in place. You continued, "...if you have ulterior motives other than helping me aim better, you should just sa--"
Your words were cut off by his knee jamming in between your legs, making you gasp. "What the fu--" Another interruption.
"You would be much prettier, Liebling, if you didn't speak so much." His words were punctuated by his knee rubbing up against your core, making you exhale quickly. Your hands slipped underneath you as you tried to prop yourself up, causing you to be laying flat on the floor, minus your ass being hoisted up against him.
König hummed quietly in approval, the hand on your hip tugging you tighter against his knee's intrusive placement. "This is exactly how you should be shooting," he murmured, his thumb stroking your side gently as he loomed over you. You huffed out in annoyance, but your body was betraying your facade of frustration. The way his knee was pressed up against your cunt, the added friction of your clothing as he rubbed you...God, you could feel yourself beginning to drip. It was a shocking turn of events, of course, but you couldn't deny the way it turned you on. König on the other hand was thoroughly enjoying the show of you arched up against him, your uniform tightly hugging every inch of your body as it squirmed under him. He was only growing harder as he witnessed the obvious power dynamic, immensely satisfied that he had control over you and that fucking attitude.
He tapped your hip softly before speaking. "Go on. Pick up the rifle, set it up, and tell me if your aim is better now," he directed, his voice soft yet somehow taunting. He knew you wouldn't be able to hit the target, and he kind of doubted you'd even be able to hoist the gun up from your position on the floor. Much to his surprise and reluctant amusement, you lifted your upper body once more, picking up the gun and placing it on the prop. You turned your head to frown up at him, narrowing your eyes before returning your gaze to the scope.
With a firm grip, König's fingers looped around your pants, tugging them down roughly. This was poor timing, as your finger had just pressed down on the trigger, the gun firing off loudly and, obviously, not hitting the target. Not even close. You jumped, a small growl leaving your lips before your anger was quickly replaced with a feeling of warmth. His thick finger trailed down your already slick folds, the wetness obvious even underneath your tight underwear. It was laundry day, and that wasn't in your early morning schedule, so the thin black fabric squeezed around your hips and pussy, molding against the wet skin. "Mmfh," you moaned, your head dipping in between your shoulders as your eyes shut. He was watching the erotic display with an unwavering focus, the way your underwear moistened his finger.
"MĂ€uschen, I did not realize shooting got you so excited," he cooed, stifling a laugh as you began eagerly matching your hips to his finger's movement, your body instinctively craving more.
You grumbled, sucking in a sharp breath as his irritatingly hot tease hit your ears. "Shut the hell up," you hissed quietly, a small moan following soon after. He clicked his tongue, his smile still on his face as he finally let out a little chuckle. The sound was rough, but kind of cute. You couldn't help but lose the scowl, an amused breath leaving you.
Your breath hitched in your throat as he slowly curled his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, dragging it down to your thighs. He was silent save for a small grunt as he saw your glistening cunt, practically beckoning him in. König began to palm your core, his hand covering it whole as he pressed up against it firmly, working it in large circles. The feeling was unbearably nice, causing a quiet "fuck" to escape you. He liked that you were so responsive, so eager for his touch. So different from how you usually were, making people work for your permission and interest.
"I think you're forgetting about your task, [y/n]," he playfully reminded, his thumb brushing against your needy clit teasingly. You winced, secretly hoping he would forget about the damn shooting, but sighed as you aligned your eye with the scope once more. You could barely see through it from your position on the cold floor, but you still reluctantly shot at the target, surprising yourself as you shot somewhat near the area. However, your grip loosened on the gun as he abruptly moved his hand away. "See? And here you thought I couldn't shoot for shi- Oh, fuck!" You hissed, your eyes widening as you clamped a hand over your mouth.
Was that his fucking tongue?
König's face was now buried in between your legs, his tongue lapping up the wet entrance he had been so focused on. This is what he was thinking about the entire time he was staring, his mind racing. He didn't even hear what you said, solely concentrated on how fucking sweet you tasted. You pressed against his mouth, attempting to rub yourself up and down on his tongue, but his hands firmly grabbed your thighs, holding you in place. "Mein," he murmured, circling his tongue on your clit before taking it in his mouth, sucking gently. The smell of sex and your own arousal flooded the small booth as he worked his mouth against your pussy, wet suctioning noises filling your ears.
He entered two fingers inside of you, curling them upwards and moving them rapidly as he flicked his tongue against that sensitive bundle of nerves. The combination of sensations sent shockwaves straight to your core, and you were really beginning to struggle with how loud your moans were becoming. You buried your face into your arm, biting down on the fabric as he relentlessly devoured you, your legs shaking from how fucking good it felt. He groaned happily at your reaction, the sound vibrating against your dripping cunt. You were essentially slobbering on your own arm at this point, like an animal.
His fingers digging into your thighs felt like it was going to bruise, but you didn't mind. The idea of someone walking in at any point, though, was on your mind. You were in the middle of the shooting range, your Colonel eating you out, a gun still in your hand. Anyone could come in and see the two of you immediately. "K-König, we should p-probably...probably not be doing this..right here, y'know?" You murmured, twisting your head back to look at him, your brows knitted together and your mouth open as you panted. You squeezed your eyes shut, a loud, excited yelp erupting from you as he plunged a third finger inside in response.
"Why are you worrying, MĂ€uschen? Anyone would be happy to see you on the ground like this," he purred before dragging his tongue slowly up the length of your slit, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Your irritation with his dismissive words and tone was overshadowed by how close you were getting, the sensation of being filled up by his fingers and his tongue swirling around your pussy making your heart race.
You shuddered, clenching tightly around his fingers as he continued fucking you deeply with them, the sound of your wet cunt growing louder with every thrust. You were almost embarrassed at how loud it was, how gushy the noises were. He liked it, though. He liked that you were sopping wet for him already. Just made you taste better, hm?
"Mmfg, fuck..." you whined quietly, arching your back a little bit more. "I'm..I'm gonna cum, okay?" Your voice was shaky, desperate, even. He grunted in response, quickening his licks against your clit, his fingers curling aggressively, hitting that sweet, sweet spot deep inside of you. It was too much. Way too much. Your head drooped, your legs trembling even more as your stomach tightened. You buried your face against the floor, reaching out to grip the sniper to steady yourself as your orgasm wracked through your body. He didn't stop what he was doing even as he started to climax, making it all the more intense. You writhed against him, choked out gasps and moans leaving your lips as tears welled up in your eyes from the sheer energy of your orgasm.
Eventually, he pulled his face away from your pulsing, leaking core, the evidence of your orgasm coated on his fingers. He licked his fingers clean, not caring that you didn't even see. He did it for him, to keep the taste of you in his mouth for a little bit longer. With a soothing voice, he rubbed the small of your back, pressing your arched back into a more comfortable position on the floor. Leaning in to hover over your frame, he left your legs parted only slightly before whispering in your ear. "Not so talkative now, ja?" His breath ghosted against your neck, pulling you out of the haze he had left you in. You mumbled something under your breath before reluctantly nodding, a small smile on your lips. "Mhm," you muttered.
He let out a satisfied chuckle before pulling back away, positioning his legs on either side of yours, resting on his knees. You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, the metal clinking down onto the floor. He tugged his zipper down, pulling his pants down just a bit before rubbing his cock through the thin fabric of his briefs. You craned your neck to look, your tongue swiping over your bottom lip as heat flooded your needy cunt once again. He smirked just a little before lowering his briefs, his hardened length smacking against his muscular stomach as it sprung free.
Big. So fucking big. Holy shit. I don't think I can ta--
Oh, fuck.
König slammed into you, causing you to yell out, gasping for breath. He buried his cock into you, your inner walls struggling to take in the size of him as he held still. After a few moments of you panting, he pressed your thighs closer together, your ass barely hiding the lewd scene of him entering you so suddenly. With a hoarse voice, he spoke, "Hand me the gun. Now, Liebling."
You blinked rapidly, his words registering in your brain for a second before you acted. Trembling, your hand stretched to grasp the sniper rifle, holding it out for him to grab. His mouth twitched as he retrieved it from your shaky grip, and he gave you a taunting look. You pouted up at him, scrunching up your face.
"Do you want to see who you're disrespecting every time you talk back to your higher-ups, [y/n]?" He asked in a low voice, tilting up his chin as he aligned the rifle with his line of sight. You swallowed roughly, your cheeks burning at his blunt words. You chose not to respond, turning your head back out to where an unscathed mannequin was hoisted into the air, evidence of your poor aim while he was eating you out. He slowly pulled out, almost fully leaving your tight, wet pussy. His finger wrapped around the trigger, and as he pulled it, he plunged back into you *hard*.
Headshot.
Pulling out again, he chuckled. "Nothing to say now, hm?" He teased in a low voice, fingering the trigger once more.
Bang!
Another hard thrust, and another perfectly aimed shot. You felt your stomach tighten once more, your eyes drooping as he hit your cervix. You were throbbing, your arousal coating your inner thighs as you let out a loud whimper. He was completely filling you, leaving no room to move, no room to think. It was undeniably the best thing you had ever felt, despite knowing you probably weren't going to be able to sit comfortably the next day.
His thrusts became more rhythmic, the sounds of his cock slamming into you, wet, squelching noises evidence of how fucking hot this was to you. Him fucking you like this, a gun in his hand, his body completely dominating you...God, you knew you had to start talking even more shit if this was the consequence. He threw the gun down, satisfied with the reaction from your body to his display of power. König's hands firmly gripped your ass, his fingers digging into the soft, plump skin as he spread your cheeks apart. He hissed in pleasure as he stared down at the tight skin of your entrance spreading apart with every powerful thrust, the way you were shaking underneath him. He could've sworn he felt his heart flutter when he realized you were still staring at him, watching him fuck you like this from behind.
His eyes bore into yours as he slammed into you over and over, letting you see every twitch of his eyebrow, every bite on his lip. You felt so good wrapped around his cock, gripping onto him like a goddamn cocksleeve, perfectly sized for his length. He relished in the way you panted, how your tongue threatened to fall out of your mouth, your hair clinging to your sweaty forehead as you screamed out in pleasure.
Your orgasm was nearing and so was his, obvious by the way his thrusts became more erratic, less controlled. Your clit was rubbing against the floor at this point, which was thankfully blocked by the underwear hanging around your thighs. You felt filthy, forced to hump against the bunched fabric to get that extra stimulation, but it felt so goddamn good.
König wasn't extremely vocal throughout your little encounter, but as soon as he felt himself getting close, he was grunting in a desperate way that made you feel all kinds of dirty things. He was bruising your ass with his grip at this point, no doubt leaving imprints as he bottomed out over and over again inside of you. "ScheiĂe, baby," he growled, leaning over you as he continued pounding your eager pussy, his precum already seeping out as he moaned. "F-Fuck, I need to cum," he rasped, his head tilted back and his jaw clenching.
Honestly? Those words sent you over the goddamn edge again.
As you rode out the waves of your orgasm for the second time before 6 a.m., König lost his control. The way your pussy clenched and tightened as you came, coating his throbbing cock in even more of your juices made his mind go foggy with need. His pace quickened to an almost abusive speed, his groans becoming louder and louder. He hissed in pleasure before pulling out quickly, fucking his cock into his fist rapidly.
With one final string of growls and throaty moans, he panted, releasing stream after stream of his hot, white cum all over your back. His thick cum covered the black fabric of your shirt, no doubt leaving a stain that you weren't sure you wanted to remove.
He swallowed roughly, breathing loudly as he pulled away from your body, tugging up his pants. He snatched his sniper hood from beside your dazed face, your eyes almost closing as exhaustion swept over you. König crouched down, running a hand through your hair gently.
"Remember this the next time you want to test my patience, sweet girl," he whispered, placing a chaste kiss on your glistening forehead.
Baby hairs stuck to the sweat of the back of your neck as you padded down the stairs to the communal kitchenette on floor 3. A heatwave had swept through the desert valley, expanse of sand still warm from the blazing sun, long since set. Youâd woken up with a parched throat, in search of a glass of water.
As you neared the kitchen, flickering phosphorescence of the 80âs refrigerator down the hallway revealed another sleepless soldier must be awake. You peered inside, with half a mind to turn around, depending on who you might discover; you were now painfully aware of your thin cotton tank top and threadbare sleep shorts that must be at least a decade old, and how a soldier may mistakenly perceive your attire as some sort of colourful welcome sign.
Your gaze fell upon König inspecting the contents of the fridge, and you immediately felt your muscles relax, knowing he would blush at a mere glimpse of your clothed chest, let alone bother you for it. It was known that the colossal man was always snacking, as the energy needed to sustain such a large body, as well as its profuse activity, was immense. Now he was basking in the cool air of the refrigerator, bent over to peer in, his arm draped over the door. The fluorescent glow illuminated the contours of his bare chest abdomen, and you found your eyes lingering.
Youâd never seen him shirtless before, and fuck, he was attractive. A greek marble statue carved by an expert hand. Lean rippling muscle, a pale, broad expanse of solid back, formed naturally by constant use and necessity. A well oiled machine, complete with a sheen of sweat glazing his heated skin. Your gaze trailed down, to a thick waist, soft indents of relaxed abs, and muscled hips which disappeared below the waistband of his pyjama pants.
Youâd had a crush on the Austrian soldier for a while now, but fate had never placed the two of you in a room together, or close enough for you to make true conversation with the introvert. He was friendly enough, but youâd never gotten past simple gentile greeting. His soft presence, however, always brought comfort with it. So large, yet unimposing, as if nothing could harm you with him there.
You breathed in, and took a step forward. Bare feet sticking to cool linoleum. He turned at the movement eyes darting, then relaxing when he saw you smiling at him. You now realized he wasnât wearing his mask. Somehow, it felt natural, here, under the cover of night. The lightsource behind him left much to your imagination as he turned toward you, however you were bathed in light. He could see your face, flushed with heat, cheeks shining with perspiration.
âKönig,â Your voice was soft as you greeted him, âCouldnât sleep either?â
He shook his head, his voice was deep and raspy with fatigue, and it nudged a quickened heart beat in your chest. ââS too hot.â
âI know. That fridge feels nice.â You brushed passed him, barely grazing his hip with yours, it left a fuzzy tingle in itâs wake. He seemed decidedly too large for the tiny kitchen, like a lion in a cage. Unnatural.
You turned, filling a glass with water, and found yourself wondering if he was watching you, studying the curves of your body the way you just had his. Perhaps he was noticing the way your shorts were a size or two too small, riding up the split of your ass. Perhaps he felt this pull towards you, as you did towards him. Pole to pole. You glanced over your shoulder to see him fully engrossed in comparing the nutrient facts of two different fruit cups. You felt yourself flush, and downed your glass of water, cool water soothing your heated body. Slightly.
You filled it again, before turning to him, taking a another sip from your cup. âWater?â
He turned slightly, looking down at you, âSure, thank you.â
Before you could think twice, you were handing him your own glass. His eyes flickered from the glass, down to you, and back to the glass. Before you could reiterate, correct yourself, grab him a new, clean one from the cupboard, he took it, a large pale hand swallowing it whole. It was littered with a collection of veins and small scars. You couldnât help but imagine how it might look compared to your own. Holding yours. Perhaps on your thigh. Your windpipeâŠ
As he raised it to his lips, his eyes held yours vehemently, the sight of his lips where yours had been moments ago made your head cloud slightly. You gazed up at him, ardent through your lashes, studying what you could see of his face.
Although bare before you, in face and body, his true form still escaped you. An enigma. You could make out broad, muscled shoulders, a pale, broad column of neck with a white, healed scar gracing one side. You wanted to graze it with your teeth. A glint of canines and a jaw, sharp, with a whisper of stubble. His nose was large and slightly crooked, in endearing way, as if it had been broken when he was a child. Flicker of an eye, green, which you knew all too well, as they were usually your only point of reference for his expression. His hair was light, tousled from bed, and looked in need of a trim, shorter pieces curling across his forehead and around his neck, damp with sweat. He was younger than youâd imagined. And, admittedly, more attractive.
He leaned into you, and your pulse quickened, before realizing he was only placing the glass on the counter beside you. âDanke.â You nodded up at him, words escaping you in the moment, his close proximity having an embarrassing effect on you. He was hard to read; you supposed that was part of his job. His true motives indecipherable, though laced throughout his subtle movements. Did he want to reach out? Touch you?
You were pulled from your thoughts, âWould you, uh, would you like a fruit cup?â His voice was hesitant, you could tell he felt as though he should offer you something in exchange for the drink. It was cute.
You smiled at him, and pulled yourself up onto the counter, feeling it cold against your skin. A reminder you werenât wearing anything under your threadbare shorts. âSure. Mango please.â
As he moved, chilled air swept across your body, goosebumps rose and you saw his eyes flick to your chest, the movement undetectable had you not been studying him. Your heartbeat quickenedâyour nipples must have been poking through your thin tank. He tore his eyes away quickly.
He cleared his throat and turned back to the fridge, as it illuminated his face you noticed a large scar running from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as well as a split lip. How strange, only hours ago he had been on the field. Ferocious. Violent. Yet here he was, presenting you with a fruit cup. He selected the one labeled mango, and you realized it was the one he had set aside to have himself, and the last mango. You watched as he attempted to open it for you, collossal fingers struggling to grasp the small tab.
You held back a grin. âHere, I can do it.â You opened it easily. Not wanting to dirty a spoon, you began to eat it with your fingers. You felt his eyes on you as you slipped the fruit into your mouth.
Now he was struggling to open his own, bent over to focus. You chuckled, âLet me help. âS difficult with your big hands, huh.â
Hair fell across his forehead as he raised his head to look at you, cheeks flushing at your remark, and it dawned on you that perhaps he was insecure about his size. The thought was almost funny to you âIf only you could tell him it was one of his best qualities. Hell, it made you want him. Badly.
âYeah, danke, liebling.â You opened it with no trouble, before handing it back to him. He stood in front of you, a foot of space between your thighs and his, thick with tension. You wanted him closer, the space feeling like both a mile and a hairâs width. Both of you were illuminated softly in the darkness, quietly eating packaged tropical fruit.
Your voice surprised you, breaking the comfortable silence, âWhat does that mean?â
âHm?â The deep sound made your throat dry.
âLiebling.â You cringed at your poor imitation.
âOh, uh..â he was blushing, avoiding eye contact. Your pulse quickened slightly with anticipation. What had he called you? His voice quieted with embarrassment, âIt means âdarlingâ.â
Your heart swelled at his words. Darling. König had called you darling. You leaned back against the cabinet, shoulder blades pressing into plywood, legs parting slightly. You saw his eyes waver from his snack to your thighs. Splayed out before him. Tilting your head up at him, your lips stretched into a smile and you blurted, âYouâre cute.â
He flushed at your words, eyebrows raised slightly. âReally? No one calls me that.â His fingers toyed with the plastic in his hands.
You finished your fruit, and licked your fingers clean, eyes on his. âI think youâre very cute.â His vehement eye contact as you sucked your finger made you dizzy. It felt intimate, even a little dirty- cliche. A low budget porno.
Something urged you to keep going. Push further. Whether it was the heat, the late hour or clenching of your cunt you couldnât be sure, but you wanted more. You wanted to touch him. âCan I try?â You nodded towards the last piece of fruit in his fingers. Your pulse hammered. He looked at his hand, and back at you, as you dared him to give it to you, feed it to you. Your palms were glued to the counter, making no move to do it yourself.
He swallowed hoarsely. You suddenly realized he was shy. Although he was an intimidating presence -colossal in comparison- you made him nervous. Your muscles tensed in anticipation, your jaw opened for him. âYeah,â His voice was soft and raspy. He leaned forward, lips parted slightly, mirroring yours. Your abdomen tightened as he grabbed the counter in between your legs, as if to stabilize himself, still not courageous enough to grab you. You gazed up at him, wanton through damp lashes as his fingers entered your mouth, so gently. Afraid to be too rough, afraid to hurt you. Used to being a bull in a china shop-but you could take him. God you could take him.
His lids were heavy, pupils blown as he stared at your lips. You felt his breath hitch as your lips wrapped around his fingers, sucking gently. Sweet, rough, calloused. Hot and large. You felt high with fervour, something in you wanted to take him deeper, show him you could do it. But you held back, pulling away with a quiet pop. Lips wet with juice and spit.
He raised his fingers, brushing a lock of hair from your cheek gentle with veneration, before they found the back of your head, skimming, then intertwining, tugging. Need overtook his timid respect. Your scalp prickled as he gripped the back of your head pulling you towards him. Into him. Your lips parted as you looked up at his face, back arching as he tugged you into him, searing cunt pressing molten against the cold plastic countertop. He was looking down at you with furrowed brows, need etched into every feature. Hot breath fanned your cheeks.
âBitte.â Please. âDonât tease me.â A fervent murmur that made your stomach flop. He pulled you into him, dwarfing you, lips searing against yours, his mouth opening immediately, inviting you in, pleading for more. More of you. He tasted of peaches and blood as his lip re-split with his mindless movements. Sweet ambrosia collocating with metallic copper. Oxymoron of gentle and harsh. Sweet and bitter.
He was scorching in your arms, musk and sweat. Deep and heady. Months of built up need unwinding, finally. Hot lust satiated, slightly. His grip was white knuckled on the counter between your plush thighs. Itâs proximity taunting you, reminding you how badly you needed him there. How your fingers hadnât been enough for the past months, how you were too small. But he could do it. God he could. He could fill you up- stretch you out. You couldnât help gripping his wrist, inching your way towards him, squirming, letting out a warbled whimper as your wet cunt dragged against the counter. He groaned into your open mouth, fingertips tightening in your hair when he found your puffy cunt bare for him, clenching, wet and waiting for him.
You jolted as rough fingers brushed your clit, letting out a quiet, pathetic whine. âQuiet, leibling.â His calloused thumbs rubbed circles around the sensitive spot, making you squirm. He groaned as his fingers glided slowly down your sopping slit. His head swam- all for him? This was all for him? He could hardly wrap his mind around the thought. Heâd touched himself at night, shamefully, thinking about you-about this puffy little cunt just a few doors down. And here you were, spread and ready for him, wanting to take him. His cock flushed beneath his waistband, heavy and hot. Needy.
You cried out softly as he split you open on his finger, and he pulled you into his shoulder, your mouth agape at the feeling of being stuffed with him. His middle finger twice the size of your own, you squirmed as he sank, knuckle deep. He pushed another inside of you, and you spasmed around him, overwhelmed at the euphoric feeling of being stretched so easily. Gummy walls pulled him in deeper. Sweat prickled his forehead as he held back his need to feel you squeezing his pulsing cock, the want to spread you open, fill you up- see how far you could go. See if you really could take all he wanted to give. You let out an airy moan as he hit that spongey spot inside of you with his middle finger, thighs glued together in over stimulation, spine arching-
Suddenly, to your dismay, he pulled out, quickly stepping away from you. You blindly reached out for him as cold air hit you. Reeling with emptiness. Had you done something wrong? Then you heard it, a creak of stairs. Heavy footsteps.
He reached out and you jolted as he brushed your clit, tugging your threadbare shorts back over your gaping cunt. He leaned back against the counter, face composed as ever.
A figure emerged from the hallway. It was the Lieutenant. He was squinting in the darkness to make out your figures. Voice was rough against the silence, save for the buzzing refrigerator, âAh, grabbing a snack too?â You could do nothing but stare at König, unable to believe he had been knuckle deep inside you just moments before.ïżŒ
König nodded, face relaxed, lids heavy. He raised his hand and your sopping cunt clenched as you saw him place his fingers to his mouth, to taste you. As the Lieutenant watched. Vulgar. Lecherous. Your spit, slick, and peach juice swirling together in his hot mouth.
You flushed down to your fucking thighs at his words: âYes sir, just having a peach.â
CUDDLE TIME! Soo tired, poor babys couldn't even take their gear off completelyđŽđŽ
I tried another way of coloring, still not satisfied with the result but like it enough to publish it so i can keep doing more. I promise I'll improve.
I see what your tastes are... sorry but clothes are on this timeđ€Ł
~So sweet our boy keeping his food warm with the mask~
-hope you like this one <3 Took me so long and i just keep doing the same style I wanted to change haha :â) I want to do quantity and here i come doing pixel art with every single draw I beggin.Â
IMAGE EDITED (I felt like I just put a background and edit really quickly and it looked bad so i change it a little c: hope I make it better)
