30s-something virgin!König mistakes you for a prostitute when you start flirting with him one night at a club that Horangi and Krueger dragged him to. (The skimpy little outfit you have on adds to this misunderstanding--he's far from knowledgeable on trendy clubbing fashion).
He doesn't say anything until after the two of you have fucked, though, when he asks you how much he owes you for the best night of his life.
To say you're offended is an understatement.
Cue a flustered, awkward, newly deflowered König trying desperately to apologize to a furious you, all while trying to comprehend that a woman was genuinely interested in him for the first time--and quickly coming to an unshakable realization that he is not willing to let this once-in-a-lifetime girl go.
bull hybrid könig was told more than once to not touch a single soul out in the farm, knowing that it'll probably end with needing to tug him away by horns from some other hybrid he'll try to pump full of seed that sits heavy in his balls and making him ache, that was how bulls are, but the farmhand didn't knew the real extent of his true intentions, that his baby blue's weren't even tracking the cow hybrid ladies wandering around the sunny field.
no, könig was more curious in you, a sweet thing that was helping around the area, feeding the hybrids, making sure they were comfortable and clean, that they had everything they needed, stealing quiet moments beneath the tree's shadow when you had a couple hours to yourself, enjoying the light breeze or some book, well, until he started to join you, quite persistent, long tail swishing behind his bulky body, looming over you with sparkling eyes and twitching fluffy ears, tilting his masked head aside with an almost innocent plea — “can i join you, kleine?”
and there's no reason to refuse, really, even if he get's a little bit too needy by sitting close to you, burly body nudging against your smaller frame, wriggling, until he'd look at you with sweetly fluttering eyes and gaze down at your lap, a silent question, a subtle tug of his thick, calloused fingers against the sleeve of your shirt, so you sigh and nod, letting him lay his head down on your thighs, gazing up at you beneath the swoop of eyelashes, listening how you read out loud, as he nuzzles his masked face against your stomach, breath tingling, and you miss out how he crumples the fabric up his scarred features, leaving it stuck against the sharp horns.
it's only a coincidence that he'd have your thighs thrown over the broad stretch of his shoulders, dangling quivering and useless as he get's himself a small treat of your soppy cunt against his warm mouth, eager as he nudges deeper, nose pressing against the swollen bud of your clit, making your body twitch, squirming on the grass as he holds you pinned there, broad palms encompassing supple curves of your body, holding with a force that makes sinews move beneath skin, as he bobs his head, tongue lavishing at your slick dripping hole.
dragging him off you would be harder than any other bull, because he won't still the bruising pistoning of his hips until you'll gush around his fat cock, ushering him to spill his creamy, thick seed against the entrance of your sweet womb, trembling as your cunt holds him in a tight clamp, gummy walls spasming and milking the engorged girth until könig's heavy balls are empty, resting against the swell of your ass as his seed frothes out of your pussy and around his cock, still nestled deep inside as to keep you plugged, heaving and dazed as you look in his slyly squinted eyes.
𐔌 cw: freak for freak relationship, mild age gap and somnophilia, underwear stealing, size difference .ᐟ
your apartment looked exactly as it had for years, the only change being the thick layered dust gathering in the corners and settling over every surface, a consequence of neglect left untouched because you’d been drafted into könig’s bedroom for months. you hadn't been given the chance to shove even a single toe past his threshold, the giant simply refused to release his grip, keeping his thick, toned arms locked like iron bands around your delicate waist.
but after weeks of doing nothing but breaking his creaking mattress from sunrise to midnight, könig finally entertained the idea of letting you go back for your belongings. he figured there had to be something you were aching for, pretty wardrobe pieces, old keepsakes, makeup, or whatever little secrets a girl keeps to herself.
he volunteered to come along and haul the cardboard boxes, though he made the offer while pinning you completely helpless onto his burly lap. sitting wide legged, manspreading on the couch and forcing your thighs wide open to hook around his own. the grilled ribs and cold beer you’d just served him were left to cool on the coffee table, entirely forgotten because he’d gone drunk on the domestic, sweet view of you playing his perfect little housewife.
two nicked fingers pumping in and out your sloppy hole, loose despite that you've been fucked awake just this early dawn, and he crooks them just right, thrust in to the last knuckle, walls clenching and pulling as his fingertips massaged at the spongy bump nestled within.
“was thinking about helping you get your things, häschen” his breath scorched your nape, pressed into your skin alongside crooked nose and chapped lips. he licked and nipped at your warmed flesh until a sharp shiver forced your spine to arch sinuously, hips rolling instinctively with perky ass grinding into his stirred cock, which thickened heavily beneath worn joggers.
broken whimpers and breathless sobs hitched behind your teeth, stuttering until you were panting under your breath, head dangling down and eyes bleary with pleasure, you watched the shallow, rhythmic movement of his digits drawing in and out, the bulging bands of his tendons flexing with every stroke.
arousal stretching thin in glimmering strings as your drenched cunt squelched lewdly around his fingers, his calloused thumb finding your clit, already pulsing and twitching restlessly, rubbing in firm, relentless circles until you sobbed out a choked, close to be agreement “a—ah! p—please!”
the flat was too small for his massive shadow, and könig felt as though he could barely fit in. a fluffy carpet lined the entrance and the living room, every wall and shelf meticulously decorated. on the kitchen island sat a bouquet of withered flowers, the sight of those blossoms making him wonder with an ugly, spiking jealousy if they had been gifted by some secret admirer.
his broad palm tightened possessively over your hip in response, though his jaw lost its tense, rigid edge the moment you leaned up on your tiptoes, plump lips catching his weathered, bristly cheek in a kiss that smoothed out his scowl. there were photos scattered about too, kept in delicate frames, some captured at formal events, some at rowdy parties, others during your concluded college years.
he lingered to study each one, turning the frames restlessly in his massive hands while you went around the flat, gathering what you needed. following your retreating scent into the bedroom, he stepped in just as you knelt by the bed, folding clothes across your lap with the same neat, meticulous care you always showed at his place, ensuring no wrinkles would form.
könig watched you pack your shirts, pants, and those cute skirts he already starved to make you parade for him once you were back under his roof. he certainly wasn't against the underwear you began placing into the cardboard boxes, not at all, there were lacy, plain, and flower embroidered pieces, some so sheer he could see right through them.
they were devastatingly sexy garments, the view making his blood run hot and prompting to let out a petulant, slightly angry grunt “who did you buy these for, kleines häschen?” thick eyebrows scrunching together in troubled line. you looked up at him with gullible eyes, lower lip rolling out into the most adorable pout, your chin raised to project all the mock hurt you could muster.
reaching up, your hands cupped his prominent cheekbones, fingertips mapping the rough tracks of the scars lining his jaw, batting your eyelashes and gazing directly into his striking, baby blue irises. his massive head tilted under your touch, the coarse bristles tingling against your palm as he nuzzled affectionately into your skin, a lopsided, uneven smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“there wasn’t anyone worth showing these to” to him, you looked like a darling, helpless little prey rabbit, tooth purring so, his restraint snapping and hands reaching out, broad palms kneading your curvy ass, blunt nails digging firmly into the fat there.
jaw dropping slack when his lips smashed over yours, tongue sliding past teeth to claim your mouth immediately, sloppy and unrestrained, your fingers curled tightly around his bulky shoulder blades, digging deep into his shirt as your broken, smothered whimpers made his length thicken with a violent pulse against your thigh.
packing should have gone much quicker, especially with his help, carrying on every single bottle he found in your bathroom. he stood there looking utterly bewildered by the sheer volume of them, lotions, bubble baths, creams, and scrubs, and that was before he even realized the entire second shelf was just for your face, at which point he didn't understand a damn word.
you giggled, promising him that you would pamper him with an evening face mask once you were back home, to which he nodded with a boyish excitement, though he knew his rough mug was never going to match yours, and he didn't care to try, just wanting to keep his hands busy groping your skin anyway.
when you moved to the kitchen to collect your pots and pans, könig watched you with a thoroughly puzzled expression, leaning against the counter. his muscular arms were folded tight across his stocky chest, one eyebrow cocked upward, curious as to why the hell you could possibly need those when his own kitchen was already stocked, and you had already been cooking with them anyway.
“yours are ruined, everything burns on them” you explained plainly, holding up your skillet to show him the intact non stick coating, reminding the big soldier that his own cookware was covered in scratches and looked a hell of a lot cheaper than your spotless, rubber handled sets, so convinced, he nodded in agreement.
you were already babbling happily about what you wanted to cook for dinner this evening, reaching up into the cupboards to grab a collection of mugs and drinking glasses adorned with silly drawings and shapes, when his massive bulk swamped you from behind, pinning you down. prickly chin rubbing over your exposed neck, mouth pressing in to suck wet marks into the tender skin at the crook of your shoulder before his hot breath drifted right to your ear.
unsurprisingly, you get bend over the kitchen cabinet, hoisting your weight into his chest until your toes were left barely brushing against the cold floorboards beneath. gorged cock hammering in your drooling cunt, countertop digging into your tensing tummy, mouth agape with blabbered squeals and keens “h—hnh, k—könig, too much!”
puffy clit pulsing relentlessly, but he reaches with his fingerpads only when about to burst, slipping easily with the tacky wetness that oozes out, teasing the sensitive nub back and forth. you slump bonelessly, his muscular hips slamming against your juddering ass, scorched by the harsh impact.
throbbing tip jerking at your gooey insides with grinding, dragging thrusts, growls growing deeper “schh, take it wie das brave häschen, das du bist” veiny fingers knuckled tightly into your cotton shirt, bunching the material in his fists over the swaying curve of your breasts as his hands scrambled hungrily at them.
when könig was done, he hoisted you up to sit on the counter, your weight suspended as creamy globs of his release dripped from between your thighs, chapped lips finding your forehead. pressing down with soothing, gentle kisses, and he smiled softly against warm skin as your fingers tracked their way into his hair, curling through the thick strands until you finally felt steady enough to stand on your own.
he carried every single cardboard box out to the vehicle, never letting out so much as a grunt at how heavy they were, while you huddled contentedly into his side, eager for the ride back to his place, leaning back and preening like a coddled thing when he hauled you onto his lap in the car, showering your flushed cheeks with tender, lingering kisses.
somehow, a few pairs of panties had gone missing from the box containing your underwear, perhaps you had simply forgotten to pack them. yet, when those very same garments began to reappear beneath the pillow he slept on, the deep, ragged groans he let out in the dead of night, right before he would turn over to cradle your tits in his sleep, suddenly made perfect sense.
cw: afab reader x konig, size kink, doggy style, missionary, full nelson, konig is feral here, tummy bulging
HEADCANON: Konig is obsessed with his wife’s and his size difference. And sometimes he goes overboard with it
PAIRING: Konig x reader
something something, husband Konig absolutely obsessed with his smaller than life little wife -- all 5'0 to be exact to his 6'9 frame
Sometimes he still can't believe she's real.
Scheiße sometimes he just can't help but stare at her like she was a daydream. Something conjured out of sheer desperation and too many lonely years. Scared that if he blinked too long, she'll inevitable vanish in a puff of soft sweaters and sweet perfume.
And so verdammt klein (fucking small) that it drives him half-mad.
Sometimes he just watches her do the most mundane things -- brushing her hair, standing on her toes to reach coffee mugs, waddling across the kitchen in his oversized hoodie that swallows her whole after a particularly rough night with him -- and it hits him all over again like a freight train: that's mine.
His wife.
His tiny, soft-spoken, fire-hearted wife who hums when she cooks and curls up like a kitten when she sleeps. The same woman who threw a slipper at his head the first time he tried to pick her up like a princess and carry her to bed. The same woman who now was pressed face down, ass up, drool and pleasured sobs running down her cheeks as he thrusted his girthy shaft deeper into her cushiony and tiny pussy.
Fists tangled in the sheets. Breath hitching in quiet whines and whimpers as Konig drove his hips into hers in renewed and desperate fervor. Not caring if their mattress practically sunk in the center at this point at his merciless thrusting.
Her petite little hole dripping with her previous orgasms and arousal from when Konig buried his face in between her thighs -- coarse and warm mouth sucking on her engorged and swollen clit until she begged for him to stop making her cum. Twitching and quivering. Letting out a soft wanton sigh of relief as Konig finally pulled away.
And from when Konig took her from the front. Hands stretching the backs of her thighs until her legs met her head. Lips brushing her jaw as he whispered praises in broken German.
Absolutely enamored at the sight of his tiny little sweet wife in paralyzing pleasure. Mouth half-open. Lips red and puffy. Perky tits bouncing along as he continued the punishing roll of his hips. Groaning lowly at the feel of his big dick's tip try to punch farther into her womb. Entranced at the sight of his precious mouthy girl's little tummy bulging every time he pushed his cock into her small pussy.
Moaning and growling lowly as he pistoned mercislessly at the feel of her velvety walls cradling his penis like it was reluctant to set him free. So tight and so so perfect.
Konig was Trying. Really trying. Trying so fucking hard to be gentle. But when he had her like this. Impaled on his enormous cock. Whining and whimpering helplessly every time her cunt stretched to accommodate more of him. Konig can't help it.
Konig was done for.
So now here. Where Konig had to take her from behind. He just had to. One hand holding her neck down and the other gripping the doughy meat of her smooth hips. Bare chest heaving, hair mussed, and brows furrowed as he tried to rein it all in for her.
Room dimming since they started this afternoon and now into the night. The homey space awash in the low gold of their bedside lamp. Casting shadows over the sweat-slicked lines of his back and the trembling outline of her spine.
She was so small beneath him. So so small and so achingly soft and warm and his and and and--.
And she took him so well. So fucking well that Konig's hands can't help but change their position. Wanting her closer. Nearer. Deeper to the point that her womb would permanently be rearranged by his cock and his cock alone.
Moving her into careful precision -- never wanting to hurt his sweet little wife -- Konig pulled her arms back. Locking them securely against her body. Tender yet firm. Would rather brand his arm clean and cauterize it than ever hurt her.
Before she could even process what was happening, however, her wrists were pressed firmly against the back of her head, her arms trapped in a powerful grip. Konig's broad chest pressed into her back. Breath hot against her ear as he held her in the full nelson, the vulnerability of the position causing her breath to catch in her throat. Eyes rolling to the back of her head and unable to stifle the scream of absolute pleasure that coursed through her as his shaft was plunged deeper into her cervix.
The drowning and immobilizing feeling making them both gasp and groan lowly. Having to momentarily both pause to take it all in.
Konig's grip was unwavering, forcing her to remain pliable, utterly at his mercy. Legs spread wider and open near her head and astride his shoulders.
Her body now completely controlled by his strength -- every inch of her bound to his hold and speared by his girthy wieghty member. So overwhelmingly full.
But despite the pressure, the way he held her wasn’t entirely forceful. Nein nein. Konig always made sure there was a certain care to the way his hands rested, even if he made sure she couldn’t escape his grip.
"Mein Gott," he groaned, biting his lip to try and smother the soft hitch in his breath after starting a slow and tentative pace. Muttering a soft scheibe as he felt his manhood plunge deeper into her cushiony womb. “You were made for me, weren’t you, Liebling?”
"Oh m-my God! --nghhh--", She gasped -- choked on something between a sob and a whine -- and he stilled briefly. Murmuring soft apologies even as continued the fevered pace of his hips meeting hers. The room echoing nothing more than the soft plat-plat-plats and squelches of her gooey and wet hole meeting her hard and aching balls.
“You’re alright, mein schatz,” he whispered, mouth to her shoulder. “Doing so good for me. Just like always.”
His voice cracked with awe. With something dangerously close to worship. Because for all the filth he could whisper in the dark, at the end of it all, it came down to this -- her trembling in his arms, his name on her tongue, his cock propelling deeper into her like there was still so much space left for her to give him. Hole gaping and messy. Wet, crude, aching, and her heartbeat under his hand.
His wife.
His everything.
"Pretty like this. So -- scheibe -- p-pretty. So stuffed full of me"
konig paid for your nail appointment as a repayment you gave him a handy <3
You could just imagine how pretty your new nails would look on konig’s pale cock, The paleness of his cock compared to the deep-shade of red of your nails (its burgundy) with his pretty pink tip crying out for mercy for release.
His massive girth that you could not just wrap your hand around it. No lubricant is needed with how much he’s leaking in your hands, drowning his cock and your newly manicured nails.
Stroking him slow and torturous because thats how he likes it, deep strokes while you rub his pretty tip <3
He looked good like this, whiny just from your touch alone from being deprived of your touch after hours of separation. He’s one sensitive guy, you’re amused he’s lasting this long compared to other times you gave him a handy.
His tip of his ears burning red from the adrenaline, while he watches you stroke him, a pretty girl like you talking him through it. How much you appreciated what he did today, how big he is, how—
You weren’t surprised when he suddenly came, buckets of cum down your new manicured nails <3
Whimpering your name on his mouth, bucking his hips into your hands to feel more friction and that sensation, riding his climax. Overstimulating his huge cock to the point of cumming blood red like your nails.
Closing his teary baby blues, as he hopes and prays that next time you ride him instead (he’s atheist)
Anon…. heck yeah. 100%. Chapped and broken lips all day every day, this man chews on them and licks them whenever he’s uncomfortable ‼️
I think I did something a while ago where I tried to draw expressions matching his more aggressive voice lines, etc, but something like this:
@unseaworthy ….i dunno how to break this to you, how I draw him is how I imagine him as a 39-42 y/o 😭. His in game model is super baby-faced so I draw him … somewhat young-looking and baby-faced as well. But here’s a vague age map that I drew for him:
At times I guess I draw him looking a bit more youthful but I do generally draw him as how I imagine him to be in his forties
Around 36 for Horangi and somewhere between 39-42 for König. As for their huge rank gap, it’s bc König went straight to the military at the age of 17 but Horangi went to uni first, got into gambling, got kicked out, then joined the military as an older bloke
@little-shit-with-zero-control the fanon consensus is is that he got into a nasty tiff with loan sharks… and I subscribe the same fanon canon 🤣
he coos low in your ear, lips coming back down to pepper soft kisses along your jawline in an attempt to satiate your growing need, hips rocking and grinding against your own.
the sound of your whimpers, the taste of you, it made his skin crawl. in a good way.
a good way.
god, he loves you like this. so vulnerable and expressive, so soft and willing.
fingers dance across your soft skin, goosebumps trailing in their wake, feeling the shivers that wrack through you as you peer up at him, eyes teary and half lidded.
könig has grown used to the plethora of responsibilities he’s forced to upkeep. chores that he could care little about that comes with his high rank, but this?
god. how could this possibly be a responsibility?
this was a gift.
“poor thing. you don’t even know what i’m saying, do you?” he teases, another gentle thrust of his hips causing your head to fall back, a choked sob ripping past your lips.
he’s panting softly, steely eyes taking in your every expression, committing each and every minute detail to memory.
no matter how many times he’s seen you like this, he’s always left starstruck, breathless at the beauty beneath him, so vulnerable and messy. so perfect.
your hands grip at the scarred skin of his back, blunt nails creating more indents along the rough and marred surface - barely registering the sting of your clawing. he’s too fixated on the feeling of you wrapped around him so perfectly, the way you huff his name and cry out against his chest.
“you’re doing so good, mäuschen. so good for me,” he groans out, voice strained from exertion, from how good you make him feel.
his head falls to rest between the juncture of your neck and shoulder, hot, heavy puffs of air hitting the skin of your throat.
it’s hard to tell which of you is truly the one being ruined.
“just a little more, a little more, liebling,” he pants out rapidly, relishing in the way you squirm and cry.
what a terrible lie.
he’s soft. loving and gentle with you as he continues to rhythmically piston his hips in to you, so attentive to your needs.
but könig is a greedy man.
he’ll continue to to rut against you, desperate pleas swallowed by chapped lips against your own, silencing you for just a moment longer, buying time.
König is a big man, and with a big man comes a big appetite. We’re talking about a 6’10 man constantly maintaining his peak physique. He needs to be consuming as many calories and as much protein, carbs, fats, fiber and more to keep himself in fit and fighting shape.
At the canteen, he’s a nightmare. I bet that people rush to the cafeteria just to make sure they get something to eat before the big man on base rolls up. He’ll clear out the bins if he gets a chance. There’s a rumour on base that the reason König fought so hard to climb the ranks so quickly was just to be able to eat more and get away with it. Little do they know that they’re absolutely right, but König will never say that out loud. Ever. There’s some secrets you take to your grave.
Either way, König is a menace in the canteen. He’ll pile his plate as high as he can when he gets a chance. He’s packing away all he can get in the shortest amount of time he can, and everyone has to suffer for it. The worst part is that everyone has to rush to get to the caf before König, and König knows exactly what others are doing, so he’s in a daily race against the entire base to eat his fill. It’s always a photo-finish to see who gets to the cafeteria first. König currently has been slacking, so he’s not been eating like he normally has. Is he mad? Not really. He’ll clean out the snack cart later.
He’s a monster late at night. Everyone knows that you need to leave the big man to his snacks, lest you face the wrath of the colossus on base. Well, wrath in a peculiar way. He just gets quiet and angry, but it’s still not a fun experience to try and fight him for a sandwich. If you take the last egg salad sandwich you’ll be at the top of his shit list for the next week. Don’t even think he won’t track you down. He’ll throw around his rank just to get his hands on the poor bastard. Nobody is safe, either.
Stiletto only once took the last pudding cup. Once. She never made that mistake again. For a week he was giving her dirty looks over a cold shoulder as he bumbled down the hall. She eventually had to give in and sacrifice a desert to be able to get back in his good graces. She still thinks he’s a massive bitch because of it. And you know what? She’s right. Everybody knows she’s right, König included, but he’ll keep going after whoever ‘steals’ ‘his’ snacks. They get along a bit better now that they’ve both advanced in rank and worked together, but there was a good period of time where Stiletto had to sleep with one eye open.
It gets a bit better for everyone when König finally finds a partner and doesn’t stay on base so often. Everyone takes a moment to pray for the poor soul who has to cook for König whenever he gets home from deployment.
See, during deployment, König can’t be such a massive bitch about food. He gets his rations, and that’s that. He can’t steal from anybody else, so he gets stuck with these pitiful MREs that barely fill him up. It’s miserable, and he’s losing weight like crazy when on the field. He’s running on fumes and burning calories like crazy as he’s risking his life out there. It’s gotten to a point where König has taken to eating with hostages post-rescue to ‘help them feel safer’ (read: get more food into his gullet). Thankfully, he puts his best foot forward when dealing with victims of trauma and ensures that he has somebody else do all the socializing while he plays with the kids after dinner. Apparently, after the inevitable shower of tears whenever kids have to face König, he becomes pretty popular. They love to use him as a jungle gym (and make fun of him) and he’s just happy to get more to eat. He’ll take being called ‘bigger than even my dad!’, being told ‘you’re weird’ or being asked ‘why are you so big and scary all the time?’ any day for a little extra to eat. He can tolerate a few kids. He won’t ever admit that hanging around them makes him want some kids of his own, or at least not to Horangi, who’s already teasing König about being a surrogate father to the kids. König tells him to keep it to himself, but Horangi is already buying things for the baby shower.
Once König finally comes home, that’s when all Hell breaks loose. This man has been starving and he needs food NOW. He won’t take no for an answer. If you don’t have something prepared, he’ll be ordering a massive order of takeout the likes of which you’ve never seen before in your life. He’ll hit multiple places on his way back to your place if he doesn’t think you’ve been able to get something together for him. If you can’t cook, he won’t even bother telling you to cook for him and just focus on getting a whole banquet of junk food ready for when he arrives home. He brings the pizzas in the door before he even brings in his own bags. You’ll have to go out and grab his bag as he sets up his personal buffet table. The worst part is despite how much he can shove down, he always buys more than he can eat, so you’ve got a couple of days worth of food to shove in the fridge at the end of the night.
If you can cook, this is a multi-day experience. Is it rewarding? Absolutely. Is it painful? Abso-fucking-lutely. He’s got you slaving for hours a day just to get him a nice home cooked meal. You’ll be going all out to get him a big enough meal. We’re thinking a tray of mac and cheese, a whole roast chicken, easily a handful of loaded baked potatoes. If you have something from your traditional cuisine, he’s not picky, he’ll gobble it up in a heartbeat. Knowing you made it for him is more than enough for him. Food is the way to a man’s heart, some say, and König will never let you go if you treat him like the king he is.
The good thing about cooking König such a big meal is that he gives back. He’s not a fan of cooking, but for the next few days he’ll take over cooking and cleaning in the kitchen. It’s just an easy way for him to give back, you know? He can’t thank you enough with words, so why not with actions?
But the best part of König giving back is that he’s an excellent cook. He cooks mostly traditional food from his culture, but he’s down for some french or italian cooking if you’re into it. He can make a mean lasagne. He does not skimp on the cheese, this man. No he’s a cheese fiend. If you’re lactose intolerant, you’ve got another thing coming for you. He will hand feed you lactaid just for the meal. If you have a dietary restriction, he’ll learn how to cook your types of meals in abundance. He’s perfect that way. Vegetarian, vegan, keto, no matter what, he’s got your back. He’s learned how to make an excellent spread for a dinner party, and part of learning to cater to others is to work around other people’s diets; his mother drilled that rule into his little head as a kid. He does it without complaint, too. For at least a week after coming home, he’s just so happy to be around food in abundance again. He’s absolutely thriving in the kitchen before the thrill wears off and he’s back to avoiding cooking like the plague again.
He loves to eat, but usually hates to cook. He’ll mostly eat takeout until he actually has to eat a nutritious meal again for a change. It’s not that cooking is awful, it’s just that he hates doing the dishes. He’d be far more inclined if he didn’t have to do the dishes afterwards. If you take over dishes, he’ll definitely step up his game for the both of you.
All in all, König loves to eat. He’s a big man with a bigger appetite, as hard as that is to believe. Once he retires he has to learn to cut back a fair bit, but he never loses his taste for sweets and snacks. It’s just something you’ll have to learn to live with.
