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.
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You had been terrified your entire pregnancy. Not of being a mother. Not of König. No— you were terrified of the size of the baby.
Because your husband was a mountain of a man.
Nearly seven feet tall, broad enough to block the entire doorway, hands so huge they made coffee mugs look childish. König looked like the kind of man built to father massive babies with bowling-ball heads and shoulders wide enough to ruin your life on delivery day.
The closer you got to your due date, the more emotional you became about it.
“König..” you whispered one night, staring at his chest while he held you against him, “what if your baby comes out built like a full-grown toddler?”
He nearly choked trying not to laugh.
“Our baby is not coming out with a beard, Schatz.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It is a little funny.”
You’d smacked his chest weakly while he kissed your forehead, though the poor man did try comforting you afterward. He promised he’d stay beside you the whole time, promised your body was made for this, promised doctors existed for a reason.
Still, you expected pain.
Expected terror.
Expected to hear nurses gasp in horror at the giant infant you’d somehow created with this massive Austrian soldier.
Instead—
Your baby arrived…..tiny.
Absolutely, unbelievably tiny.
A little thing wrapped in hospital blankets, blinking up at the world with huge blue shiny eyes and the faintest dusting of strawberry-blonde hair across their soft head.
The nurse placed the baby into König’s arms and the sight almost made you cry harder than labor itself.
Because König looked gigantic.
His enormous scarred hands cradled the baby so carefully, so delicately, like he was terrified even breathing too hard would hurt it. His shoulders shook beneath quiet laughter, stunned and disbelieving.
“So small..” he whispered.
Your baby’s hand curled around one of his fingers— and couldn’t even hold all of it. König stared like his heart had been ripped straight from his chest. Meanwhile you were still emotional for an entirely different reason.
“That’s it?” you croaked from the hospital bed. “That’s what I was scared of?!”
König outright laughed then, deep and breathless behind his mask before he leaned down to kiss your forehead repeatedly.
“You were very brave for surviving our terrifyingly tiny child.”
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.
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.
been thinking about nerdy gamer bf!konig a lot lately :p
konig’s arms are wrapped around you, his big hands guiding yours over the controller as he explains the game. something about headshots and reload times, but you’re not listening.
not when his beefy biceps are flexing against your sides, trapping you against his chest, not when his deep voice rumbles right against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
you shift in his lap, trying to get comfortable, but the second you wiggle your hips, you feel it—the thick, unmistakable press of his cock hardening beneath you. your breath hitches, and konig goes still.
“fuck,” he warns, voice low and rough. “stop moving.”
but you don’t. you can’t. you roll your hips again, just to feel him twitch under you, and his grip on the controller tightens.
“you’re not paying attention,” he growls, but his hands are sliding down your thighs now, squeezing. “this is what you want? to distract me?”
you whimper, pressing back against him and konig curses under his breath before tossing the controller aside. his arms cage you in completely, one hand fisting in your hair to tilt your head back as his lips crash against yours.
“fine,” he murmurs against your mouth. “let’s play a different game.”
his hands are everywhere at once. his palms spanning your waist, fingers digging into your hips as he grinds you down onto his cock. "so small," he growls, nipping at your throat. "gonna ruin you, little one. gonna stretch you out so good."
you whine, arching into him and he chuckles darkly. "you feel that? how hard you make me?" he rolls his hips up, the thick length of him pressing insistently against your core, and you shudder. "think you can take it? think this pretty little cunt can handle me?"
his grip tightens, lifting you just enough to tease the head of his cock against your soaked panties. "fuck, look at you," he rasps. "dripping for me already. begging for it."
you gasp as he tears the flimsy fabric aside, his fingers spreading you open. "gonna fill you up," he promises, voice rough with want. "gonna pump you so full you’ll feel me for days."
his tip catches on your entrance and you both groan as he starts to push in. "that’s it," he coos, one hand sliding up to palm your chest possessively. "take it. take every inch like a good girl."
you’re trembling, overwhelmed, but konig doesn’t stop. not until he’s bottomed out, not until you’re whimpering around him. "fuck, fuck," he hisses, hips jerking. "so tight. like you were made for me."
his free hand drifts down, pressing against your lower stomach. "can you feel me here, hmm? so deep." he thrusts sharply and you squeak. "gonna put a baby in you. gonna breed you until you can’t forget who you belong to."
you shatter, clenching around him as he groans, his own release hot and thick inside you.
"good girl," he murmurs, nuzzling your neck as you both come down.
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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.
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.
Imagine comforting Konig when he gets sad about his difficulties dating, and then you end up with him trying to get his head between your legs.
Omg this is so him. Cuz the thing about König is that he does have shame--a lot of it in fact--but he's simply too desperate and pathetic to let that shame stop him.
warnings: dubcon, maybe noncon? reader likes it and there's no violence, but pretty vehemently protests. oral, F!Reader receiving
-
You're sitting on König's couch for the third time this week as he lays with his head in your lap, tears streaming down his face as he sobs about being ghosted by another girl. You've made a game out of keeping track of how many girls ghost him in any given week, and so far, you're up to seven.
It's Tuesday.
"Maybe if you actually focused on one girl rather than playing the field like some fuck boy, they'd stick around," you answer thoughtlessly, not even pausing your petting of his long, red hair.
König's blubbering cuts off, and he looks up at you with wide, guileless blue eyes, like you've just offered him the solution to all his problems--and like the thought has genuinely never occurred to him before.
"Schatzi! You are genius!" He exclaims. You blink, confused at the sudden 180--only to let out a startled, aroused, mortified squeak when König lifts his head, raises your skirt, lays his head back down on your thighs, lets your skirt fall back down, and starts mouthing at your panty-clad pussy.
"König!" You yelp, smacking his head to try and get him out from under your skirt. But he just moans and sticks his tongue out, like he's trying to fuck you with it through the fabric. You squeal, shoving at his shoulders, but he doesn't move, just uses his massive paws to pry your thighs apart. Only then does he slide off the couch, getting to his knees in front of you and hooking your legs over both of his broad shoulders. He doesn't emerge from under your skirt for even a second.
"I will give you all my attention, liebe," he declares, and you can imagine the starry-eyed look he's wearing just from his tone of voice. One of his thick, long fingers brushes against your slit as he pulls your panties aside, making you jolt. "Then you will never want to leave me, ja?"
Before you can answer, König plunges his tongue into you, big nose bumping against your clit and making you see stars.
