Kƶnig x fem!reader, dubcon, exhibitionism, public sex, freak4freak, noncon piss play, forced orgasm, cockwarming, llanguage barrier, love at first fuck, implied future stalking
This is for the server š thank you I love you
Kƶnig hates the subway.
He's too big for it- too tall, too broad, and every time he tries to sit on the little plastic seats his thighs splay out and take up both around him to make room for his cock. At least he's in the corner so he only has open space on one side.
Today he ignores the dirty looks as the subway car fills up- he's spent the last several hours tracking a lead through the city, his feet ache and he wants to finally sit down for a bit. The crush grows, people shuffling around, and at least the man on Kƶnig's open side doesn't do any more than grumble a little- he rolls over and promptly goes to sleep.
As the doors finally closed, the car rocking into movement, Kƶnig finds that his open thighs have caught a pretty little fish.
You're standing with one arm up on the handlebar, headphones on, eyes firmly fixed on the middle distance, but you're being pushed nearly into his lap. And you look so soft- big sweater hanging off your shoulders, the raised hem revealing a little pair of shorts, smooth clean flesh of your thighs on display. The zippered bag between your feet must be groceries, he thinks. Did you also have a long day? Or is this you waking up, running errands in the same clothes you slept in?
And even better- as the train moves along, he realizes you're perfectly at eye level to see every bounce and sway of your breasts, the delicate little jiggling when a bump comes up, nothing between them and his own eyes except the sweater. No bra today, lovely? He wishes it were colder, so he could see more of your nipples.
It's just what he needs after so much headache, a pretty girl who can't run away, and so Kƶnig indulges himself- long sweeps of his eyes from your pulse fluttering in your throat, across those lovely soft tits, down to where your shorts cling to the inside of your thighs- oh, you're trembling. He looks up, you still are looking past him, but there's a thin press to your mouth. Scared? Nervous? He thinks about locking his ankles behind you, dragging you into his lap, and his cock heats up, beginning to fill. When he adjusts it- there, yes, your eyes looking down for a moment and then snapping away.
Precious girl.
Kƶnig sighs softly, palms himself. There's nowhere for you to go- you're as trapped as he is, people at your back and on either side, everyone turned away with their noses in their phones. You get closer, even, as you cling to the handlebar and fight the sway of the train, your legs held apart to keep your bag safely between your feet. Kƶnig hooks an ankle behind yours, tugs just a little, and hears you gasp as your balance wobbles.
The seam of your crotch beckons him, those shorts riding up, and when you try and pull them down they simply refuse, springing back into place. Too much girl for such small clothes, the curves spilling out. It's nearly indecent how every movement just wedges them tighter- it is indecent, he realizes, because you're not just trying to fix your clothes and ignore the man staring at your body- your lips are parted and your pulse is thudding under your skin, your nipples have grown hard, pushing at the sweater.
This is-
This is turning you on, this pretend play at decency when really you're using your own little shorts to play with, making yourself hot and wet in this crowd of strangers. Teasing yourself even while he's sitting here, watching, and Kƶnig sees the way you swallow when he squeezes his cock properly, traces it down his thigh so you can see just how big it is.
Then abruptly the subway car jerks, hard, and as you tumble down and into his lap all the lights cut out.
Kƶnig doesn't waste an opportunity.
He grasps your hips, drags you down over his lap, and you're as soft and warm as he hoped. The shorts go right up, wedging high between your ass cheeks, and when he bounces you on his cock, drags your seam down the length of it, he feels the way you shudder, a hand coming up to his chest, digging your nails into him.
You speak, softly under the shouts of other people- and he can't understand you. Ah, Kƶnig is a foreigner here.
"Does little fish want my cock?" He asks, in German, and gets nothing back but a soft confused sound. Perfect. "Slutty cunt hanging out, waiting for me, I know, precious. I will help you," and he turns you to face away and lifts your sweater, stuffing a wad of fabric into your open mouth, and then grips the back of your shorts and pulls hard, a seam popping, the muffled squeal you make going right to his cock as your pussy is split by the shorts, pressure that he knows will grind your clit. You tremble in his grip, and do nothing to fix your sweater or push him away, because Kƶnig knows exactly what you want.
He lets go of your shorts to palm your tit instead, pinching at your nipple. Still no lights, only a dim glow from phone screens, and the little corner stays dark. You're huffing and moaning around your makeshift gag, and Kƶnig twists your nipple hard, so that your legs stiffen and go tight, back arching.
He drags you back into his lap. "Perfect, sexy girl," he moans into your ear. "You don't realize how perfect you are. I'm not letting you get away after this. Do you want a spring wedding? I cannot wait, I will make you mine sooner, but we can still have a ceremony." On his lap, thighs open between his, your hips are circling, seeking pressure. He squeezes your other breast even as he shoves his hand into your shorts. "I will fuck you before so that my cum soaks into your pretty white dress. Or make you pregnant first, eh? Belly fat and tits falling out of your gown?"
Your clit is a hot, slick little bud under his fingertips. Soaking wet pussy, throbbing, and Kƶnig feels his cock spurt a little when you clench on the finger he works inside. So so tight, so wet, taking what he gives you- still a stranger and you're so eager for it! Do you ride the subway every day hoping for someone to fuck you?
Kƶnig will be the last and only one, now.
More seams pop as he forces his hand down into your shorts. Too small for so much flesh, bouncing and squeezing on his finger, and he takes it out, flicking your clit, and then grips the shorts in both hands and tears, ripping them tight down the middle, snapped threads digging into your thighs.
You gasp, the sweater falling from your mouth, panting breathlessly. There's words there he doesn't care about, as he works to get his cock out. It's so dark he can't see, can only unbuckle his belt by feel, shoving his pants down so that it springs up and smacks your thigh. Your hands grip his chest again, tugging.
Oh- you want his jacket. "Oh, shy now love? Where was this when you were humping the air in front of my face?" He chuckles, and shucks off the jacket. It's more than big enough to drape over you, but he waits a moment to lift your thigh up, finds the dripping folds of your pussy by the heat coming off you. Incredible, perfect, he's going to keep you forever-
The lights come on as Kƶnig drops you onto his cock, spears you open, and in the same movement pulls the jacket over your body.
Your mouth opens silently, eyes huge, and he bites back his own moans as your pussy flutters around him. Flutters, what a soft word, when it's not soft at all- it's straining, screaming, the tight wet heat forced open by his cock, every inch packed inside and shoving your organs out of the way, the throbbing little mouth of your cervix sucking at his cockhead. Your thighs spasm, and Kƶnig draws you against his chest, a man with a pretty wife who is cuddling him in the train car, nothing unusual at all.
Under the jacket he shoves your sweater back up. Soft warm breasts heaving with your gasps, your eyes huge and blank where your face turns into his chest. He plays with a nipple, tugging at it, sighing in pleasure when you squeeze on his cock. Your hand comes up, finds his, and clings to him. His heart warms even as his cock aches.
"My perfect little wife. I can't fuck you here, so keep me warm. Milk my cock," he murmurs, and brushes a bit of hair from your forehead. "Yes. I love you, my sweetheart. Use that little cunt to make me cum." He bucks his hips just a little, so you have to swallow a moan, and then it's just perfect- playing with your nipples, twisting and pulling so that you clench onto him, holding you still with his arm around your body, pinning you in place. No wriggling or riding, not here, just a hot slick pussy to soak his cock, his balls, the little quivering pulses of it smearing your fluids onto his skin.
A little too much, maybe, because you're whispering desperately at him, gasping and shaking, and he realizes there's more wet in his lap than even the sluttiest, most well fucked pussy should have. Oh, he's so big, he's pushing on your bladder.
He smiles, touches your cheek, and sees the despair and the heat together- the desperate need to not release even when your pussy is spasming on him, when you're trying to come.
His hand falls down your chest, across your belly, and Kƶnig flicks your clit and kisses away a tear. "Go ahead, my darling," he croons. "Piss on my lap. You can't stop it now. Show your husband how that soft pussy feels when it's coming, go on," and there's that confusion again, a lack of understanding that makes his cock swell and jerk inside you. He touches your clit, flicks it, and then rubs just below, where a tiny hole is spasming, little sharp spurts of piss leaking out, a few drops at a time. Below that is the straining hole of your pussy, thin flesh taken to its limit on his cock. He can feel the way you're struggling even now, forced too wide, nothing left to hold back.
He flicks your clit again, then rubs back down to both holes, then another flick, over and over as your eyes glaze. You're shaking, the soft moans coming up, and Kƶnig leans down and kisses you, sucks all the noise out of you, as he gets a grip on your slick, slippery clit and pinches it with sharp jerking motions, up and down.
You're lucky he has his arm over you, or your thrashing would have dropped the jacket, then everyone on the car could have turned and seen it- your tits bared and heaving, nipples swollen, your open thighs and the way your pussy jerks and comes while split on his cock, the spurts of slick and piss soaking his fingers and his clothes. The way your eyes roll, mouth slack, as pleasure takes you. They'd see Kƶnig come, see the way you're already too full so there's slick white bubbles of it spurting past the base of his cock-
He groans into your mouth, and keeps rubbing and pulling your clit, using your clenching pussy to finish milking his balls empty. "My wife, fuck, so good," he pants against your cheek. "Oh, my darling girl. I love you," and you moan weakly, shuddering, as he finally lets go and holds you against his chest, just soft and warm now, keeping his cock inside as a few last trickles of your piss spill down his thighs. God, he's going to smell like you for hours.
The subway eases to a stop. Kƶnig keeps his arms over you as you start to wriggle, gasping as your pussy clenches on his cock. You're trying to stand up, to leave, holding his jacket to cover yourself- the mess of your pussy and thighs can't be saved just by your sweater. He tore your shorts, so as you shift up and off him, he sees the burst of frothy cum sticking to you, wet all the way to your knees.
"You're so lovely," he says, sincere, as you stumble and flush and avoid his eyes. Shy again? Already?
Kƶnig stuffs himself back into his pants, and smiles when you bob a little disbelieving wave at him, waving back, watching you stumble out of the car, bag hanging haphazardly off your elbow. His jacket swallows you whole.
You'll keep it, he thinks, you'll go home with your pussy leaking across it and maybe nuzzle into it. A reminder of what you think was the best hookup of your life, a random encounter you'll touch yourself to for the rest of your life.
Kƶnig, who keeps a tracker in the collar of the jacket he wears on missions, simply takes his phone out and pulls up the app. A little pin is blinking as the subway starts to fill again. He ignores new dirty looks, this time for his size and the piss on his clothes- he doesn't care. He has a wedding to plan.
[shout out to @konigs-lover who sent me this nsfw artwork which possessed me early this morning.]
Imagine Kƶnigās massive frame wedged tight under a crumbling broken section of wall, gear snagged, shoulders jammed at an awkward angle, lower body stuck helplessly on the other side of the wall, voice gone hoarse from shouting for help. Any second now, someone would find him. A teammate. A friendly. Anyone.
Fingers brushing his hips. Relief crashing through him. āJa- here! Iām stuck, pull me- ā
The hands didnāt pull tho. What they did was slid lower, hook into his waistband, and yank, pants and underwear dragging down in one rough motion, catching briefly on the thick muscle of his thighs before his cock sprang free into the cool air, heavy and already half hard from adrenaline an the awkward position.
āWhat- ?ā
A soft, warm palm wrapped around him, fingers stretching wide around the girth of his cock, stroking, thumb dragging slow over the flushed head and smearing the bead of precum that had already gathered.
Kƶnig jerki no hard, trying to twist away, but the wall held him fast as the hand continued squeezing, stroking again, almost curious.
Then came the press of thighs.
Soft. Delicate. Trembling faintly as they bracketed his own powerful legs, hand wrapping around his cock and the head nudging against a cunt before sinking down slow, tight heat splitting wider and wider around his cock. Every inch was a struggle. He could feel the way your walls fluttered and fought the intrusion, the burn, the way you had to rock and twist to take more of him.
His cock was too thick, too long, and your were forcing it anyway. The head popped past the tightest ring and you kept going, thighs trembling violently, soft gasps turning into bitten off whimpers as you sank lower, lower, until your ass was flush against him and he was buried to the hilt in scorching, clenching heat that felt like it was trying to strangle his cock.
Kƶnigās head cracked against the stone. A guttural, broken groan tore out of his chest.
āScheiĆe- youāre- hnnngh- too fucking tight- ā
You started moving, rolled tour hips in desperate, greedy circles, using his stuck body like a toy theyād found. Every drag of that impossibly tight cunt up his length made his vision white out. Every time you dropped back down, takin him all over again, the wet, filthy sound of it echoed in the narrow space.
Your thighs shook harder as you fucked themselves on him harder, faster, chasing something.
He couldnāt stop it.
Couldnāt thrust. Couldnāt pull out. Could only stand there, pinned and used, while some faceless stranger took what they wanted from his cock. His balls were drawn up tight, cock throbbing violently inside that squeezing heat, leaking steadily with every clench. He could feel you getting wetter, slicker, the mess dripping down his shaft and onto his thighs.
āHƶr auf- stop- Iāll- fuck- Iām gonna- ā
You didnāt stop, only rode him harder, cunt fluttering and spasming around the thick intrusion like you were getting off on how much it hurt, how much it shouldnāt fit. Kƶnigās growls turned ragged, voice cracking behind the wall. His hips jerked uselessly, trying to buck you off, trying to thrust deeper despite himself, and every failed movement only made the tight heat grip him harder.
He was close.
Humiliatingly, terrifyingly close- cock pulsing, thighs shaking, trapped and used and unable to do a single fucking thing about it.
first time writing konig, iāve got plans for himā¦big 6ā10 plans for himā¦. or at least several fics. anyway havent stopped thinking about this loser dude. i feel like i want to write more about this reader and konigā¦
youād think konig would be a terrible eater, youāve seen him eat food, he eats like an animal. this once you saw him eat forty one chicken wings in one go, horrifying, and he ate them, licking the sauce off his fingers with his stupid long tongue
he always stares at you with those lovesick eyes, bordering on obsession. holds his arm out for you, lets you nap on his shoulder, you arenāt even a soldier for KorTac, just a humble analyst that gets dragged along for missions. youāve always been hidden behind thick glasses and textbooks, and now this 6ā10 mammoth of a man stares at you like he sees you, and calls you his rose.Ā
you think heāll be a terrible eater, as heās kissing down your neck, down your stomach, reaching your wet pussy. and then he puts his big hand on your abdomen, holds you in place, and then laps. he laps like a cat that got the cream, laps like he means it. his tongue dips into your cunt like heās testing sweet nectar, and his stupidly long tongue has you seeing stars.
āliebchen, that was the nicest meal iāve ever had, ja?ā he says, after youāve cum twice on his face, coating his lips.
āj-ja, yes, whateverā fuck.ā you gasp out, fuck this guy and his 41 chicken wing eating ass who could make you cum so easily. oh wait, you already were.Ā
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