#cod konig

[shounengirlart]

mein Schatz ~

+ alt ver

[writingoddess1125]

To the Frontlines

Kofi Request - Possible pt. 2 if they want to continue

If you want NSFW (5$) or SFW (2$) like this click here helps me be less of a broke bitch

Alpha König x Omega GNReader

Also Not doing the Medic thing! We can do better then that people!

Your scent used is based off this perfume! (Psss It's the stuff Rihanna wears ;3 I'll always hook ya up with a dupe too! Here)

Slow, Funny and Sweet Baby! No Warnings

It was the sound of the wonderful 4:30 am wakeup call that forced your eyes open, once more while it was dark out and everyone felt groggy.

Rolling up quickly from your bunk you saw the wave of the other few omegas in the space also get up- as they shuffle quickly to get to the showers and dress for the day.

It was fortunate at least that the Omega sectioned off barracks had its own spaces and there wasn't a lot of you so there was room for you all to at least separate out some, allowing some who needed it to nest or just to create general spacing.

Even if you had to fight over the 9 or so other irritated omegas you had the pleasure of sharing the space with to the showers- Always the unpleasant mix of scents washing over the washroom that made it smell like a candle from hell.

You quick to jump into the showers, hoping to catch the little hot water left and dress even faster. The assault of scents however soon started to disappear by the scent neutralizing patches all Omegas were required to wear being slapped onto everyone.

Sure it was encouraged for all those who had a secondary gender to wear scent patches to make sure grounds were neutral and no adverse effects. However in truth it was mainly enforced on the Omegas, not bothering to enforce it on the other half cause- Well fuck you I guess.

Slapping on the patches for the day you can't help but sigh, feeling already the uncomfortable chaff of the adhesive-

Was it fair?

No-

Where you going to challenge it?

Hell No-

They paid you and told you to scram to do your job.. And well they paid very well so you had no problem with taking this L.

You feel a tap to your shoulder as you button up your coat turning to see your bunk buddy and the closest person here on base looking at you.

Aaron was a stocky rather tall fellow, Pretty however- dark curly hair, pretty hazel eyes and dark brown skin. Most would assume a beta however they would be wrong by the damn near assault of roses, coffee and sugar when he took of those patches. He giving you a sarcastic smile as he held out the second paper cup shaking it playfully.

"Here are your suppressants sexy-"

"Oh thank you bestie, What did you spit in it?"

"Only a little-" He winked, The two of you smile and laugh a little taking the issued suppressants as you toss both your little cups in the trash. These where some of the few fun moments you got in your job here at KorTac, Breakfast which was always a bit more special since your bestie was behind the counter and the few moments before you are stationed in the big steel weapons box you call your job.

You'd never see combat, but as one of the weapon technicians you did the work for those who did. Which was as boring as it sounded- even with the charmer that was your sergeant always liking to talk down to you and most people in the little hellhole you all shared.

As if on cue a box of weapons where set down Infront of you, Still reeking of rotting blood. Looking up at your sergeant getting the morning scowl you were so used to at this point.

"Box for the day-"

"Thank you Sgt. Vega.."

You can only mumble as you start to pull out each item, mindful of the aftermath of whatever battle they had seen. Oh if those checks didn't have quite a few zeros behind them you were sure you'd have walked out of here by now...

Cleaning each blade, taking apart each pistol as you cleaned, put it all back together then tweaked it to work perfectly. Then chucking it into a bag or box depending on who it was getting sent to.

Day in and day out, Shuffling through the stacks of deadly metal. As the next box was set down Infront of you, already seeing the large rifle sticking out clearly ignoring any sort of gun safety and just ready to meet you-

"Is that a gun or just happy to see me hm?"

Dryly smiling to your own lackluster little joke, Quick to work you start to take apart the rifle- It only taking a soft roll in your palm as you recognize it immediately as 'That One'

Glancing next to your station leaned against you confirmed- bloody sledgehammer. There was always one bag of weapons that was always assigned to you. Seemingly whoever it was being picky and preferring one set of hands on their things..

You didn't have a clue who they were- however the fact that there was a sledgehammer included with the weapons made you not willing or wanting to find out...

But honestly this bag wasn't all bad really- Actually one of your favorites.

Especially since you got at least small moments of catching a fairly nice scent of what seemed to be and alpha on it. It was faint of course, Under the oil, the smell of blood and bullets. A nice spicy, fruit and booze smell- with a bit of vanilla. It reminded you of the nice festive alcohol you'd find in a store around the holidays.

However it was always short lived, especially since you had to clean it. Sad but as is life-

Whistling a bit to yourself you go through the bag, taking the extra time to get everything a bit more organized then what you'd so for the extra bags you had.

As you're finishing up the rifle you heart Sgt, Vega scream out to you.

"(Y/N)! I need that bag ready!"

"But, I just got it!-" You're cut off quickly by her shrill voice.

"Now!-"

"Son of a- Sorry I'm coming! God damn-"

You're fast to finish up your task cursing under your breath, checking the sight and making sure every screw and fastening was perfect. Looking it over quickly you jump up, feeling the snag on your wrist on the rifle, however quick to rush to the metal window of the armory where your boss is.

"Got it"

You mumble, Handing off the bag and hammer to your sergeant the women glaring at you for daring to make her wait as she walked out with the laundry list of weapons to deliver herself.

As you head back to your station you see where your wrist snagged, a small rip in the patch probably caught on the sight since it had been the last thing you'd touched- Changing out the patch from your wrist mildly annoyed now you return to your station mumbling under your breath.

Non the wiser at the snowball you had started...

On the other side of the base far from the were you continued to work. König sat in his office, his large form hunched over the stacks files on his desk as he looked over the details of his upcoming mission, Grumbling in his native language over the details listed as he bounced his leg slightly in thought.

A soft knock snapping him from his thoughts- Already smelling the Sergeant from the armory before she walked into the office as gently as possible.

"Colonel, I have yo-"

"Leave them there. You're dismissed Sergeant. "

He didn't even bother glancing up nor letting her finish her sentence, gesturing to the spot he always had them put it and waving her off just as fast. Already feeling the clear upset from the sergeant as she did as asked- König waiting till he heard that door close did he look up, sighing a bit to himself.

König was not in a good mood- and while he normally would have humored the women at least someone who had very clearly hinted she was willing to climb his 'corporate ladder'- He didn't feel like it today.

His nerves were a bit shot, wound up and he felt ready to snap his teeth at anyone if they came across his path at this point. Flexing his hands he looked to the bag in the corner spot.

It was a small ritual he had before missions. Something that allowed his mind to settle a bit.

He'd always look over each item in his office. A bit of paranoia and anxiety in the idea of someone possibly handing him poor items before he went out to whatever dangerous mission he was thrown into. That and it just gave him something to fidget with..

However he had started to be more lax about it.

It was clear most of the time it was the same hand doing his repairs, the sight to his liking, cleaned well and it was set up always the same in his bag. He still checked them of course but it was more for comfort.

Sliding over the bag he started his little ritual, humming a bit as he checked each item that would go into his vest or hands. Each gun, knife, the sledgehammer he sported on his back. Finally the rifle which he looked over- As he went to slide it back something caught his nose on the gun in hand.

His head twitched to the side a bit-

König rolled the empty rifle in his palm slowly looking it over, narrowing his eyes a bit as he saw on the corner a bit of white, clearly a part of a patch that managed to snag deep enough. Grabbing it between his fingers he rolled it a bit, Catching the scent once again between his warmed fingers.

He had to swallow the literal growl that wanted to erupt from his throat then and there.

Quickly pulling his mask up almost frantic he breathed it the tiny strip of gauze far more deeply exhaling softly to let the taste settle on his tongue.

Almost Peachy, Light flowers, Marshmallows and a bit of citrus.

Oh it was divine..

"Scheiße.."

He mumbled, eyes almost rolling at the tiny scratch of gauze. It made his mouth water, chest flutter and that feral part of his brain scratch at the walls he had long since locked up.

Truthfully it had been been quite some years he'd even gotten a scratch at that inner Alpha, Being jacked on enough suppressants to kill a bear at this point so he wasn't much of a liability- Sure the characteristics still were there however the need to fall into that mindset of wanting to mark, breed and so forth had been locked up behind pills shaped bars.

It had even been years really since he'd even sleep with an omega, let alone feel so undone by anyone.. All his conquest had always been either alphas or tough and tumble betas. Someone sturdy and easy to let go at a moments notice.

But this was different..

He ran his tongue over his sharpened teeth, jaw twitching purely by the thought of whoever this scent belonged to- really just soaking it in. König couldn't help but chuckle darkly under his breath. This little thing was managing to break nearly 20 or so years of suppressed instincts in minutes.

'Impressive little Omega..'

Racking through his brain a little as he continued to roll the fabric between his fingers. Letting the scent linger for as long as he could as he thought quietly to himself, looking at the weapons with a crooked smile-

"Interesting.."

[n3kochuu]

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3

The days following the incident had been quiet and tense. Y/n was still hesitant to leave her apartment. Her once vibrant and adventurous spirit shot down by fear. The flowers gifted by Ghost and König still sitting outside her door. She had spent most of her time curled up on the couch, her laptop open to keep her mind busy. She had emailed her professors about her absence, but she knew her excuses could only last so long. She needed to contact someone to report the incident. But she was too afraid to show her face out of the safe sanctuary of her apartment in fear the man would attempt to attack her again.

One evening she had the news on to have background noise to cover up the haunting silence of her apartment and the headline came up, something that made her breath hitch. The title read: Local Man Arrested on Campus for Harassment, Linked to Streamer Incident.

Her pulse quickened as she had all her attention on the news to figure out more. How did he get caught? Was he targeting other people too? Her legs bouncing up and down. The photo of the man on the screen was indeed the same man who had cornered her that day, who had made her feel small and vulnerable. He had finally been arrested.

The news reporter continued and said an anonymous tip had led to his capture. The police had tracked him down connecting him to several similar incidents in the area. Y/n had exhaled in relief knowing that man was locked away. But she couldn't help but think, who had tipped him off to the authorities? It wasn't her for sure. She couldn't help but think of her secret protectors. Was it them? She had no evidence to tie it to them, but something told her that it had to be them. Ever since the incident, they had left gifts at her door to comfort her. She felt guilty that she didn't accept them this time, but something told her that they understood.

For the first time in days, she felt brave enough to step outside. The sunlight hit her face as she stood in the doorway, a deep breath filling her lungs. She knew she still had a long way to go to fully reclaim her confidence, but she also knew she wasn’t walking that path alone. Somewhere out there, Ghost and König were watching, protecting her, ensuring she had the space to heal.

And as she walked to her bike, the guardian bell chimed softly, reminding her of the quiet promise she had come to rely on.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

six is a die.

poly 141 x reader

tags-minor suggestiveness cause im too lazy to write smut :P absolute shit but i needed to post, written in first person cause i wanted to experiment but i ended up regretting half way through oh well

word count-755

The quiet had settled like a soft blanket over the room. Lights dimmed. doors locked, Dishes washed, and now we were all gathered in the bedroom, bodies draped over the bed in various stages of tired.

I was curled between Gaz and Soap, still warm from the shower, hair damp and sticking to my neck. Gaz was trailing slow fingers up and down my spine, and Soap had one arm slung over my waist, his nose buried in my shoulder.

“M’never goin’ back to single life,” Soap mumbled against my skin, voice low and lazy. “This is heaven.”

Ghost stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, watching us with that unreadable stare. But I could see it—the way his eyes kept flicking to my bare thigh, the soft curve of Gaz’s hand on my hip, the way Soap kept shifting his leg just to press closer.

Price came in from the hall in nothing but sweatpants, towel still over his shoulders, and gave Ghost a knowing look. “They’re riled up.”

“Bit obvious,” Ghost muttered.

Price glanced down at me, lifted a brow. “That true, sweetheart?”

I didn’t answer with words. Just let my hand drift under the sheet, fingertips brushing up over Soap’s chest, feeling the way he twitched and let out a soft, breathy curse.

“Shit—”

Gaz let out a low chuckle and nipped at my ear. “Little tease.”

“Who said I was teasing?” I murmured, rolling over onto my back so all three of them could see the way my shirt clung to my chest. I wasn’t wearing much—just that loose, worn tee that belonged to Price and barely anything underneath.

“You gonna do something about it, or just look at me like that?” I asked, gaze flicking between Ghost and Price.

Price didn’t hesitate. He came over, hand gripping my chin gently as he leaned down, lips brushing mine. “You sure?”

I nodded, breath shallow. “All of you.”

Ghost finally moved, tugging off his shirt in one clean motion. Soap whistled low. “Christ, mate—warn us before you do that. I think my heart stopped.”

“Good,” Ghost muttered, climbing onto the bed behind me. “Don’t need you talking for this part.”

“Gonna make me shut up?” Soap teased, but his voice cracked a little when my hand slid down to his waistband.

“Oh, we’ll make you shut up,” Gaz grinned, shifting between my legs, hands firm on my thighs as he dipped his head and pressed a kiss just above my navel.

I gasped, arching under him, and suddenly the room felt hot—body against body, mouth against skin, and the weight of them, all of them, surrounding me.

They didn’t rush.

That was the thing about being loved by four soldiers who knew pain and pressure and control. They worshipped slowly. Reverently.

Price’s hand held mine the whole time, murmuring praise between kisses. Soap tangled his fingers in my hair and whispered filth in my ear between breathless laughter. Gaz explored me like he hadn’t already memorized every inch, like I was brand new every time. And Ghost—God, Ghost—he was quiet but intentional, lips against my throat, hands stroking down my hips, voice low and rough when he finally spoke.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “So fucking perfect… and you’re ours.”

Ours.

That word echoed through me harder than any touch. It was always “ours.” Never possession. Never control. Just... belonging.

I’d never felt more safe, more desired, more seen.

Their bodies moved with mine, against mine, like music—no jealousy, no ego, just heat and mouths and hands everywhere. It didn’t matter who kissed me next, who touched what, who made who moan. It all bled together in sensation and want and love.

Later—sweaty, spent, tangled in limbs and the wreckage of our shared hunger—I laid across Price’s chest, Ghost spooning me from behind, Soap draped over my thigh like a clingy cat, and Gaz tucked up under my arm, lips still brushing kisses to my collarbone.

“Worth it?” Price murmured into my hair.

I smiled, a little dazed. “More than worth it.”

Soap hummed. “Y’realize this means you’re stuck with us. Forever. Even if we fight over who finishes the last biscuit.”

“Even if you snore like a chainsaw,” Gaz added.

“Even if you forget to do laundry again,” Ghost rumbled.

I looked at each of them, hearts bared and bodies close.

“Then I guess I’m the luckiest person alive.”

Price chuckled, low and warm. “No. We are.”

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Run Rabbit Run by Flanagen and Allen

Okay so, this fic was originally another fandom, but I left that fandom and felt super gross about this fic for a long time. However, I do think it's a good story and I really wanted to rework it for you guys. It's a long story and I need to rework so much so it takes a really long time to get chapters out, but I think you'll all enjoy this story.

This is just a prologue for a new ABO story. This one is about you, a free omega type O being the owner of an alpha A slave known as König, and the two of you learning about what freedom means.

Anyways, enjoy the story.

TWs: Slavery, ABO

Wordcount: 1K

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

Run Rabbit Run by Flanagen and Allen

“...And now children, listen closely to what I have to say now. 

“In this world, the roles of alphas, betas and omegas are all clearly defined in the modern world, as they should be. This social pecking order is what keeps order in our society. Without it, we would be no better than animals! To understand this hierarchy, we have kindly broken the three major classes down into three sub classes to help you understand where you may be placed in the future.

“At the head of the pack is the alpha. An alpha protects those they care for. The largest and strongest of the pack, alphas are only able to impregnate others, but never carry their own child. The alpha relies on either a beta from the opposite sex, or an omega (no matter the sex) to perform that duty for them.

“A ‘true’ alpha is known as an alpha alpha, or alpha A. Very rarely does someone meet an alpha alpha. These individuals are often thought of as the prime example of what an alpha should strive to be. The biggest, the strongest, the fastest. An alpha alpha is often seen as a pillar in their community.

“An alpha beta, or alpha B, is the most common alpha that you’ll come across. They may not be as tall, strong or quick as their alpha alpha cousins, but they are known to be more social and charismatic leaders than the alpha alpha. Many alpha betas grow up to take roles in politics or business management.

“Finally, the alpha omega, or alpha O. Often looked down upon by other alphas, this rare form of alpha is much smaller and weaker than the other alphas. Often, it is easy to mix one up with a beta, but you can easily determine their ranking by the glands around their neck.

“The beta is the main pack member. They are the meat of the pack, the workers of the colony, if you will. They are less controlled by the lust within them than your typical alpha and omega, making them suitable for all sorts of jobs in society. It is hard to find many issues with your average betas. They are the every man. Nothing especially good, but nothing especially bad, also. Depending on their sex, they are either able to inseminate their partners or are able to give birth themselves, male and female respectively. 

“The beta alpha, or beta A, is known for being charismatic. Not quite as large as an alpha, but certainly capable on their own, they are often hardworking, strong and reliable friends and family in their communities.

“The beta beta, or beta B, is average of all averages. Many consider a beta beta the perfect person to be. Beta betas are the most common population, though not by much. They are often the easiest to get along with, as they aren’t subject to the throes of emotions like other classes. Instead, they are highly regarded for their logical thinking and reasonable approaches.

“The beta omega, or beta O, is often just like the beta beta, but typically with lower energy. This individual is often far more relaxed than the beta beta. Some have said that this class is ‘lazy’, but many beta omegas prefer to say that they ‘stop to smell the roses’, if you will. Many take on simple jobs that don’t require much physical effort. Beta omegas are also at higher risk of developing obesity, so it would be wise to bring your beta omega friends along for a neighbourhood run to start off their days!

“The omega is the follower. The runt. The breeder. The omega typically has the lowest standing in society, unable to impregnate another. They are useful in bringing up the rear of the pack, but are prone to emotional outbursts. They seem to be unable to separate facts from opinions, and so thus are very difficult to reason with, nevermind listen to. Though they might be small, they certainly make up for it with their heats, which are immense displays of passion that can be thrilling to behold, or better yet take part in! But be warned, for when an omega is in heat, it may trigger your own instincts and cause you to lose your sensibilities. Though modern medicine has created heat suppressants, they are not always guaranteed to work.

“The omega alpha, or omega A, is considered a cursed class. Not quite a beta, stuck in life as an omega. Many omega alphas harbour great resentment for their standing in life. They often forget that they are the leaders of omegas, and often attract other omegas seeking comfort. Many famous rebels in history have been omega alphas, as they seem to be the ones most keen on standing up for their own brothers and sisters. 

“The omega beta, or omega B, is widely accepted by all members of society. They often do not cause problems, and have a more docile nature than the omega alphas. In older times, they were often kept as placid concubines for rulers, or as a beloved pet by aristocracy. Omega betas are often mistaken for omega omegas, but one can always tell the difference by the way they hold themselves. Omega betas are proud of their existence, meagre as it may be, whereas omega omegas are often anxious and unpredictable in their behaviours.

“Finally, the omega omega, or omega O. Some even refer to this class as ‘the big O’, but this is not recognised by professionals in the industry. The lowest of the low, omega omegas are few and far in between, and possibly for good reason. In ancient times, a person who presented as omega omega was almost always forced into slavery. Though this has been outlawed by civilised countries, such as here in the United States, it is still a common practise in third world countries around the globe. There, they are regarded only as breeders, and nothing more. Many forget the value of the omega omega as the nurturing balance of the alpha alpha…”

-Segment of a transcript from ‘The Laws of Society’, published in 1957 by the United States of American Institute of Fertility and Humanities to supplement the health and wellness curriculum in classrooms across the nation.

Konig Dump

Konig Alternate Universes

[whocaresabouttactical]

eat me whole

[stargirlstabber]

imagine könig, the big man he is, slamming his massive dick in and out of you, not caring if it 'doesn't fit'. he will make it fit. he will. he'll manhandle you into various positions, the ones he wants to fuck you in that moment. you'll probably start crying by the time he chases his second release or when he decides to fill both of your tight holes and pushes a dildo or a plug into you. or maybe a vibrator. it really depends on his mood and how good you've been for him. squirming away won't help if he's balls deep into your sloppy cunt, the grip his massive hands have on you holds you like you're a doll to him. which you are.

[amaranthinespirit]

könig is determined to breed you (p!link)

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.

[dmitriene]

cw: könig is a weirdo and reader match him.

könig likes pretty things, young and vulnerable dolls that bat their eyelashes prettily at him, wrapping their dainty hands around his thick bicep, trailing beside him despite his perverse touch, letting him lure them to his messed bed in some dark apartment, fuck their brain silly.

it's always a one time thing, könig ain't good for a long term relationship because of the bitter need to posses that been festering in him from the start, they just use each other, he has a lovely built body that makes girls salivate, and he packs a cock that is too thick you able to feel the ache even the next morning while trying to escape his apartment.

it's not the same with you, könig notices it by the way you cling to him while he punches his fat cock in your tight pussy, shallow thrusts of his wide hips making his thick cockhead pummel into your spongy spot, your hands clinging against his broad shoulders, walls tightening with rapid pulsing.

you ask him for kisses, enveloping his rough mug with your delicate palms and letting his tongue make out sloppily with your mouth, whining broken groans as he presses a wide palm to your tummy, feeling the bulge beneath where his girthy cock pistons in you, making your pussy squelch with each wet glide, as you coat his length in oozing slick.

you even let könig cum in you, flooding you full of creamy cum that drips out your pulsing hole, making a mess from the sheets and your trembling thighs, not uttering for once that now everything is tacky, instead, you curl against him like affectionate kitten and try to nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck and wrap your cramping legs around his waist.

könig doesn't even knows what to think, you don't try to escape his bed immediately, instead pressing your naked body against his beefy one, letting his twitching cock stay buried inside of you, cockwarmed by your snug walls, as you let his burly hands envelope your frame and rock you to sleep like a baby.

and when you wake up early in the morning with pleasurable ache in your body and pussy throbbing, welcomed by the sight of breakfast in bed and könig clinging to you like a pup, smothering your neck in sloppy kisses and slurringly calling you his girlfriend, you don't run away.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Alpha!Kortac with a new recruit!Reader who's being courted (or attempted to be) by every alpha on base.

All of them try to show off with their various positive attributes, winning fights, showing off conquests, etc.

But then there's König. König takes the time to really truly learn Reader. He learns what reader likes, their favourite scents, fabrics they like, music, everything. He learns it all.

So when heat season comes? On reader's doorstep there's about 20 different scent items, labelled from various alphas.

They're all big blankets, or hoodies, all theirs.

But then there's König's. He brought a box.

It's shirts, all your favourite colours and fabrics, some freshly bought, others from his collection. In the bottom is a fluffy blanket, it's comfortable looking, too. It has a note on it, which reads "Saw this in the autumn and it reminded me of you. I've been making sure to scent it frequently for you." With a little crown doodle. It's from König.

It's not a massive surprise to him whenever he sees you on his doorstep, trying to tug him to your nest, thick with heat smell.

[yawnderu]

Sex Pollen — König x Reader

"I'm sorry, mein Engel." König whined out as he kept ramming into you, your moaning mixed with his low groaning and soft whines whenever he overestimulated himself. He came inside you four times already, yet the effects of the gas you both accidentally inhaled had him hard as a rock. He couldn't stop even if he wanted, even when you were asking him to stop for a second so your abused cunt could take a break.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... it feels too good to stop. Ah, scheiße... like that." His big gloved hands guided your hips up and down, thrusting up to meet you halfway as his head dropped back against the wall, eyes closed as he focused on feeling your wet cunt wrap tightly around his fat dick. Truth to be told, he wanted his first time with you to be special. He wanted to invite you out on a date and if he got lucky, he wanted to have a romantic love-making session with you, yet here he is; moving your much smaller body up and down his cock, using your pussy to jerk himself off, filling you up like nothing.

"Mein Gott... you're so tight." He hisses out, grabbing your hips before he manages to get up with his dick still inside you. Your arms wrap around his neck for support as he begins to fuck into you like a madman, using your much smaller body as if you're nothing but a fleshlight. The mask is still hiding his face, yet you can imagine just how pretty his face looks simply by looking at the desperate look in his eyes as his gaze narrows.

"Just... give me one more, schätzchen, one more and I'll stop." It was probably a lie. His dick was still rock-hard, and his body couldn't get enough of you. The drug left his body the first time he came, yet he couldn't stop himself from being inside you. All those times he spent jerking off to the thought of you, whenever you accidentally touched him, whenever you looked at him, whenever he heard your voice, the one time he was able to get a hold of your used panties, all those moments of waiting patiently were worth it in the end.

"Verdammt." He muttered softly as he felt your pussy cramping down on him, burying his face on your neck as he began muttering pure non-sense in German, pushing his dick all the way inside so your cervix welcomed his 5th load. He let out a deep groan, holding you close as your cunt milked him dry.

[simonriley09]

Praise - Konig [Kinktober Day 23]

TW: NSFW, Fem! Reader, Sex, Praise, MDNI.

You feel König slowly insert his huge, fat cock into you, Praising at how well you take him. "So gut maus... So verdammt gut." You cant help but squeeze around the tip, making him groan. "Ja.. keep squeezing me like that and i might have to cum inside Liebling."

He slides half his dick in making you squeeze tighter, He thinks you might push him out with how tightly you're squeezing, Maus. Only half his cock is inside you but it already feels like it's hitting the back of your throat, it makes you wanna scream but the only thing that comes out is a breathy whine. König grins at your whine, slipping an inch deeper which makes you suck in a sharp breath and claw at his shoulder blades, Toes curling from the pressure. He finally bottoms out with a low groan, looking down at your bulging belly. "Such a good girl... taking me so well." "Gonna be so good for me, right maus? Gonna be a good girl?" He ends his words with a sharp thrust against your cervix, causing you to cry out, a loud moan escaping your lips. "So loud.. make more noise for me i love it." His hips rolled into yours, stuffing his fat dick into your cunny perfectly. Molding you wet, velvety walls into the shape of his dick. Your nails dug deeper into his back as he started thrusting faster, One of his hands suddenly pushing down on the bulge on your belly until you squirt all over him. Causing the bedsheets and his pubes to be covered in your slick. "Gut.... sehr gut, maus." He continues thrusting through your orgasm before pulling out and cumming all over your belly with a groan.

[holeforzenin]

❝​REPAYMENT​❝

Synopsis - Oh no! What happens when the big, massive strong man that saved you during a very dangerous war, wants something from you in return for his bravery?

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!reader

Warnings - Dub-con, mentions of killing people, creampie, ass play, size kink, he stuffs his gloves in your mouth, he's possessive, mentions about keeping you with him. Dark content. this was kinda rushed so sorry for any errors!!

Art credits @umkochannart on twitter!

A/n - I NEED HIM, SOMEONE PLEASE

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Oh my— fuck! Sir, please we shouldn't be doing this, someone might see!” you stammered, legs trembling as your panties lazily pooled around your ankles. You mewled at the feeling of his hard, cold gear slapping against the mound of your ass, making the flesh ripple against his clothed pelvis. You keened as the wooden table dug into your stomach as you held onto the edge for dear life.

His cock was so thick and long—perfectly curved as it stretches open your tight, compressed walls to alter his girth. He grunts, feeling your tight little pussy eagerly fluttering around his invasive dick as you blabber on and on about your little worries about getting caught. Of course, you minded that a stranger man was destroying your pussy, but that was the least of your worries right now. The thought of getting caught and someone seeing your vulnerable self—almost naked, being pounded against a small table in the supply room by a big solider that's fully clothed, except for the crotch of his pants that's zipped down to free his aching cock, that's currently having your cunt drooling—making a mess all over his thick combat pants, made your mind hazy and your cunt throbbing in both excitement and frustration.

“Aww don't worry bout' that darling—I’ll just kill them for you so they won't say anything, will that be better?” he chuckles, his gloved hands digging into your hips as he deeply thrusts himself inside your dripping pussy relentlessly, fucking every single brain cell out of you. For someone who is “scared”, your pussy sure as hell was soaked and aroused.

He smirked under his skull mask at the feeling of your sweet pussy throbbing in tight circles around his cock to his words. “Oh? What a dirty little slut, does my talking about killing people make you horny? Such a sick little bitch, this pussy is clenching around me like it's fucking addicted to my cock, you a virgin, darling?”

Your eyebrows furred together at his sick wordings, you felt on the verge of losing your mind as the feeling of pure pleasure clouded your mind. “No, M’not!” you whimpered out, your tits grazing against the wooden table as your gushy pussy leaked all over his veiny shaft, every thrust had your pussy coating his cock even more with your filthy juices—as if you were enjoying it, or maybe you were?

“Oh yeah? Well, your cunt sure is fucking tight and warm—squeezing me so hard for someone that's a whore, whaddya say I keep you here and split open this little pussy whenever I feel like it?” he chuckles darkly, a huge palm slapping your bouncing ass as it jiggles against him, you moaned, tears prickling at your tear line as his thick, filled balls slaps against your poor clit, creating even more friction that had you seeing stars.

“No! Sir—can't, you promised you'll let me go after this!” you muttered, feeling so stuffed by the big man’s cock. “Shh, shhh I'm just joking with you doll” he laughs wickedly, perverted eyes moving down to where the two of you were lewdly connected. His eyes fixated on your other little neglected hole, which's already coated with some slick from your pussy. He eagerly pulled off one of his gloves and placed it on the table. You jolted unexpectedly when he stuffed a thumb deep into your mouth, he pressed his weighted chest onto your smaller back—getting closer to you as he whispered, “Get it all wet and lubed up, it's for your own good, darling”, you were confused and oblivious to what he'd be needing his thumb for but obeyed him anyways, not wanting to make the big man angry.

You whirled your tongue around his finger, making sure to get as much spit on it as possible. After, you hummed, letting him know that you were done. He pulled his finger out, sticky drips of spit coating him. Your eyes widen with fear when you felt his fat thumb circling your virgin asshole, he spreads the spit all over the shy, fluttering hole before sinking it in little by little. “Fuck! Sir—please be gentle, never had anything in there!” You yelled as you cried out in pain of your untouched hole getting stretched out. He quickly picked up his glove and shoved it into your mouth when there were footsteps heard thumping outside the room. “For heaven's sake, please shut the fuck up or I’ll really kill someone. I'm not joking darling. You’re mine now and I won't let other eyes see what's mine” he said in a stern tone. He hissed lowly at the feeling of your asshole swallowing his whole thumb in, all the way to the hilt.

“Such a tight little asshole, M’honored I’ll be the first one to break open this pretty ass”. Your muffled cries got louder as he pounded his hefty cock harder into your pussy, making it gushing all over him as he fucked out more and more juices out of your body. Soon the pain turned into pleasure as he started wiggling his thumb inside of you, feeling it exploring your tight walls. Your moan grew sweeter and more fucked out as you felt your orgasm washing over you—his huge cock tip nudging against your G-spot bullyingly, making your mind hazy. He felt it—felt the way your pussy grew more wetter and tighter around his length, taking him in all the way in as he pants. “Fuck darling are you gonna cum? Go on baby, you can cum, cum all over my cock, you slut”. He ordered, letting his thumb hooked into your butthole as he uses three other fingers to rub wet circles around your clit.

You moaned out, standing on your tippy toes as you clenched both holes tighter around him, making him hiss as you squirted all over him—your filthy mess splattering all over his uniform and gear as he fucks more and more juices out of your dirty pussy. He groaned loudly as you made a mess all over him—he never had someone squirting on him before, so it drove him fucking crazy. He lands slap after slap on your ass cheeks—making the flesh red as you whimpered. “Such a messy little whore, you really squirted on a random man you don't even know? You really are a little slut, I'm definitely keeping you darling” he laughs out, feeling his orgasm following him. “I’m gonna stuff this cute little pussy so full of my seed, gonna drain it so deep inside you baby, it'll come out your mouth” The whole room reeked of sex as he towered over you, his massive cock snugly engulfed by your little pussy, so tight and warm for him. He moans louder, splitting out a few curses as he pulled out his thumb out of your ass, making your little hole wink at him at the loss of his finger. He used both hands to grip your hips, holding you steady as he used your body as a little fuckdoll, manhandling your little body to meet his cock halfway as you felt his cock twitching inside of you.

“No please! Sir not insi-” Too late, hot ropes of warm sticky cum spurted into your poor hole, filling it up as your eyes roll back. “Fuckkk, ohh fuckk yesss, such a good little cumslut for me” he moaned out with ecstasy as he emptied into your warm pussy—after so long.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as he stilled himself into you. He bent over once again, his chest and gear touching your back as he whispered to you. “Don't worry sweetheart, I’ll take good care of you, will fucking kill anyone if they dare look in your direction. You'll be mine forever, pretty”.

[n3kochuu]

pt. 1 fem college student, streamer, and biker reader x stalker!Ghost x stalker!König

"Goodnight chat! Thanks for tuning in!" y/n said as she waved before she hit the end stream button. The gentle hum of her pc harmonized with the silence of her room as she stretched back as her chair squeaked. The chat has been lively tonight as she played the new game InZoi.

Her eyes traveled to the small crescent moon charm that sat on her desk - a gift that had arrived earlier that day after she attempted to hop on the "tried being the sun, but maybe I was the moon" TikTok trend. Her fans firmly believed she was a moon girl even with her bright personality. She grinned at the consideration of the gift. It was so delicate and beautiful. It resonated deeply with her as she loved the quiet nights when the world was finally asleep.

Finally getting up for another late-night drive on her bike. Sliding into her gear and her helmet, she grabbed her keys and went out the door. The solitude and freedom only the late night and her bike could offer. As she settled into her bike, she heard the small jingle of her guardian bell. Reminding her of Ghost and König's existence, she felt even more safe knowing her secret guardians were somewhere watching over her.

She knew - known for a while now - that she was never alone on these rides. Especially recently. She had noted the roar of the r6 behind her every night. Followed her at a respectful distance. She had never turned to look or acknowledge it aloud. She knew that whoever was behind her wasn't there to intrude. She never felt in harm's way. She felt even more safe if anything. They were watching over her, ensuring she was safe without crossing any lines. It wasn’t the kind of attention she feared; it was the kind she appreciated, even if she didn’t fully understand it, perhaps even craved for.

Ever since she had joined college, she hadn't made any friends. Just classmates here and there for projects, but nobody she really connected with. Hence why she turned to her streaming career. Her chat also never crossed any boundaries. Of course there were weirdos here and there, but nothing to ever to make her fear for her safety. It was nice to know there was someone out there to watch over her at a respectful distance. She was curious though to who her secret guardians are.

As she stopped at a gas station, the roars of the bikes behind her had also ceased. She smirked knowing that they didn't want to get too close. Ghost and König kept their distance as they pulled over knowing she stopped at a gas station. Ghost's sharp gaze didn't miss a single detail. He noted that y/n's leans into each corner were getting better and more confident. König noting that her riding seems to be getting much smoother.

"She seems much calmer tonight," König murmured, his voice ringing through Ghost's earpiece.

Ghost nodded. "She's getting more confident on the roads."

"She trusts us," König's tone thoughtful. "Even if she doesn't know us."

They continue to watch her from afar as she weaved through the roads and the air dancing through her hair, their presence like a quiet promise to keep her safe, no matter where the night eld her. For now, that was enough. They knew their time to step into the light would come. For now, ensuring her safety from afar was enough. They were patient. After all, they knew y/n was worth the wait.

As the night deepened, y/n's thoughts drifted to them. Who were they? Why are they doing this? Why was she okay with a secret stalker on her tail at all times? Why did she crave this safety? and why her? Regardless, she felt care in every gesture, every shadow that followed her. The world felt less lonely and with that, she smiled into the night. pt. two

[n1ght0f-nyx]

sanctuary in skin

farah karim x fem reader smut

tags- smut, cunnalingus, oral, wlw, religious guilt mentioned, not explicit religion, draft dumping rn

word count-1670

The walls around you hum faintly with the weight of war—low, constant, like the faraway growl of something that never sleeps. Dust coats the cement corners of the old bomb shelter, where time seems to slow, where silence folds around both of you like thick wool.

Farah leans against the far wall, arms crossed, sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her rifle rests just out of reach, and yet she looks at you like you are the real danger.

"You didn't sleep again," you say softly, your voice echoing lightly through the narrow space. You’re sitting on a rolled-up blanket, back against the rusted generator, the only warmth in this place coming from the small heater and the shared breath between you two.

Farah doesn’t answer at first. Her eyes drift to the ceiling, to nothing, to the weight of a nation on her back. "Neither did you," she replies finally, not looking at you.

You offer a half-smile. "I was listening to you breathe."

That makes her blink, sharp focus shifting toward you. Her mouth twitches like she's trying not to smile—but not because it’s funny. Because it's dangerous. Because it's wrong. Because even now, when you’re both hiding underground like ghosts in a homeland torn apart, she still hasn’t unlearned the guilt she had tried to sew into herself like a second skin.

"Don't say things like that," she murmurs, stepping toward you. Her boots make soft sounds over the cracked cement floor. "It makes me want to forget the world above us."

You tilt your head, daring her. “Maybe it deserves to be forgotten.”

Her breath catches. And you watch it—the tight pull of her chest beneath her undershirt, the way her hand twitches like she wants to touch you but doesn't trust herself to do it gently. You’ve seen her snap bones and make hard men cry. But right now, she’s fighting something far more terrifying than a soldier.

Desire.

"You know what they taught me," she says, her voice low. "That women like me are cursed. That He turns His face when we touch each other like this."

You rise to your feet slowly, stepping in close until there’s barely space between your bodies. "Do you believe that?"

Farah’s eyes burn with the weight of the answer. “No,” she breathes, like it costs her. “But I wish I could stop hearing their voices in my head when I look at you.”

Your hand finds hers. Rough from years of war, steady even now, even in this trembling moment.

“You don’t have to stop hearing them,” you whisper. “You just have to let my voice be louder.”

And when your lips meet, it’s not the first time—but it feels like it. A new kind of surrender. A war not of bullets, but of breath and skin and shame crumbling under the weight of love.

She kisses you like she’s angry at herself for needing it. Her hands cradle your face like she’s afraid to bruise you, even though you’ve never been more sure of anything than the way she touches you. Your back hits the shelter wall with a soft thud, and she crowds into your space, mouth pressing urgently to yours, teeth grazing your lip in apology and hunger all at once.

Farah pulls away just an inch, breathing hard. Her forehead rests against yours.

“I want you,” she murmurs. “But I want to deserve you more.”

You brush your fingers over her cheek, guiding her gaze back to you.

“You already do.”

Would you like me to continue into the smut scene from here? It can flow directly from this moment, slow and emotional or with more intensity—just let me know how you'd like the tone to shift.

Farah’s breath trembles as her lips hover near yours again, her fingers brushing your jaw like she’s memorizing the curve of your face for the thousandth time. There’s heat in her eyes now—something raw, unguarded, and terribly human.

You lean in first this time, kissing her slow. Not coaxing. Not teasing. Just there. Firm and real and present. And that’s what finally breaks her.

Her hands move down—along your shoulders, down your waist—settling on your hips with a grip that makes you gasp against her mouth. It’s like she’s reminding herself you’re solid, not a dream conjured in the half-light of exile. Her body presses flush to yours, and you feel how much she’s been holding back.

She pulls away, lips swollen and breath shallow. “Take it off,” she whispers, eyes flicking down to your shirt. “Please.”

You obey. The fabric peels from your skin slowly, the air in the shelter cool and biting, but Farah’s gaze is fire. She watches you like a woman starved—not just for touch, but for permission. Permission to want. To be wanted.

She sheds her own top with more urgency, almost angry with it, and steps back into you. The moment your bare skin meets, something clicks. She exhales against your neck, shaky and soft, and you wrap your arms around her shoulders, pulling her in tighter, grounding her.

“I think about this every night,” she murmurs into your collarbone. “The way you taste. The sounds you make.”

Her hands slide down your back, fingers catching on the waistband of your pants.

“But mostly…” She pauses to kiss the slope of your shoulder. “I think about how you say my name.”

You whisper it now—Farah—and she groans, low and throaty, like it’s a prayer turned sin.

When she kneels in front of you, it’s reverent. Her calloused palms smooth over your thighs as she hooks her fingers in your waistband and looks up at you with those burning eyes. You nod once, and she drags your pants down, slow, kissing the inside of your thigh as she goes, her breath warm and shaky.

“You’re shaking,” you whisper.

“I know,” she murmurs, voice husky. “I always do when I touch heaven.”

Then her mouth is on you, soft at first—languid, unhurried, learning the groove of every pore, every flicker of response from you. Her tongue moves with practiced care, but her hands grip your thighs like she might fall apart without holding on. You thread your fingers through her hair, tugging gently, and her groan vibrates against you.

You whisper her name again and again—breathy, desperate—your hips moving in small, helpless rolls as she licks into you deeper, tasting every ounce of love and want you’ve stored away for nights like this. Every time you twitch or gasp, she hums in approval, like your pleasure is her proof of existence.

Farah doesn’t stop until your legs tremble and your cries echo off the concrete walls. You cum with a stifled moan, her name on your tongue like a secret no one can take from you. She stays there, kissing your puffy clit gently, slowly easing you down from the high.

When she finally rises, her lips are slick, her eyes dark and feral. You pull her into your lap, needing her close, needing to feel all of her.

“Let me,” you whisper, unbuttoning her pants with shaky hands. She bites her lip, hard.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

Farah swallows hard, and then she nods. Letting you lower her onto the blankets, letting you worship every scar, every hard-won inch of her body. She flinches when you kiss the old bullet wound along her side.

“I hate this one,” she mutters.

You kiss it again. “I don’t. It’s part of you. It means you lived.”

When you touch her—fingers sliding between her folds, lips pressing softly to the hollow of her throat—she arches into you like she’s starved for love, not just pleasure. Every sound she makes is quiet, desperate, restrained, like she’s afraid someone might hear. Like the world might come crashing down if she gives herself fully.

But when she cums, gasping your name with a broken cry, she forgets to be quiet.

You kiss her through it, holding her like she might slip through your fingers. And when it’s done—when both of you are spent and tangled together on the shelter floor—she presses her forehead to yours, eyes glassy.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being afraid,” she whispers.

You tuck a hand against her cheek. “Then be afraid with me.”

Farah closes her eyes and exhales. “I already am.”

But she stays in your arms.

And for tonight, that’s enough.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Tiptoe Through the Tulips-Tiny Tim

Okay so after the prologue yesterday, I figured I'd post the first chapter and see what you guys think. Do you want to see more of this story? Do you like it? Please let me know!

TWs: slavery, ABO

Wordcount:

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

Tiptoe Through the Tulips-Tiny Tim

The crisp autumn wind whistled through the tunnels, howling out a wretched cry of despair before leaping onto the platform to stalk a wrought iron bench. On said bench sat a shivering woman carrying nothing but a briefcase and a sign. The sign was furled around the edges, and there was a stain of coffee on the upper corner that someone had obviously tried to get rid of but had decidedly given up upon, focussing more on keeping their fingers warmed up against their sides.

You sneezed and checked the overhead clock to see if the delayed train was on its way anytime soon. Your fingers were bright red, knuckles white from gripping on the sign firmly enough to crumple it. You gulped, the ticker’s orange lights above indicating that the train would indeed be another fifteen minutes before arrival. It seemed that there had been some sort of incident on the tracks. You wouldn’t have been surprised, really. Despite the fencing and the guards in the station, it was hard to prevent someone from slipping through the cracks. One would have thought a more effective solution would have been put in place by now, but it seemed such was not the case. In a way, you envied that ghost of your mind, freed from the world of shackles and hierarchies. And yet, you shuddered to think of all the bones that had been left behind on the rails.

You looked down to the briefcase and fiddled with the locks. There, inside the briefcase, were all the papers needed to ensure the entire arrangement went smoothly. There were your identification cards, the legal documents (already signed, you triple-checked), even the personal papers that your father had painstakingly wrote out to ensure that the guards would be sure of your identity, as if the chip in your bite collar wasn't enough proof. You thumbed the collar, mindlessly. You had your other ID card in your wallet, but most people liked to use the collar. You just wished you had an arm bracelet like the alphas and betas around you, but they said that the collar was more convenient. You just considered it an insult every time you had to present your neck just to buy some groceries.

The autumn air was brumous, doing nothing to really comfort you as you shuffled on the cold wooden bench. You checked over your shoulder, and saw naught but the staircase leading to the rest of the station. Behind you on your right was a cafe where a young beta B woman was sweeping some fallen leaves to the side. She didn’t seem tall, but you worried about how quick she might be. She certainly had long legs. It wouldn’t take much to come over and take you out from behind. It wouldn’t take much to collapse your trachea as she choked you out, and she could easily hide the body in the dumpsters. Damn the security cameras, when had those stopped anyone? Not when it was a crime against an omega, at least. You had been raised on warnings from your parents to be on guard. You needed to be on guard, you were an omega. Omegas were weak, omegas were pathetic, omegas were dead meat-

You slapped your leg, relishing in the pain that followed. You needed pain to focus. Pain was clear, simple. Pain had a cause and an effect. Easy to take, easy to understand. If you could still feel, it meant you were here, in the present. You were breathing, you were alive. And if pain meant you were alive, then by that logic, it meant that you could breathe, which was what you settled on doing.

You didn’t really understand why your father had to be so busy on that particular day. Normally, he would have been perfectly fine to go out and handle the legal proceedings himself. It would have been fine! Why was it that the cafe had been busy that day? Why did your father decide that his daughter, his omega O daughter,  needed to take responsibility and do something on your own? It was far too much pressure, and frankly, it was really not the brightest of ideas. After all, why were you here? You didn’t understand the legal logistics of all of this nonsense. You didn’t understand much of anything about this whole situation, if he was to be perfectly honest.

And yet, you sat on the bench regardless. You sat on that blasted bench with nothing but a sign and a briefcase. It would have been nice to have a coffee, but it wasn’t like you had the money to buy one anymore. Your father had always been tight on money, meaning he didn’t have much to spend paying his daughter. You had long since accepted that you’d work at the cafe for free until you inherited, if you inherited anything at all. After all, family helped family for free, didn’t they?

You sneezed. There wasn’t much around to really keep your mind off of the whole situation. Now that you noticed it, the train station was oddly quiet. It was midday on a Wednesday, certainly, but it still had your skin crawling. Save for you, the cafe worker, and the ticket taker, there really wasn’t anyone else there to take your mind off of why you were there.

Mind you, you supposed your grandmother wouldn’t have wanted you to be so anxious. She was always telling you that the only thing to fear was fear itself. There was no reason to be upset about someone sneaking up on you in a back alley. Why be worried when there is so much to do? Your grandmother probably would have been ashamed of her you for being so afraid… Oh, if she was here right now, she’d certainly hang her head in shame at what a wreck you were!

You slapped your leg again and let out a long shuddery breath. She wasn’t here right now. She would never be here now. No, Grandma was long gone. She had left this world with not much save a few precious belongings, which had been divided amongst the dwindling remaining family. She had always been a fair woman, if a bit harsh, and had seen to it that everything she owned went to the relative that had needed it most.

Jeremy, the eldest of your father’s family, was left her library. She had books collected from all around the world, in all sorts of languages in all states of being. In her collection was a series of bibles that had been out on display for all to see. Of course, her personal copy of the King James was by her bedside, but the display of bibles had been left to the eldest to learn from. Having been a man of God, Jeremy had been grateful about what had been left to him.

Amanda had been left in charge of the manor. The manor was truly an incredible estate, sprawling with unkempt wild gardens and a weird mish-mash of architectural styles to come together into a rickety castle of windows, arches and spires. It hadn’t seen much care in the final years of Grandma’s life, but it was still nothing to scoff at. Having struggled with obtaining a divorce from her overbearing husband, Amanda had been glad to finally have a place to call her own, to start a new life.

The youngest, your father, had been left with one allotment. A lump sum of money, the only remnant of the wealth the family once held onto. Years of the late Grandpa’s cunning business ventures and bold moves in the stock markets had led to quite a bounty to be had. However, once Grandpa had passed, much of his money was donated to local charities, with the grim remainders that were smuggled away left to his late wife for a safe life without him. Your father was glad for any money that could be had to support his coffee business.

The final recipient was a surprise for everyone. It had been none other than her youngest grandaughter, you. You were given the charge of your grandmother’s slave and closest companion, König. He’d been there as long as you could remember. Caring for Grandma in her twilight years, diligent and powerful, König had been her beloved slave. You had always found the gigantic man to be incredibly intimidating, what with his broad and deadly muscles wrapped around his tall, sturdy frame. Intimidating and always hidden behind an exectuioner’s hood. If one had thought to question the power in such a form, any doubt would have been quelled by the firm resolve held in those tired eyes. One had to question what lay beyond those eyes, what thoughts he had, what history lay behind him, who the slave really was. If there was one thing König was, though, it was loyal. Despite his biological tendency towards violence and the battered scars of past battles decorating his arms like medals on a soldier's chest, he was the gentlest and most caring man towards Grandma. You were absolutely terrified of him.

König, as he had been officially named, had done everything for Grandma Tweak without a single bat of his eyelids. He had been there to get her groceries, prepare her food, feed her and go so far as to wash her in the final years of her life. He had taken these burdens with pride and held his head high. He followed your fiery grandmother everywhere she went, taking care of personal matters and ensuring the elder was safe at all times. Grandma had supposedly died in his arms as he was reading her passages of the bible before bed.

However König, for all his care towards your grandmother, had not been one to extend any of his hospitality towards anyone else he came across, family member or otherwise. In fact, on your last visit to your grandmother’s home (roughly five years ago, if you counted correctly), you had been slammed against a wall for daring to disturb her during an afternoon nap. You had been seconds away from being torn to shreds when a small bell had pulled König away to stand behind your grandmother, who scolded you softly for making such a ruckus. You had wanted to argue that calling her for tea was not a reason to be thrown into a wall, but had simply stayed quiet, and accepted your punishment.

For the rest of the visit, you had been (understandably) nervous around König, who snarled if you so much as took a step out of place. Your grandmother had let it happen, and waived off your  father’s urges to call off her dog. He tried explaining that you were family. She had giggled, and replied, “Family means nothing in the eyes of vultures.”

You had been desperate to get your father to sell on the slave when you learned of your grandmother’s will, but your father had been keen on the extra pair of helping hands around the shop. Indeed, it also helped to deal with an ongoing issue within the cafe, which had led to many conflicts with the customers.

You knew that you couldn’t control who you were, or who you turned out to be, but you still couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly guilty about how you had turned out. After you had started presenting as an omega omega, customers had been eager to see what they could get away with. Some had taken to mocking you, others turned to flirting with you, encouraging you to run away with them. Others had taken to scenting the cafe, becoming violent towards other customers, and on one occasion attempting to pin you down to mark you. After that incident, you had been forced to work alongside your father, who had been less than pleased to be at the front counter. Your father was much more inclined to work in the back-end of the cafe than to be forced to work with customers, and had made sure that you knew of his displeasure at every waking moment.

Indeed, life had started to become a sort of living hell for you now. You were constantly on edge around customers, barely had enough money and time to go to the pharmacy to get scent represent medications, and you were forced to endure the wrath of your father whenever you so much as clinked a glass. The one light in your life also had suffered, as your mother had fallen ill with a disease that your father couldn’t cure with over-the-counter pain medications.

You knew that if your father had more time in the back and away from you and customers, he would surely have more time to help your mother. So thus, if an extra pair of (unpaid) hands was what it took to ease up on the workload, your father was glad to jump at it. In the end you had little say when you were forced to inherit the bodyguard that had once looked over your frail grandmother.

Thus, this led to you being sat where you were, where you prepared to hand over documents to ensure that König was taken into your care. This entire exchange was what brought you to be sat out on a wooden bench, freezing and sneezing away while you waited for a delayed train to arrive and deliver the one person you’d hoped you’d never had to see again. And because your father refused to leave the cafe, he’d sent you in his stead. So there you sat, waiting and praying the train never arrived.

In the end, the wait for the train had proven to be far less painful than you’d expected. Being lost in thought, you’d shot nearly five feet in the air when you heard a loud tolling of a bell, then the low roar of an incoming train. The heavy clunking and chuffing of the wheels grinding on the tracks groaned to a painful halt in front of you. The doors of the carriage opened like a can to let out a stream of passengers fluttering by. You winced from the sound, stiffened up as the small throng of people piled out of the train and onto the platform, buzzing around you like blackflies, shooting you stinging glares as they passed you by.

In the end, you were left with three people standing in front of him. Two men dressed in grey suits were situated on either side of a tall, looming beast of a man. His face was encased in a ferocious mask, and he’d been stripped down to only a pair of dirty canvas pants held up by a hemp rope. One of the men in suits stepped forward, calling your name.

You nodded, trying but failing to suppress a particularly violent tic in your neck.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. We offer our condolences upon the death of your grandmother, Andrea Bower. However, we are glad to announce that you are now a proud owner of one König. Please understand that there are some papers for you to sign before we can let you go. And, of course, we do believe there are some payments to be made,” the first man said and stood back.

You handed them the briefcase. They opened it to examine the contents, and after a cursory glance they nodded and shut it with a click. They looked back to you with twin barren expressions. If you weren’t so nervous, you might have been able to strain yourself to describe their faces as smiling, but as it was you couldn’t read anything past their dark sunglasses. They passed you a leash that had been fastened to the muzzle of the slave, and the other patted his back.

“Please understand that as Andrea did not leave much to König, so we had to take back many of the items that König once ‘owned’. The only objects legally listed under König’s name are a mask, his personal files, and your grandmother’s diaries and paperwork. These will be brought to your home by tomorrow evening.”

The other man handed you a card, “If you have any further questions or concerns, please call your local Slave Department Headquarters for advice.”

You nodded. The man waved over his shoulder as he turned to walk out the door.

Left there on the station, alone again (aside from the other aforementioned staff), you were left holding König’s leash. With nothing left to do, you figured you needed to go home. You expected some resistance from König, but the man simply followed behind you like a dark shadow. You tried to ignore what you presumed to be König’s glare, and fished out your wallet. You had a little bit of cash, the remnants of your birthday money, then looked back to König’s (lack of) shoes. There was no way he could be comfortable walking home with just a mask and pants. No, you couldn’t let that happen.

You made your way onto the street when a sudden breeze had you shuddering. You turned back to look at your new slave. 

At that moment, with you looking at König shivering in the autumn  breeze and you tucking your jacket around you, you saw a man discarded by society. Maybe he was taken off the streets after being unable to pay for his identity card, maybe he was sold into slavery. Maybe, you shivered, he was born into this life. All you really knew was that this man had suffered enough. You couldn’t hurt him.

So thus, instead of listening to your father, you decided that you would do your best to take care of König. You turned to him shyly.

“So, you’re probably really cold. I’m cold at least. So… I’m going to get you clothes, okay?” you said as confidently as you could manage. Your father had always told you that you had to be strong in front of your slaves. Had to show them their place.

König didn’t respond, and you were left awkwardly holding the leash and shuffling from side to side in the cold. You tried to stand still, but quickly broke from the glare when a car horn startled you. You sighed and accepted defeat. This wasn’t a great start, but it was the start you got. You huffed and spun on your heel to lead König out into the small town.

Once you both were on your way, you got a chance to take a good look at König. This new mask on his face was somehow worse than the one he usually wore. He looked like an insect now. The eyes were a cavernous black, not even the blues of his eyes being able to find light in there. The rusted metal tube from his mouth was covered in a fine grate, looking almost like some crusted proboscis. When he moved, his bones twitched and stretched under his thin paper skin

He was your grandmother’s shadow, now yours. You could feel him following behind you as you walked through the streets. He haunted you as he moved. You felt like if you let go of the leash, you’d fly somewhere far away. Maybe somewhere nice and warm. Maybe somewhere where slaves were outlawed. You could fly away and never deal with König or your father or mother or anyone. You would be free.

The thrift store came up sooner than you expected. Had you really been so lost in thought? It’s a wonder you even made it. A part of you wondered if König had guided you here, but that was impossible. König had never been here before. Hell, had he ever left your grandmother’s side? You didn’t think so. It didn’t seem right.

The bell twinkled as you walked inside with a sneeze and a shiver. This was not a safe place. Only a thin layer of glass covered the antique knife set on display, and there were rows upon rows of clothes to get lost in. You had to be on your guard here. With that in mind, you grabbed the nearest basket and brought König over to the largest size of clothing you could find.

“You can’t go out in fall like that,” you muttered. You shook your head and dropped your hands to your side, limp and vapid. You took in a deep breath before turning to König.

“Let’s get you some clothes,” you offered, “it’ll be safer for you that way.”

König stood still. You felt so terribly small compared to this giant man, but you had to be brave. You had to be strong. So thus, you threw a few large shirts into the plastic basket, followed by a couple of pairs of pants, a jacket or two, and some socks and boxers. It was hard to find things in König’s size, but you were happy when you looked at your basket. But it wasn’t enough. You looked at König’s feet and frowned. You’d need to do something about that. How his feet weren’t already frostbitten was a wonder. 

You guided König over to the shoe section and glared at the unimpressive selection of footwear. The best you could find was either a pair of  red crocs, pink wellingtons, or a very heavy set of workboots. Crocs and wellingtons wouldn’t be enough to insulate König’s feet in the cold, nor would they look professional in a cafe. With a sigh, you bought the roughened work boots. You could imagine König taking these massive boots and using them to smash your head in. Shuddering, you came to the checkout and placed the clothing items on the counter. The cashier looked at you, and then followed the leash in your hand all the way up to König. She silently nodded and scanned the meagre selection you’d been able to gather. The steady beeping of items passing the scanner and being tucked into a bag was the last thing you cared about. You were far more worried about how König stood over you so hungrily.

You gulped and grabbed the bag quickly before hurrying out of the store, accidentally tugging on König’s leash along the way. You didn’t even notice how you were gasping for air once you burst out of the store. You sheepishly looked up at König. You grimaced and whispered a small apology before you turned ahead for the long walk home. You were careful to not tug on the leash anymore, or at least as much as you could be. König seemed like he was still adjusting to the new boots. You tried your best to hurry home, occasionally glancing up and startling whenever you’d lock eyes (or so you supposed, it was a bit hard to see his eyes under the muzzle).

You carefully led the man through the corridor of streets and houses. You’d lived her your entire life but you felt like you could ever really relax. You would jump at every car horn, you’d shudder when someone talked too loudly around you. You were terrified that your scent would attract someone wicked to your front door. You tried to move quickly to not let your scent really linger in any one area, but there was only so much you could do when you were forced into a coffee shop. As you neared the store, you tried to contain your urge to just book it and leave König behind in the dust.

It took ages to get to the cafe. The sun was about to duck beneath the horizon by the time you walked through the front door of your home. This small little coffee shop was probably the only place in the whole city that you could come close to calling home.You were here more than you were in your own room. If nothing else, at least you liked the coffee shop. Day and night, soothing music played through crackling speakers in the corners of the room. It was a nice, cozy cafe. This little shop had become your own little slice of paradise, and hell.

You were able to take in a deep breath, taking in the warm smell of spices and baked goods. Everything was quiet. All was right in the world.

You turned to König with a smile.

“Well, welcome home I guess,” your smile faltered as you looked at his blank mask.

You looked around the room and took it all in. Now that you had König, everything seemed different, but just the same. Now that König was here, you could have someone dust the rafters after work. Your dad was always harping on you to get it done, but even with a ladder you couldn’t possibly reach. You tried to explain that you were an omega, and omega O at that, but your father wouldn’t have it. He swore up and down about it, but there was nothing he could do to change your biology.

You were looking at the rafters when you heard a series of thuds coming from behind you. You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise as you turned to face the opening door.

Your father looked König up and down with a frown. He ran one hand through his full beard and looked at you.

“What’s this?” he asked gruffly.

“I got König from the train station sir,” you offered hopefully.

Your father glared at the bags in your hands.

“I got him some clothes,” you explained nervously, “I just thought he needed to look presentable for the cafe.

Your father narrowed his beady eyes, but he gave you a curt nod.

“Good thinking,” he grumbled, “but still, the money comes out of your paycheck. König’s your responsibility, not mine.”

You nodded shakily as your father made his was across the floor to stand in front of König. He glared at the mask before turning to you.

“What’s with this?” he raised a meaty hand to König’s mask.

“I didn’t put it on,” you furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at König, “I think they put it on him when they were transporting him.”

Your father slipped a hand into his back pocket and gave König a once-over.

“Whelp, he’d better do his job,” your father shrugged, “I’ve had it up to here with those sick fucks coming into the cafe.”

You nodded along. For once, you couldn’t agree more with your dad. Ever since you’d presented your tertiary gender, you hadn’t had a day of peace. Everyone seemed like they wanted a piece of a newly presented omega O. It was just unfortunate that you were on the receiving end of it all.

Your dad reached up and grabbed König’s chin, turning him side to side before plucking at hsi shirt with a grunt.

“Is something wrong?” you asked as you watched your father unclip König’s leash.

“He just seems… Different,” your dad muttered, “smaller. Did they do something to him? He looks like a scrawny wimp now. You sure he can manage to take care of you?”

“I mean, I think he must’ve lost a little weight after grandma died,” you offered, “König was always really close to her.”

“Too close, if you ask me,” your father added as he stepped back. He put his fists on his hips with a frown. “You’d better go get him settled in. You’re both up early tomorrow. And König,” your father’s eyes narrowed to mean slits, “don’t fuck this up.”

König gave him the slightest nod, but it was enough to satisfy your father.

“You go get your room ready, alright?” your father started up the stairs as you squeaked.

“My room? Isn’t König getting his own room?” you asked.

“What?” your father cast you a glare over your shoulder, “and put him where? There’s no more space.”

“But don’t we have the spare-”

“No.”

You watched silently as your father plodded back up the stairs. He slowly trudged up and out of view, leaving you alone with the buz of the heater and the smell of burnt coffee beans.

“So, that’s my dad,” you said, shuddering and turning around to look at König, “I guess he hasn’t really changed much since you last saw him.”

You looked up at König and frowned. You couldn’t really see much in this lighting. Maybe tomorrow you’d get König to change a couple of the lightbulbs. With the thought in mind, you fumbled around in the dark to follow your father up the stairs, only stopping briefly to flick the lights off once you reached the top.

You slowly made your way past your father’s room and to the kitchen. You looked at König and then at the fridge.

“Do you want something to eat?” you asked.

König stared at you blankly.

You nodded and turned ahead to your room, “I’ll get us something later then.”

You made your way to your bedroom without another word. Once inside, you glanced around the cramped room before looking back at König.

“Do you want to sit down?” you asked softly. “It’s okay to sit. I know you’ve been on your feet all day.”

König didn’t look at you. You didn’t think he even heard you until he lowered himself to lightly perch on the very end of your tiny bed. You glanced at your bed, and then at König. 

Without another word, you carefully pulled out a file from under your jacket and flipped it open. The first pages seemed to be detailed notes of König’s body. From the looks of it, König was only about five years older than you. With the way he looked, you’d thought he was at least a decade older than that. You glanced at the next set of stats. At the very top it listed König’s height, a startling six foot ten that completely dwarfed you’s meager frame. You looked down at your twin size mattress again. It wasn’t like König could sleep on the floor. You could, but you didn’t want to do any more damage to your already aching back. This room was crammed as tightly as it could be. The wardrobe at the foot of your bed only had just enough room to open enough to squeeze into the drawers and the table and chair to the left of your bed served a dual purpose of being both a desk and a nightstand. It was so packed in that you couldn’t imagine where König could possibly fit in.

You looked around and bit your lip. The ground was cold and hard. You internally cursed your father for not just setting up a cot in the stockroom at the very least, but it was of no use. You figured you’d just have to get used to König very, very, quickly.

You turned to said man, and stared at his heavy mask. “Hey, um, I’m going to take that off, ok?” you said and stood to face König.

You leaned in and tried to undo the fiddly clasps. There were so many hooks and rings and clasps and buckles; it was ridiculous. How did they even put this on in the first place? Why did they put it on? König had never been muzzled by your grandmother, even though he was an alpha. You never understood how brave she was, but you admired it anyways. If König could be good with your grandmother, then maybe you could trust him without a muzzle too. You let out a little harrumph and crawled onto the bed behind König to continue. God, it was complicated even from this angle! You shook your head and continued using your nimble fingers to undo the straps, wincing as you saw the red imprints they left behind. You finally managed to make a breakthrough and returned back to standing in front of König.

“Nearly there!” you chirped and continued to fiddle away. You cursed under your breath when you accidentally made a strap tighter and hurriedly undid it with a muttered apology. You had no idea why they would have this on so tight. Something wasn’t right about this.

You gave a final yank and winced when the final buckle was undone. The mask was now splayed open like a pair of perverse butterfly wings, still was held firmly in place. Your face slowly dropped in horror. There’s no way… That would just be too much…

“Did they… Did they glue this on?” you whispered, but König shook his head ever so slightly. He hesitantly raised a weathered hand and gestured at his jaw underneath the mask.

You were a bit confused and looked under his jaw. You could really barely see what you were doing in this light. You gingerly traced your fingers along his neck but didn’t feel much besides a greasy beard and tough skin. You pulled back and hummed. You were so confused. What was König trying to tell you? You gripped the mask firmly and pulled hard. König was wrenched forwards but pulled back on the post beside him. You put a foot up on the bed to pull back harder, and grunted with effort. Why was this mask on so fucking tight?

You let out another grunt but stopped when König let out a low, growling moan. “Shit, right. Sorry König,” you whispered and stepped back. You put a finger on your chin and hummed again. “What the fuck is keeping that thing on if it isn’t glue?” you paled, “Oh my God do they stitch it in place?”

König shook his head, again gesturing to his jaw. You clucked your tongue and checked König’s jaw again. You looked closer, closer and closer until you gasped. You saw a small set of straps firmly embedded in König’s jaw. A thin line of blood was flowing out from when you’d pulled on the mask.

“Your jaw… You can’t even open your mouth with this on, can you,” you whispered and König bobbed his head, jabbing the straps in further.

You turned to rummage through your shelves for a bit. You grinned when you came across a pair of scissors and turned back to König. 

“I’m gonna be as gentle as I can be here,” you whispered and carefully moved the scissors under the strap.

König tensed, but he held still as you managed to snip the strap off. You carefully tugged the barb out of König’s jaw, hissing as it kept coming out. In total, you estimated the barb to be at least an inch long. You shuddered at the sight.

König shuffled and leaned his face to the other side so that you could get a good view in the yellow-orange light. It was easier the second time, but you still winced as you pulled the barb out of his jaw. You’d have to get the medicine kit in the bathroom after this for sure. 

Despite the resistance, the straps in König’s jaw were now off and the barbs were out. Evidently, this was some primitive way to force König’s jaw tightly shut. yYu supposed König wasn’t meant to have the barbs so deeply buried in, but you had a stronger feeling that König didn’t give a damn. The fact that he hadn’t even winced once through the entire walk home blew your mind.

With König’s jaw now able to open up, you were finally able to pull the mask free. You pulled it down, and stared in horror at what was inside the mask. Right where König’s mouth would be was a short metal pipe. The inside was caked with what looked like mouldy food. Even from at arm’s reach you gagged at the smell. You rushed to the bathroom and rinsed it out, feeling more than a bit sick as you pushed your fingers down the pipe to get all the gunk out

You held the mask in your hands and shook your head. After a minute, you looked up in the bathroom mirror. Your eyes looked puffy. When you touched them, they felt wet and sore. At some point you must’ve been crying. When did you do that? You looked down at the mask in your hands. Slowly, ever so slowly, you raised the mask up until it covered your face. In the mirror, you looked like a monster. You looked so frightening that it was hard to remember that there was a human under all of it. You stared in the mirror, debating if there really was a person under the mask after all.

Konig Dump

Konig Alternative Universes