#cod könig

[amaranthinespirit]

KINKTOBER 3RD — monsterfucking pyramid head!könig catching you in your nurse costume in an alley as you're on your way to a party. cw — monsterfucking, dub-con, breeding

you should've known better than to walk on the abandoned side of town. the side no one wandered anymore because of the rumors and stories of a monster so heinous, most people never stepped foot outside again.

but it's halloween night, and you're late for a party that you'd finally managed to get an invite for. scantily clad in a sexy nurse costume and your white heels, you took your chance despite the slim odds.

however, you'd come to regret that decision very soon, the second you step cross the threshold, actually. with a grimace, you plug your nose to rid yourself of the foul smell that lingers in the air, and you don't think it's just abandoned garbage.

no big deal, though. you can handle a bad smell as long as you make it to the party on time, and you have perfume in your purse that you can reapply if the stench sticks to your skin and clothes.

so you walk on in your tiny costume and tall heels, the click echoing off the alleyway walls you decided to duck down.

you had been in this part of town when you were younger, way before it had become what it is now. desolate, disgusting, and abandoned. it brought you bitter nostalgia to walk through the buildings again, but now wasn't the time to reminisce on old times.

because a sound from across the alley reaches your ears, bouncing off the brick that doesn't absorb the waves. it's a gross sound, one that sends sickness to your stomach as you listen to the squelching and slick.

you found the reason people don't make it out if here.

some odd hundred or so feet away, behind shadows and rusting dumpsters, you can spot a silhouette.

and it's massive.

your heart stops in your chest and your steps stutters. unfortunately, the clacking of your heels seems to draw its attention. the squelching comes to a stop, leaving the air bitter with an awkward, and somehow, loud silence.

könig was feasting on his latest prey when his attention was brought elsewhere. a sickly sweet scent that stuck out from the stench of the alley, his domain.

and he'd be lying if he said his cock didn't chub up at the thought of a pretty thing in his area to ravage.

your scared little face as his silhouette rose to his face send the blood rushing south under his butcher's smock. the harsh outline of the pyramid atop his skull making its slow turn towards you in a way so menacing, your feet are frozen. stuck, like you're in cement.

you're completely, utterly fucked. even if you managed to kick off your heels, no way could you outrun this behemoth of a monster in his territory that he surely knew like the back of his hand.

but like a foolish, little human, you tried. your exhausted breaths after running a few blocks down, and the soft clink with the metal of your purse didn't nothing to help you conceal your position.

after all, his massive, brutish silhouette appeared in front of you when you turned the corner. bumping into his firm chest, you stumbled backwards before he grabbed hold of you.

a pretty, little thing you. something he could use, and keep around.

könig was lonely, no doubt. no one ever came to visit, he had no one to cherish. at least in the way his monsterous self wants to.

debauched and filthy to the bone. he wanted to tear you into little pieces and satisfy his deepest cravings, his sweet tooth.

you struggled against his firm grasp, but with his size, it was completely and utterly useless. he could lift you with a single hand, without struggle, and haul you around like a little rag doll.

a mere toy to satisfy that burning ache between his thighs. it's not his fault your nurse dress is so short, and your legs so appetizing.

it's not his fault the material torn so easily, and your strength weak in comparison to his thick muscles, corded and strong. he barely felt a budge as you tried to fight him off.

silly little girl. he was going to have his gun with you.

now clad only in that white bra and lacy panties, a growl echoed past his lips, grunting at your squeak. the warmth of your skin only made his want worse, his craving.

he pushed his bloodstained smock aside, his thick, heavy cock red and hard. veined with infection of whatever plague he carried and unkempt.

a whimper fell from your lips at the sight, cheeks flushing with the thought of that fitting inside your tight cunt. you think you'd die trying, and that isn't your ideal way to go.

his heavy breaths echoed within his pyramid, his chest rising and falling as he stared and studied you in his big hands.

he seemed to be...examining until he brought you down towards his cock, lining up with your tight entrance. your fight had diminished, seemingly useless because you couldn't budge an inch from his firm grip.

könig wasn't concerned about you when he speared his cock into your pussy, nearly splitting you in half as he forced his way inside. down to the base, it burned and ached, and you could already feel the slick of blood begin to drip from between your thighs.

you cried out, and he wilted. he had that much of a consciousness to not like that sound, but his hips rocked forward, using your body as if it were merely a doll.

a purr rumbled in his chest, head thrown back as his ruts into your pussy speed up. god, you felt so good and warm, unlike anything he's ever indulged in.

your tiny hands grasped at his around your waist as he shoved you down on his throbbing cock, yearning to fill you full of his sticky seed. mark you with his scent and keep you like a pet. a good little human he can keep full, maybe even give a litter to.

his fingers dug into your skin at the thought, the sound of skin slapping speeding up as he builds a faster pace. he's close.

so close to what he wants, this craving that's almost satisfied as he pounds his cock into your cunt. whines mindlessly falling from his lips until he spills his seed, warmth coating your walls and dripping from your entrance.

too tired to move, too tired to protest as he drags you back to his den. you think it's over, now he's satisfied his base urges, he'll kill and devour you, ravage your body.

maybe that's what he'll do, eventually, but for now, he chooses to fuck your body until he's gotten his fill.

unfortunately, you're added as another statistic. another person to have gone missing when wandering into the wrong side of town, and you can't tell whether or not you're mad about it.

kinktober masterlist

[unseaworthy]

Wholesome!König who metamorphoses into the ultimate European Dad whenever you go to the beach.

Insists on picking you up at 7:15am sharp so you can arrive before all the good spots are taken? Check.

Pulling up his weather app at 15 minute intervals the whole ride there, updating you on wind speed, pollen count, and UV index? Check.

A chunky, waterproof watch on his wrist with three alarms set to ensure the day stays on schedule? Check.

Sunscreen applied to every conceivable inch of skin, with an extra thick glob on his nose? Check.

Swim trunks with tiny pineapples that you bought him after the first time he tried to wear a Speedo to the beach? Check.

But for all his foibles, the day you spend together is truly the highlight of your summer. Arriving early to set up your towels, chairs, and umbrella in the right spot was the best move; the generous application of sunscreen prevents you and your dreadfully fair-skinned boyfriend from becoming sunburnt; and to his credit, his regimented, Austrian work ethic does turn off once you're truly settled in your spot.

You alternate between sunbathing, walking up and down the shoreline, and cooling off in the ocean. You've never had a relationship this easy - anything you suggest, he's already halfway done making it happen. Plus, seeing his Baywatch body and muscular build on full display fills you with a mix of desire and smugness, like you know the other women on the beach wish they were you.

When lunch rolls around, König sweeps you out of the water and carries you to the towel "so your wet feet don't get sandy." You would be embarrassed if it didn't heal your inner sixth grader, who'd always dreamed of a man so chivalrous.

It is entirely unsurprising that he's packed an incredible picnic lunch, with kartoffelsalat and hearty roast beef sandwiches and those little packs of pretzel sticks kids used to trade in the cafeteria. He also withdraws a small pitcher from the lunch box and shyly explains that he tried to make mojitos, but he's certain they're terrible and, honestly, you don't actually need to drink it, he's got some water bottles under the icepacks...

When you finally wrap up your day, you're relaxed and sleepy and as happy as you've been in a long, long time. König insists that you remain lounging on your towel while he packs everything else into the car. You doze off on the ride home as your boyfriend smiles fondly and turns down the radio as not to wake you.

[Smut beneath the cut.]

He tries to drop you off at home, but you demand he come inside and at least shower off so he doesn't have to drive back to the barracks grimy with sweat, sunscreen, and sand. Of course he agrees - the man has never said no to you in his life, even before he finally had the courage to ask you out - and he turns eggplant-purple when you casually shuck your swimsuit to join him.

You're stupidly horny for him after seeing him half-naked all day, so you take your sweet time lathering your vanilla bodywash into his skin. He sighs beneath the steam of the shower and the ministrations of your hands, shoulders slumping like his joints and tendons finally realized he's no longer in a combat zone. Blissed out and half way to falling asleep on his feet.

But he wakes right the fuck up when your fingers creep lower and you begin to massage his cock.

König loves your handjobs. He says you're unbelievably good at them and he never needs to worry that his size is hurting you - a frequent insecurity of his when you first became intimate. While you languidly work his hardening member back and forth, you rest your head between his pecs as the water pours down on you both.

He makes the most pathetic little whimpers as your lazy tugs turn into proper pumping. One of his hands flies against the tiles to keep himself steady against the urge to turn into a puddle at your feet.

When you tell him its time to wash his hair, he seems perfectly willing to accept that the handjob is over without having come. But when you ask him to get on his knees so you can reach his head, he quickly picks up on what's actually happening: a perfect excuse to smush his face into your tits.

König may love your handjobs, but he worships breasts.

You squirt some shampoo onto his head and begin to spread it through his short hair while König attends to your chest. Sucking, rubbing his face, thumbing your nipples, and whispering breathless gratitude into your cleavage. It's not terribly long before he picks up where you left off, the wet noises of his hand sliding over his cock speaking to something primal in your cavewoman brain. "I'm so lucky," he says over and over again. "So fucking lucky."

It doesn't take long for him to empty his balls, splattering your legs as he leans so hard into your body you nearly topple. The shower quickly washes away the mess as he plants a final kiss beneath the swell of one breasts.

He quickly asks what you'd like in return - he's happy to lick your pussy for the rest of the night, or he could sit you on his lap and use his fingers - but all you really want right now is a nap. There's something so satisfying about pampering this man, who got dealt a shit hand in life but is somehow still the type to fumble his way through a homemade mojito recipe if he thinks it'll make you smile.

Neither of you bother to put clothes back on as you collapse into bed and wrap your bodies around each other. You think to yourself, not for the first time, what a wonderful father he would make. You can picture with ease König's big hands spreading sunscreen over a little boy who has his eyes and your hair.

A goal for next summer, maybe.

===

I dont usually do requests, but I would literally jump off a bridge for @the-californicationist ❤️💕🧡 Thanks for the prompt, Cali!!

[maliciouscottonball]

I've been thinking a lot about König and apathetic! reader who doesn't care what he does as long as you're fed good food.

He tries to hide it at first. He really does. He does his best to stay out of sight when he's following you home every day and he tries not to let you know that it's him that leaves food on your doorstep every day. He worries about you taking proper care of yourself so once he realizes that you like his cooking, he can't resist leaving you home cooked meals.

One afternoon, his oven breaks and he figures that he should be able to just use yours while he waits for his new one to be delivered. He loses track of time as he balances baking a Sachertorte and cooking up a pot of Käsespätzle. He's so focused on getting all of the details right that he doesn't hear you get home from work or you walking to the kitchen to see what the commotion is about.

"That smells good. I was gonna watch River Monsters if you wanna join when you're done." You say as you walk to your living room.

König nearly jumps out of his skin and then just stares at you as you sit down on your couch and turn on your TV. He quickly plates both your and his food and hurries to the living room with them.

"So... You don't care that I'm in your house...?" He asks softly as he hands you your plate.

"If someone wants to break in and do chores for me, I really couldn't care less. You can have a key if you're gonna cook for me all the time." You respond with a shrug as you take a bite.

König blinked. You were even more perfect than he thought.

[cod-indulgences]

Thinking about being double-teamed by Ghost and König. Ghost got you spread over his lap, chest pressed to yours, your face buried in against his throat while you cry from overstimulation as he keeps his cock warm in your pussy, König pounding at your ass.

He cups his hand around the back of König's neck, reminding him to be gentle, your little hole isn't used to being stretched out around a massive cock. He whines, nuzzling at your neck, against Ghost's mask, his frantic movements slowing into a deep grind.

Your belly is so full of cock you can feel your brain melting. Holes stretched and stuffed, pussy drooling, the lube from your ass smeared in fingerprints over your thighs and hips. Every time König bottoms out, his balls kissing Ghost's, you cry a little more, mouth slack.

Ghost cradles König's cheek, smiles at him, then catches at the dog tags he wears- his, yours, and Ghost's, the body-warm metal jingling. "Good boy. Go on, fill up that cute little hole," and König groans and shudders and pumps so much cum into your guts you feel it sloshing, thick and creamy.

Only when he's done does Ghost push you both down, your ass still plugged up with König's cock, and start fucking your pussy with heavy snaps of his hips, as you sob and clench around him, milking König's cock with every squeeze, so cock-drunk that you barely even notice yourself cum, a wash of heat and pleasure that just builds on everything else, pussy and clit throbbing as Ghost uses your hole for himself.

[milkywayhou]

Yes.. Normal

I saw this picture a few hours ago and can't stop myself from made a quick art of König

[goodzebra]

— KÖNIG’S PENPAL ･ ˖˚ ✩

✩ könig x gn reader

✩ how you became könig’s penpal and how he fell in love with you

✩ please like and reblog if you enjoyed! if this gets enough support, i’ll make it into a series!

✩ it all started when your therapist suggested ways to overcome your social anxiety

✩ you've always been terrified of social situations, constantly afraid of being judged and humiliated by others.

✩ you'd dread events for weeks, going through every scenario in your head where things could go wrong, turning every social event into a disaster before it had even begun.

✩ and when you're actually there? the disaster becomes true.

✩ you tremble and stutter through conversations while avoiding eye contact at all costs

✩ eventually, your nausea and your racing heartbeat becomes too much, and you escape to either run home or have a panic attack, whichever one comes first.

✩ even then, there's no salvation: you reflect on every moment, noting every single cringeworthy detail, creating your own punishment that was personally designed to render your self-esteem non-existent.

✩ it's so embarrassing…

✩ after months of isolating yourself, staying home instead of going outside and humiliating yourself again, you get online therapy sessions.

✩ the therapist suggests a way to start talking to people again: a penpal program organised by the army where you send a soldier a letter.

✩ she said the letters would be less stressful than in-person or online conversations since there was no pressure to respond immediately

✩ a soldier? seriously?!

✩ telling a soldier, who risks their life every day, that you get a panic attack talking to strangers?

✩ your dignity would crumble to dust!

✩ what you didn't know was that that there was an awkward austrian soldier who perfectly understood your struggles.

‘Hi,’

✩ no - too casual…

'Hello,’

✩ better. to whom it may concern? far too formal. just a simple 'hello' will do.

✩ you introduce yourself and write how you hope they're ok. actually, that's too friendly.

‘I hope this letter finds you well’

✩ that's good... what next? should you talk about yourself? what do you say? should you mention the social anxiety? no way - that's too personal for the first letter. you’re strangers, so just keep it surface level.

✩ you write about how you saw an advert for the penpal program and decided to join. a lie, but there's no need to tell the truth yet.

✩ you write that you appreciate the work that they do even though you don't fully know what it entails. that's true, at least.

✩ you think about what you could say about yourself.

✩ your life isn't exciting - you've spent months at home doomscrolling and watching tv.

✩ that's it! you could talk about what television shows and movies you like! wait, would they even have time to watch stuff?

✩ maybe on their time off! yes! plus, even if they don't, it gives you more to talk about! you’re a genius!

✩ you write about your viewing habits and get into a flow, giving your opinions and personal recommendations. you ask if they get to watch much, or if they prefer other hobbies, which smoothly transitions into a short paragraph about your own hobbies.

✩ it’s short since you can only do so much from your own home, but again, there's no need to mention that yet.

✩ alright, this is going great! now, how to sign it off?

‘I hope to hear from you soon,’

✩ sounds too eager... puts pressure on them to write back as well...

'There's no pressure to respond. I can imagine how busy your work can get, so it's ok if you don't have time to write back.

All the best,'

✩ you write your name and triumphantly slam your pen down on your desk with a grin big enough to be seen from space

✩ you read through your letter before carefully folding it and delicately sliding it into an envelope. you write the envelope, stick a postage stamp in the corner and send that bad boy!

✩ you’re on cloud nine for a while after that. however, after a month goes by with no reply, your anxiety rears its annoying, ugly head.

✩ what if your handwriting was too messy? what if they found you embarrassing? what if they laughed at your letter and threw it in the bin? what if they showed the letter to their army comrades and laughed at it together?

✩ why did your therapist suggest doing this? this is TORTURE!

✩ on the other side of the world, however, a supremely tall soldier curls himself onto his cramped army bed and reads your letter over and over with a smile that grows every time he reads it.

✩ he promptly opens up his notebook and flips to a blank page to start writing his reply:

'Hello,

My name is König...’

✩ i had to type all this out again bc tumblr ate the original post! :)

✩ i tried to give the reader more personality, i hope that comes through in the writing!

✩ again please like and reblog if you enjoyed! i really appreciate your support <3

[amaranthinespirit]

könig is determined to breed you (p!link)

his pace isn't nice, its straight mean as he pounds his thick, meaty cock into your drooling warmth, desperate to put a baby in your womb. he's not gentle about it either, mind racing and going dumb at the thought, hastily working to make it happen.

your tummy bulges with the way he sheathes his entire bulbous cock in your tight hole, spongy walls constricting around him, feeling every ridge and vein as you hug him tight. his angry, red tip punches against your cervix, ready to spurt his thick load into your sweet cunt.

he knows you'll let him, you'll let him do whatever he wants as he fucks you stupid, jackhammering deeper and deeper with relentless pace. the backs of your thighs reddening and your plush rear bouncing against his hips. his full balls slap against your clit, making you cry out into the bedding, saliva leaking from your lips.

above you, he moans incessantly, pussy-drunk and whipped as he mindlessly humps you, large, rough hands grabbing at your hips, so tight it might bruise.

he mumbles words you can't quite hear, feeling drooling saliva drip from his lips down onto your bare shoulder, running down your back. his jaw is slack, head tilted back and pupils blown.

it doesn't take long for him to fill you full of his seeds, spurting thick ropes of his white, creamy cum to fill your sweet pussy, coating your walls and leaving you full and satisfied. he pulls out to watch it drip out of you, calloused hands pulling your cheeks apart as he watches your slit leak with his release and drip onto the bed. he takes two thick fingers, smearing it across your folds before fucking it back inside you, hoping it takes.

[unseaworthy]

Wholesome!König who is completely infatuated with you, but is too shy to ask you out.

You work at a coffee shop near base that he frequents in the mornings. He so rarely encounters civilian women that even seeing you in your sexless uniform, your hat and apron with funky little buttons pinned along the straps, stirs butterflies in his stomach for the first time in years. His favorite part of your appearance is the stunning smile you wear when speaking with customers.

Not him, of course. He downloaded the app so he could order ahead and just pick up - that way, he didn't have to talk to anybody. Online ordering is how he takes care of most of his business. Sometimes, you catch his eye when he goes to the pickup counter and give him a little nod or wave of acknowledgement that send him into temporary cardiac arrest. He's relieved when he can get back to his car and read your little sharpie messages in peace.

In the app he'd put himself in as Col - a throwback to his rank the Austrian Army before he'd opted for the mercenary life. It felt tacky to use his callsign outside work and he was certainly not going to use his real name. So in gorgeous cursive you would write, "Col," and beneath it, various levels of silly, unhinged nonsense:

"For the motherland!"

"Prove your bullies wrong"

"It's only illegal if you get caught"

"Don't look behind you"

So liebenswert. You're quirky and cute and every now and then you wear these glasses (he can't tell if they're prescription or blue-light) that just make him melt. He's always had a thing for girls in glasses. Everything about you is too good for him.

He flirts with the idea of finally getting in line and asking you for dark roast face-to-face. Maybe you'd like his (stupid) accent. Maybe you would comment on his (inconvenient) height or flash him one of those (undeserved) smiles.

Late one night, past the hour when good ideas happen, he decides on an alternative. He orders a bouquet of flowers and writes nothing more than your name on the card. Many of your pins are purple, so he picks one with lavender. Hopefully it'll make you smile - maybe even make your cheeks heat with a blush. He won't be there to see it, but knowing that he's brightened your day the way you brighten his is enough.

What he's definitely not expecting to see is a sprig of lavender tucked behind your ear along with your cap. His eyes go so wide he thinks he'll give himself away. He somehow manages to grab his order and escape before you make eye contact.

You seem to like his gift, even if you don't know it's from him. Maybe he should send some more.

Next week it's chocolates. Then it's a teddy bear. The week after, he tries something a little outside the box. Since lots of your pins have various activist messages on them about the environment or women's rights, he pays to have some trees planted in your name and has the certificate delivered to the coffee shop. He sees it framed on the wall not long after.

König is perfectly happy with this whole arrangement. He gets to make you smile and maybe he's even sparked a little crush, without any of the anxiety the comes from a social interaction. It's one-sided and undeniably cowardly, sure, but he allows himself to fantasize that it might grow into something more. And fantasy is safe. It cannot disappoint.

But when he visits your place of business the following Monday, his heart sinks into his stomach.

Strung around your neck is a paper that says, "Are you my secret admirer? Come talk to me!!" in purple sharpie.

His immediate instinct is to flee. A conversation with you cannot possibly end well, and the very notion of seeing the sparkle in your eyes dim as he confesses is enough to make him forgo his breakfast drink.

But this is fucking ridiculous! He's KorTac's top heavy. He has a decorated military career with a confirmed kill count that's had him scouted by every PMC on the continent.

Ich kann mit einem süßen Mädchen reden, he tells himself resolutely. He snatches his order and stands in line.

When he reaches you, the look of shock on your face feels like a knife to the gut. But you quickly say, "Col! Oh my gosh, did I get something wrong with your order this morning?"

"No. It's perfect."

You light up like a Christmas tree, and oh shit, he has it bad.

"I'm glad. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Taking a deep breath, he carefully says, "I just wanted to talk to you before I left."

You look extremely puzzled as he begins to back away, so he gives a subtle nod towards your chest. Come talk to me. You follow his eyes and seem to understand his meaning - but he's already halfway out the door.

He's thrilled and terrified and he's absolutely going to vomit up this coffee if he drinks it, so he leaves it on his desk with your "Fight the power" message facing him all day. Ball's in your court, now. If you like what you see, you'll find some way to reciprocate - and if not, you can go on ignoring him and König won't push. He's just proud of himself for making a move.

When he goes in for coffee the next morning, your phone number is written in big bubble letters on his cup surrounded by purple hearts.

===

Thanks for reading! I have longfics for every CoD 141 boy + Konig on my masterlist, if you're interested 😅