creepy perverted roommate könig who always stares at you and makes offhanded dirty jokes that are just statements about what he wants to do to you.
rough grubby hands sniffing through your laundry and pawing at his bulge as he takes a deep breath from your underwear.
taking multiple "showers" a day just to relieve the ache on his swollen red cock, leaving him leaky and extra sensitive. cock too hard and heavy to even stand upright.
going out of his way to hold your waist when walking pass even though the hallway is big enough, and rubbing his hard on against the plump of your ass when he needs to get something from the cabinet as you’re washing dishes.
vs.
shy freak reader who’s equally as depraved.
stealing his shirts and boxers to sleep in and purposely wearing them in front of him, apologizing for the mix up then handing him his boxers stained with slick.
rubbing your hands against his chest and back when you sit beside him on the couch. grinding against him as you watch a movie together, your slick heat obviously showing how bare you are underneath the nightgown.
purposely eating popsicles on the living room couch as you watch tv, your tank top showing your pudgy belly as your shorts ride up. your cute underwear visible as you coyly lick at the popsicle.
watching him stare at you before ending up with your legs over his shoulders as he fucks you into the couch. wet sloppy kisses sharing the taste of the sweet popsicle as he pumps you full of cum.
It's never just your pussy that's sore the day after König fucks you. Yeah, his thick cock stretches you to your limit and then some, but it's also long enough to feel it your throat. So when your lower belly is achey and bruised-feeling the next morning, you think nothing of it. It's always tender from König's eager, vigorous love making--gentle or slow are nigh impossible with him, with how lost he gets in the tight grip of your cunt around him, and how he's always worried you'll change your mind about letting a beast of a man drill his oversized cock into you before he can come. (You won't, of course, but your sweet boy is always so anxious about it anyway). But when it only hurts worse the next day, despite König having given your body a much needed break (and lots of grateful apology kisses) you're a little worried. But you figure your period must be due soon, and curse God for giving women cramps, before moving on with your day.
(When you collapse at work and are rushed to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy, you think perhaps you should have been more concerned).
Coming out of anestesia to find a teary eyed, guilty König at your bedside, gripping your hand softly, you smack his shoulder hard enough to make him wince before starting to yell, still loopy enough that you sound far too funny to be at all intimidating.
"When I said you could rearrange my guts, I didn't mean literally!"
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.
Taking Konig is a struggle, he’s a massive man and you’re much smaller compared to him, so it takes him some prepping to be able to stick his entire cock in you, but sometimes (like nights like last night) he doesn’t have the self control and stuffs you full anyways. One thing about Konig is Konig can and will make it fit.
It leaves you the next morning with a deep aching pain in your abdomen, any sudden movement makes you wince. You figured that out on your own when you woke up before Konig and walked to the kitchen for a glass of water, only to make it half way, falling onto the couch, clutching a pillow to your chest, feeling a slight sting as you sit.
Konig can’t sleep without you so after a few minutes you hear the soft creek of his bedroom door, Konigs towering frame filled the doorway as he walked in, his eyes still heavy with sleep. His gaze softened when he saw you sitting there, curled up on the couch. Already having an idea of what might be going on.
You know he feels bad when he kneels down in front of you, one calloused hand resting gently on your thigh, the other lifting your face so your eyes create an invisible tunnel towards one another. His voice going soft “Mein Shatz” he speaks scanning your face “What’s wrong?”. Your response is to pout to your boyfriend, fiddling with his fingers that rest on your thigh, you state that your belly and “down there” hurts and that your worried, asking him him sweetly if he can just make sure everything is okay down there, after all he knows you best.
“Of course Liebe, i’ll take a look for you” He responds and easily but carefully props you onto your back with your knees bent. He drags your panties down your legs, and pushes your thighs open to get a better look he keeps them open for a second, not touching but looking, scanning the area, moving his head to see different angles. With two fingers he spreads your lips and inspects them for a moment & then gently lets them go, he takes the tip of his thumb and swipes down on your cunt, making contact with your sensitive sore clit, making your body jump at the contact. He swiped again and you watch how intensely his eyes focus on you, “Went too hard on you last night didn’t I?” he lets out as if he’s almost ashamed, he moves his thumb lower down to circle your hole gently massaging the sore area “poor maus” he said in a low voice, “looking so sore, does it hurt bad?” before you can respond, he dips just the tip of his large thumb in half way to test you and feel the ache, you wince and nod your head yes, his dark eyes still staring intensely between your legs “kleine fotze” he mumbles, taking his thumb back out. “Have to take it easy on your from now on okay?” he says meeting your innocent eyes with a slight frown on his face. He puts your panties back on for you, before placing a kiss to your head and lifting you, walking you back to bed with him.
little thought i had about mr. könig THAT CAN’T FLIRT.. i shall feed my babies with this. apologies if it sucks i haven’t written in so long
You met König on your second week at the training facility, when you were still trying to learn the layout and remember who’s who. Most people warn you about him immediately:
“Don’t stand too close, he gets jumpy.”
“He doesn’t talk much.”
“He’s… intense.”
So when you walk into the armory early one morning and see a massive figure crouched over a disassembled rifle, you almost back out quietly.
Almost.
Because he looks up at you. Startled, like a deer instead of a huge hunk of an operator, and his eyes flicker in a way that is unmistakably shy.
You offer a small wave. “Sorry. Didn’t know anyone was here.”
König stares a second too long, then jerks his head in something like a greeting. “It is… fine.”
You try to get your rifle out of your locker, but the latch is stuck. You tug once, twice. You mutter something you hope he doesn’t understand.
He understands.
“Nein, nein… stop,” he says suddenly, rising to his full intimidating height. He steps over, gently nudges you aside with two fingers on your shoulder, and inspects the lock.
“You pull wrong,” he says, as if this explains everything.
You blink. “Wrong?”
He nods earnestly. “Yes. You damage the hinge. Look.”
He taps it. You have no idea what you’re supposed to be looking at.
Before you can respond, he unjams it, fixes whatever problem he sees, and opens it with absurd ease.
He hands you your rifle. Doesn’t speak again.
You stand there, confused.
He walks away like nothing happened.
Over the next weeks, you notice a pattern.. or rather, you become the pattern.
He appears whenever something is going even mildly wrong with you.
Your bootlace snaps during a run?
He materializes out of thin air, kneels, and silently replaces the lace from his spare gear pouch.
“You tie too fast,” he mutters. “The knot becomes weak.”
You burn your tongue on hot soup?
He frowns, takes your spoon, and hands you a wooden one instead.
“Too hot for your tongue,” he says like you’re five years old.
You’re cleaning your rifle and miss a spot?
His shadow falls over the table.
“You forgot the carbon here.”
He swipes it clean with one controlled motion.
“Sloppy.”
You’d be offended if he didn’t sound so genuinely concerned every time.
It doesn’t exactly feel like criticism.. more like he’s trying to take care of you without admitting he’s trying to take care of you.
He watches you the way people watch things they don’t want to break.
And when he solves things his way, there’s always glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. Juuust a little.
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.
pathetic konig who is so obsessed with you that he just cant stop fucking you (in a chokehold, creampie AND overstimulation) ? 😛
this is delicious i hope i managed to deliver everything hehe ;)
content: SMUT MDNI, creampie, overstimulation, idk its just dirty lol
Boyfriend König who just loves you soooo much that he can't help but overstimulate you both when he fucks you :((
He's got you face down on the bed, his whole damn body weight pressing you into the mattress as he bullies his fat cock in and out of your cunt. There's a creamy ring around the base thanks to how many times you've both already come, the slick noises almost obscene.
"Schatz… you feel so good…" he slurs the words into your ear, completely drunk on the sex and on you. He shifts slightly, one hand sliding underneath you to angle your hips up, allowing him to fuck you deeper. His other arm loops around your neck, his meaty muscles almost choking you as he pulls your face out of the pillow you'd buried it in. König whimpers when your sweet noises fill the room again, his hips stuttering in their rhythm.
Somehow, you're on the edge of yet another orgasm, your body worked up into a goddamn frenzy. "König! Too much," you gasp, your body tensing up beneath him. He growls, feeling the way you clench even tighter around his sensitive dick, sucking him in. He's so addicted to you, so obsessed with the feeling of you. His thrusts speed up again, his hips hitting your ass with each punishing movement that pushes you closer and closer to your high. You finally come with a high pitched mewl, followed by a broken sob. Your body twitches, your cunt pulsing wildly, every nerve in your body overwhelmed.
The sensation makes König almost fucking blackout. You feel so good that he can't stop himself from fucking into you faster as he feels his own release nearing. "Ah, maus," he whines, biting at your neck as he lets go. His whole body shudders as he floods you with what seems like an endless supply of his seed, his cock twitching inside you until it's empty. You feel his body grow limp, crushing you beneath a solid wall of muscle. Even now, with both of you exhausted and overstimulated, his hips are still moving in slow grinds that have you whimpering beneath him.
Once his vision and mind clears somewhat, he pushes himself up and reluctantly pulls out with a hiss. His dick feels raw - it's been milked dry by you, by his insatiable need for you. König watches hungrily as a smear of your combined juices slides from your puffy, well used hole and drips down your thigh.
That sight alone is enough to make him want to go again, even if neither of your bodies can take it…
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.
