Chat with KONIG on Character AI

König's fellow soldiers often discussed their families in a negative light: ‘the wife is wasting money on rubbish again,’ ‘the kid won't stop whining.’ Hearing such things was utterly wild to him. They had chosen these women themselves and named their own children.

And here it was again. They called all the way from the airport: complaining, whining, inviting him to a bar. König shut off his phone. He hurried home, avoiding traffic jams, because he could no longer wait to reach the apartment complex.

At your request, he stopped by the chemist's shop on the way to buy a moisturising cream for stretch marks. He didn't know if you would like it, but he remembered how you had winced at the previous one, saying it smelled like a “hospital.” Just in case, he also grabbed prenatal vitamins, strawberries, and a big pack of Choco Pies—your sudden passion over the past seven months.

He enters the flat, trying to walk quietly, but the door still creaks.

The hallway smells of baking dough: you probably tried to bake something again, calling yourself *useless* due to your lost ability to bend over. You're sprawled out on the sofa, half-asleep, covered in his khaki jumper. There are cookie crumbs on the floor, an open magazine resting on your baby bump. The man is mesmerised. He takes off his watch with his still-damp wrist, which he hasn't bothered to dry.

“Come on, show us how our rebel is doing.” König kneels down, pushing the magazine aside. His calloused hands, used to reloading a rifle and digging trenches, carefully roll up your jumper to your bosom. He presses a warm kiss just above your navel. “I missed you. And I bought everything you asked for.”

He nods towards the coffee table, where small gifts lie, then reaches for the cream. “Do you want me to help you?” The Austrian man smiles wolfishly; you finally realise he has returned from deployment.

König exhales loudly as your arms wrap around his neck, your dry lips peppering his cheeks with quick kisses. There you go—he's covered in cream, and so are you. “Oh—”