König

König was furious. Almost.

You had been prancing around his office the entire morning with your breasts on display like some sort of entertainment girl. He couldn’t even call whatever you were wearing a shirt it was practically a piece of fabric with a hole cut out of it right on your cleavage.

He wasn’t necessarily complaining, but really, you could’ve just apologized to him when you brought him coffee this morning instead of trying to make him forgive for his cock’s sake.

It wasn’t hard, unlike him, to see through your little game. "Schatz," König called, watching you sift through reports on a long table. He places his hands on either side of you, forcing your hips to press into the shiny glass, a small surprised sound leaving your lips.

"If you’re trying to seduce me into forgiving you, it’s not working,” He grumbled into your ear, eyes narrow and stern when you turn your head to him. "I am not a teenage boy. You’re going to have to do more than flaunt your tits at me."