#ex!boyfriend könig

[sweetiecutie]

More ex bf!König headcanons bc I love my men pathetic

Ex boyfriend! König who is definitely over you. That’s what he tells himself and his friends, sipping on his beer and pressing his new girl closer to his side. No one says anything but they all share a knowing look - all of his new girls resemble you somehow: their general appearance or some exact features like shape of her lips or eyes, their behaviour or how they handle themselves. But needless to say that none of those ‘relationships’ lasted longer than a few months.

Ex boyfriend! König whom you meet at one of your shared friend’s party, his sharp eyes detecting you the moment you step into the room, his throat growing dry as he watched your every move intently. You seemed relaxed - too normal, not mourning the loss of your relationship as much as he did, seemed like you didn’t spend sleepless nights thinking about him.

Ex boyfriend! König who after a few drinks has you cornered in small bathroom, on his knees with his face pressed against your thigh, begging for you to take him back. “Please, I need you so much, my life doesn’t have any sense without you. I’ll be better, please baby, I love you so much”. Your heart clenched at the sight before you - always arrogant and complacent he’s now kneeling at your feet, fat tears running down his reddened cheeks as he scatters small kisses all over your knees.

Not so ex boyfriend! König who is too eager to take you to his place once you mumble out small “Okay, fine. But this one is the last chance you get” to prove to you just how good of a boyfriend he may be for you.

Boyfriend! König who eats you out like man starved, your slick smeared all over his chin and cheeks, tongue buried deep inside of your cunny as his ears strain to not miss a single little sound you make, familiar taste of you clouding up his mind and turning König into a perfect whore for you. He spends the rest of the night fucking you oh so good, rubbing and licking all your soft spots - ones he knows by heart, until you cry and beg for him to give you a little breather. But he just can’t - not when you’re finally back, laying all spread out on his bed, hands tangled in his bedsheets, your trembling legs wrapped around his waist.

Those months spent without you were the worst in his entire life and now that König has you back he’s not letting go of you never again.

[cumikering]

Ex bf König x reader

1.8k | angst, comfort

When you saw König again, the world seemed to pause for a moment. Under the clear sky, the breeze subsided and the soft music faded. He felt out of place in this dimension. Was it him, really? You expected him to disappear when you opened your eyes.

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears as your feet took you towards him. He sat in the quiet corner of the rooftop cafe, where everything looked too small for him. Reality snapped back in place, but the wind in your hair didn’t feel like it and the gentle melody didn’t sound like what it was supposed to. You felt you were floating.

He smiled, but you were too caught up deciphering that it was him you were walking to.

It was König. On the table laid the strong hands you remembered holding all those years ago, next to his cup of tea. Heavy, rough and hardened - they were still very much his.

It was three years ago.

In three years, you didn’t see yourself changing much at all, but it was all clear on him now that he sat right before you. He had a different hairstyle – much longer than his military cut, a bit dishevelled. The scars on his face and arms had faded, the smaller ones leaving no trace. Jarring, as whenever you saw him after long periods of time, he always adorned more. He might not have been as buff, but he looked far more relaxed than when you saw him last despite the little lines on the corner of his eyes.

You weren’t sure if you were allowed to notice – it felt too intimate after all the ocean between you the past three years. But maybe life had been tough on him, like he said it was going to be.

He smiled as you sat. “You look good. Seems like you’ve been well.”

Well, you tried to be.

Of course you kept in contact, but predictably it waned with time. You were holding onto something which wasn't yours anymore, and he really wasn’t. His mind was entirely elsewhere and it wasn't his fault. You were never sure it was better or not that you understood, but sure as hell you knew it hurt a lot. Goodbyes always hurt, even if you already saw it coming from a mile away.

You offered him a weak smile. “How long are you staying for?” you asked, dreading the answer.

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure yet.”

You knew what it meant. Your gut wrenched.

You didn’t expect to hear König was in town. You could only think of his little message for the rest of the day, heart tossing and turning with possibilities. It was exactly like the promise he made before he left.

But he remembered, at least. You felt silly for holding the promise so dear to your heart, because he probably didn’t, and you didn’t want to be in this space alone. You didn’t want to know that you were the only one pining for the remnants of what you had - once was enough. But after three years, maybe you’ve forgotten what it felt like too.

“Can I get you something? Do you still like your iced peach tea with no sugar?”

You let out a small chuckle and nodded. You weren’t sure what to make of him remembering that.

We humans are unreliable with our memories. We remember things as a memory of a memory, and now after three years, you questioned yourself if what you remembered was what actually happened.

But you remembered missing him, of course. You remembered helping him pack up, stuffing his mugs between his clothes in his luggage. You slipped in some of his favourite chocolates too – the ones as sweet as his kisses - so he wouldn’t forget what the city was like. But if you were honest, they were so you wouldn’t forget him when you tasted them.

You remembered helping him donate his things, some of his books and some clothes that didn’t fit. You didn’t see a point in taking his shirts for yourself. They weren’t yours to keep anymore.

You remembered having one last look at his empty flat, holding your breath in anticipation, but still sank with loss knowing the click of the door was the grand finale of you and him. But most importantly, you remembered crystal clear how much you missed him that your stomach was scorched with acid and your tongue was as bitter as envy.

Your breakup was infinitely more painful than having him leave – you were used to rarely seeing him due to his job. ‘Du fehlst mir,’ his gentle voice said in the clips you played endlessly while he was away.

It weighed like lead, knowing he wasn’t going to text or call anymore, saying he missed you and couldn’t wait to see you again. You thought about how he wasn’t going to hold your hand while crossing the street, or that he wouldn’t be there to help you reach the top shelves of the supermarket.

It wrecked you that no one else would call you Liebling or Schatzi the same way he did, his voice overflowing with devotion and tenderness, the sweetest memories behind each syllable. You knew you’d never find anyone else like him.

Like the aftermath of war, the parting destroyed you, leaving a bleeding, gaping hole in your chest that never seemed to close up. Du fehlst mir indeed. He was missing from you.

Maybe you both were cowards for not trying, or not trying harder, but at that time, everything felt a lot more impossible.

Or you simply grew older, and realised real life was a lot more painful than broken hearts and not meeting your life goals. It was more like losing your loved ones or finding out they were dying.

Like on that phone call he received when you were out at the park after a nice lunch. You watched the smile fall from his face as your hand slipped out of his. He repeated in disbelief, but it was incomprehensible as he broke down. His knees went weak as he pressed his palm onto his eyes, as if it could hold the tears back. You led him to the closest bench and sat there in the deafening emptiness for a long while.

That was when you started to lose König. He was inconsolable, grave and so heavy, and you never blamed him one bit. It wasn’t his fault. You would have been the very same if you were told your dear mum was dying of late-stage cancer. You were there for him, and yet you watched as life bled out of his beautiful blue eyes, like what he would witness too when looking at his mother.

And so he quitted KorTac and left for good, back to Austria where his mum was. He loved it there, spoke much of the hiking sites and mountains you never could remember the names of. He promised to take you to his childhood home one day.

“My mama passed last month.”

Your heart crumbled. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

He hummed, looking away. “Everything’s sorted now. But I’m back, as I promised.”

He’d said you’d meet again, at that café where you first met, when it was all over – whatever over meant at that time. But you knew what it meant when you got his message the day before, and it shattered your heart.

“You must hate me for leaving. Three years isn’t nothing at all, but there hasn’t been a day I don’t think about you.” His regretful eyes met yours as his hands balled into tight fists. “I was in a bad shape and it would have been selfish to have you while I wasn’t myself. You never demanded anything from me because you were always so understanding, but I haven’t forgotten about you at all.”

You wondered if you remembered verbatim the time you were together, if you were truly happy or that your relentless mind romanticised it all after he left. Like a prized possession you wrap up and tuck away on the highest shelf, and let time fade the imperfect details into the sweetest, yet blurry, distant memory.

But you hadn’t forgotten that time when you had your first kiss on the Ferris wheel, that the fireworks in your chest were far grander than the ones in the sky. You felt like you were flying. Or when you went to the beach and stayed under as long as you both could to imagine what the world would have looked like without you both. You agreed as you held each other, the following sunset was the best you had ever seen, like the softest painting stolen straight out of heaven.

König was right. People project what they feel, intentionally or not. Perhaps it’s just human nature regardless how sick it is. If he made you feel ignored, you’d like him to feel as abandoned, but that doesn’t stop at negativity. When you were happy, you wanted him to be too. You’d be extra cheery, sing-songy like a contagion. You wanted to sink him in the joy and drown with him over and over.

You reached for his hands. “I never hated you at all. I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through, but I know I never hated you.” You hoped he heard the sincerity.

“I wasn’t myself since the news and I didn’t get any better. I became… elusive to myself. It was like losing everything all at once. I know you genuinely cared, but I couldn’t even talk about it. I hated that I couldn’t make you happy anymore.”

You thought you finally understood why you broke up. Being intentionally mean is manipulative, but having no control of yourself means being helpless in how you treat your partner. You could only imagine how defeating it was to watch himself hurt people he loved in the midst of his own disaster.

“I know, and I don’t despise you for it. Not at all and never did.” You shook your head. “I’ve been there too, remember?”

He might have been holding back tears, but you were never afraid of feelings.

If it’s been a month, and even in a year or ten, things will still be allowed to hurt. You’re allowed to grieve because sometimes you never fully heal from a part of you getting ripped away, and that’s alright.

You knew it all too well.

He smiled. He’d never been so beautiful before.

“I’m just happy to see you again,” he whispered.

And with your cheek against his chest, it felt like no time had passed. Maybe your heart never left. Maybe your heart was still docked at the shore of the both of you, always waiting for him to be back.

@sofasoap

[quietb00m]

Im honestly tired of cod content sometimes

I just want my husband to be back from the war

[wordstome]

truly nobody does intense horny beast-like König like Salome does. I'm lightheaded and I'm slavering like a dog I NEED more of this. ghghghghghhgh I'm feral ! ! ! !

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place. 

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts. 

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay. 

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle... 

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages. 

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue. 

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox. 

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots. 

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom. 

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger. 

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”  

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious. 

Why would you say that? 

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. 

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you. 

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile. 

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur? 

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you. 

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts. 

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly. 

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you. 

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.” 

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears? 

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat. 

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to… 

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels. 

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats. 

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use. 

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want. 

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man. 

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone. 

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out. 

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand. 

He wants you to guide him to his father. 

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years. 

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens. 

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you. 

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is. 

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh. 

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out. 

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely. 

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory. 

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand. 

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission. 

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm. 

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be. 

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.” 

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick. 

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.” 

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

Beekeeping age [Dilf!Konig x fem!Reader]

You're ex-boyfriend is an asshole, so you decided to fuck his hot military dad instead. You're going to find out why his first wife ran as fast as she did, very soon - but Konig is still the best dick that ever happened to you.

CW: Daddy kink(obvi), power imbalance, possessive Konig, perverted Konig, age gap(Reader in her early twenties, Konig in his early forties), mentions of cheating(your ex is a douchebag anyway), slightly obsessive Konig, size kink, unprotected sex.

FIRST PART (can be read separately) AO3

— Why your wife left you, again? 

You stuff your face full of…something. He cooked it – gods did he cook it well. It’s meat and vegetables and spices, and it feels like your dad cooking but twice as good. It feels like pure sin because he says you shouldn’t worry about calorie counts or how fat the meat is, or how good everything tastes fried because he needs his special girl to feel good and healthy and fatten up a little bit, and you…gods, you’re down. Bad. 

You wonder if König’s wife left because she couldn’t compete with his cooking. You wonder if his wife left because he was feeding her too good. 

— Why don’t we leave uneasy questions for later, Schatzi? 

He brushes his hand over your hair, taking in the way you look – dressed up in his shirt, skin covered in bites and bruises from his hold. He can’t see it right now but can almost testify to the way your lipstick was all over his collar – good thing he wasn't wearing his uniform shirt, wouldn’t want to make dorks from Kobra jealous. 

He brings you another plate, he fills your glass – you never knew beer could taste this good, but he whispered something about having his own little homemade brewery for wine and beer somewhere in the mountains, in his Summer house. This man has a hug apartment in Vienna and a Summer house – you think you heard him having enough land to go hunting and to keep bees, and you might have cum a little bit just here and there. 

— I would like to know the story, actually. To not repeat her mistakes, you know. 

— You won’t, Liebling. I can already picture you with a ring on your pretty finger. 

— Not so fast. Maybe I don’t believe in marriage. 

— You’re too young to stop believing in it. 

— Way to talk when you’re the divorced one, sir. 

— Shut it, Schatzen. I can still take care of a good girl like you, ja? König leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing over your mouth – it’s wet and swollen, he bite you quite a few times already, and you feel dizzy just from the way his tongue lingers just a second before going in, taking your arousal even more. His hand gently brushes some hair from your face and you giggle from the sensation of his rough fingers on the softness of your skin. It never failed to mesmerize you, just how seasoned and old the colonel might be – and his hands would still tremble as if he is handling the finest porcelain doll in his hands. He has the expression of an anxious, devoted follower – you are not sure how his wife could left him. If he was looking at you like this every day, even as you go through with pregnancy and a piece of shit kid like Paul, you would die before leaving him. 

— Could you two please stop fucking each other? 

— I thought you wanted to move to dorms.

— This is my house too!

— Not on the documents, it’s not. — You can’t just throw me away, dad! — Your new stepmom needs her space. 

König grasps your shoulder as you try to stop them from arguing again – it’s embarrassing enough that you’re fucking your ex’s dad. Colonel makes it a whole fucking show, parading you around as his controversially young girlfriend, making sure that his son will hear your moans and whimpers as you get fucked at every surface of this apartment. You were wondering if you could ask him to move to the Summer house – even with your college and all. You can take a gap year and write a journalist investigation about lonely veterans and their mastery at brewing alcohol. You can take a gap year and try your best in the new trophy wife gig. König’s hand is firm on your shoulder – you know better than to try and argue with him, the silent recognition of authority loud in your head. You sigh, trying your best to just stop yourself from acting too damn weird. It’s their male thing, and you’re just an intruder in a big T-shirt and old leggings. König said it wasn’t his wifey’s – that he burned all of her stuff when she left. Somehow, you find peace in that statement. 

— How could you even…Jesus fucking Christ, this is disgusting. She is my age! — And the most beautiful girl in the world. I can see why you liked her. — She is my girlfriend! — Schatzi came to me in distress and begged me to take her. I think we both knew you weren’t…the best option. You feel more embarrassed with each second of their conversation. You don’t want to listen, you don’t want to take in their words, you feel like a trophy being discarded between two different winners. You feel like a prized mare on a farm – and they won’t even look at you. Too distracted by the sound of their voices, you eat your dinner in somewhat somber peace because you need to eat, after all, and you really like what König cooks. You like what König does most of the time. All of the time. 

Paul storms off the room after a few minutes of bickering. You feel guilty for not stopping him because he was still kinda your boyfriend. You ex-boyfriend. Your asshole incel-ish ex-boyfriend whose assholless literally made you go and sleep with his dilfy dad, and…god, you feel like a whore. Good. Paul was calling you a whore a lot of the time, you may as well take the new name and plaster it in your new badge. 

König’s hand lingers on your back, caressing it gently. You whimper because you feel bad and you’re still in college, and Paul’s disgusted reaction reminds you that fucking a guy in his forties isn’t the best business decision. Even if the said guy is a retired colonel with shitload of money, even if he still goes to work sometimes, just because he wants to feel cool and shoot guns at bad guys, even if this guy buys you cool gifts and he promised to renovate your car or buy you a new one, and he makes plans and takes you to places that don’t make you feel like begging for attention. 

If anything, you feel like he is drowning you with attention. 

His hand lets go of your shoulder – he was holding you so tight the whole conversation, you can sense the bruises forming on your skin. You lick your lips, and he moves to kiss you again. You feel like drowning, you feel like this is all just a dream – and you’re also drunk because gods, König knows how to make a good glass of…something. 

— You shouldn’t act like this. He is your son. 

He laughs dismissingly. He dismisses a lot of things you said – you think it’s the age difference. You think he is just being traditional, and you don’t want to be too nagging. You don’t want to end up like his wife and wake up from the dear you’ve been seeing. 

König’s lips are soft, and you can look past his hands, taking you too possessively – you can close your eyes, and you can just listen to his accent, smiling as his tongue worms its way into your mouth. He is good, you think – at this whole kissing thing. At this whole “Hi there, I’m a retired old dog and I am fucking the girlfriend of my only son. I’m divorced btw” .

He has experience – you know it when he tucks your lip between his teeth, when he massages your shoulders as you spread your legs already, so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing. You never slept much with Paul – his poor excuse of a son – it was always never enough lube, it was always never enough attention, he always needed you to shave or to leave your hair to grow a little bit, it was either your perfume being too sweet or you no wearing anything at all. You thought he would have much more fun masturbating to his anime chicks and poor gaming sessions with his friends. 

But König isn’t like this – every time he drops on his knees to eat you out like a man starving, you feel utter and complete devotion. In his tongue, in his mouth, in his teeth as he sucks little marks into your thighs, making sure you will remember it tomorrow when he will ask you to stay for breakfast and then ride you to whatever you need to come next. Last time he promised to drive you to the library, he took a few turns and took you to some restaurant instead. You gushed about not having proper attire, he was still in his half-uniform and rocking dark cargo pants, and he was apologizing every time his fingers hit that special spot in your cunt as he fingered you during the second course of meals. He said that he was so, sorry about not fucking you properly, about having to resort to public displays like this – and you were too high on loving him to care. You still are. — I don’t think we should be…

— He left. Won’t bother us anymore. 

— I’m not in the mood right now. 

— You’re always in the mood, Schatzen. Enough to drive me crazy. — You’re a pervert. Like Paul. 

— He takes on after his father, ja?

It would alarm you how much contempt he had for his own child right now. Then, again, you were the one who dumped his son for the powerhouse of a dad. Maybe it was your daddy issues, maybe it was your dumb reasoning and the summer break that you didn’t want to spend with your family. Good thing you’re spending it with the other. 

König’s face is buried between your legs, his teeth tugging on the soft fabric, forcing your leggings down. God, it feels good – he is so high on wanting you, can’t even wait to take off your clothes properly. You never had a man wanting you so badly before – it’s addicting, it’s crushing, it makes you feel like a goddess among men. Makes you feel wanted, a thing that your ex never did. 

You forget about guilt when he kisses your lower tummy, when his lips trace down to your cunt, taking sharp licks through your panties. You wore them this morning, something from a new lacy set he bought – one of the only ones that weren’t torn off from your body the moment you took them on. He always wanted you to make these little fashion shows for him, making good use of his money – you weren’t a sugar baby, not on paper, you still clutched to the last traces of your dignity, but he did buy you a lot of gifts. 

— S’ pretty for me, Liebling. The prettiest girl in the world.

— I assume after…af..ter your wife. 

You giggle when he frowns, his rugged face filled with concern. He doesn’t like jokes about his marriage – you don’t want to ask him about it because it would mean waking up from a dream you want to experience over and over again, but you heard what Paul was talking about. What his mom told him about. you heard enough to know that kissing a man like König is a safety hazard and a liability that you can’t afford, but it’s warm, and he is rich, and you don’t want to go back to your part-time job this season. You want to be dumb and you want to be young – right now, you’re doing both. — Don’t be so dumb, Schatzi. Although it suits you. 

— I’m not dumb! 

— Nein, you’re not. Just silly. 

— You just call me a different type of dumb. 

— I like it when you’re dumb. Makes you cuter. 

König is awkward and funny, and he buys you things that you could never afford. He is mysterious and kind – to you, not his enemies – and he uses German words randomly in his phrases because he knows the accent, and the pronunciation drives you crazy. You never thought of thinking of yourself as a dilf hunter but, hell, here you are. With his dark ginger stubble – and grey streaks that make you go wild every time you look at him – between your thighs. It’s tickling, and it’s a bit irritating, and he will rub some calming lotion in your skin after this, making sure to cover every inch of your skin with some expensive cream that he knows jackshit about, but you wanted it, and so he went out and bought it. Gosh, you felt dumb even asking him for this. 

He traces his kisses along your thighs, tongue lingers to press against your wet, swollen folds. Flirting in front of Paul made you embarrassingly hot, solidifying you as a shitty, bad, horny person who needs fat cock stuffed in your leaking pussy. You lick your lips, and you tremble when he pushes his tongue inside. He is starving, pushy with all of his needs – makes you almost beg for it, like a pet he took from the street. 

— I want to take you to the Summer house next week. 

You open your eyes, shocked. It’s nothing, really, you shouldn’t be this surprised about him wanting to show off his other properties. You want to check out his wine cellar and how sturdy the furniture is. You want to see if he had deers running around the house. If he had any pictures of his family – and if you could ever hope to compete with his ex-wife. It’s a petty competition, but you don’t have much to do and to think about. It’s obvious the love here won’t last until the end of the break, and you want to get as much from it as possible. Maybe even some hot bikini picks at his pool. He has to have one. — What if I have plans, sir? 

It’s innocent and you play the role well. You think some of your friends wanted to hang out or make a study group for the upcoming semester. You are a good girl at heart, with nice grades and a perfectly played-out future, and not as many working opportunities as you may like, but you could manage with something. Writing a killer essay about your life with a smoke show during Summer would be easy with someone like him. 

He laughs, his hand lightly smacks your butt. You bite your lip and whimper, not accustomed to pain feeling this good. 

— You will change them, little one. For the whole Summer. 

— I wanted to study. 

You moan when he lightly presses his tongue on your swollen clit, kissing and licking it. Slick runs down your legs, and he collects it with his mouth. You whimper again, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes – the sensation is sudden and overwhelming, makes you get your hands in his hair and slightly tug. He groans, pleasure from having you so active, so participating is overwhelming. He loves you, loves you, loves you, adores you. God, you’re beautiful. And so, so restrained – just his special good girl. Only for him. — You can study at our house. 

— You mean you and your ex’s house. 

He smacks you again for the foul language – although you know you didn’t even curse, he is still punishing you. In the lightest way possible, of course, you know you won’t handle anything too harsh – still, you feel nice and warm when he isn’t just eating you out, but also smacks you for speaking in such unpretty words again. 

You don’t even register the way he called the house yours too. All too dumb for this, again. 

— I mean our house, Schatzen. Just you and your daddy, ja? You worry too much about studying. 

— I want a nice job. Without…distractions. 

He slips one finger in your warm, tight hole – even just one digit is enough to make you shiver, clenching it like a sloppy whore. He is big in every way – just two of his fingers are bigger than a normal cock, and no, you didn’t want to compare a son with his father, but even Paul’s cock, as big as it was, was still way thinner than his father’s. 

— Why you need a job? 

— Not everyone are retired military. I need money. 

— You have me. 

— I d…don’t want to be a sugar baby. Sir. 

— I have no problems with being your daddy, Schatzen.

König is build like a powerhouse – when he slips just the tip into you, ignoring all previous preparation because, by god, you both need to feel connected, he is dragging you on top of the table, tossing aside the dirty dishes with remains of his perfectly cooked dinner…and you feel like home. Almost. 

You imagine waking up with his cock every morning, and with the nice cup of coffee only he can make. You imagine him gushing about rebuilding the house and working on his tight and neat desk job at the mercenary company – something about instructing, dumb recruits, only the most elite missions as an operator in retirement, creating strategies and tactics for the warfare – and thinking that, wow, your husband is really cool. You shouldn’t be thinking this because this is just a summer fling. Your relationships with Paul weren’t too serious either, you just didn’t want to be alone. 

König gently caresses your fingers, whispering something about numbers – you think you could recognize the word for a ring a bit later when he was making a call to some friend. In German, of course, you don’t quite understand it, but you worm your warm on his lap like a spoiled cat, purring on his crotch like a good fucking girl. But it was a while later. 

Now, you’re gasping and panting, his cock spreading you open and stuffing you like the poor bird he was cooking for dinner. You know you won’t be able to walk after a short while – would probably have to spend the day at his house, with him cooing and gushing about your sore body while he is quietly proud of himself. If you’re lucky, you could convince him to let you go in the evening. If you’re not, he will ask you to stay the night, and maybe even a bit more, and then he will just get the bag with your stuff from your room in the dorm by himself, and then… — What do you think about getting married in August?

Maybe, you do know why his wife left him. 

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw ;; smut, revenge sex(?), oral sex, fingering, breeding kink

Poor you.

All of it was so wrong. Fucking your ex-boyfriend's dad like a whore. You really thought you were so smart, trying to get back at your cheating boyfriend by fucking his big and strong daddy. You always knew he had daddy issues, knew he couldn't cum without crying about how his daddy didn't love him and that he was so pathetic.

You did try to give a shit, up until you found out your boyfriend was a cheating man whore. Didn't even know how to properly use his cock but his wallet was fat enough that no girl even cared. But for some reason you did. Oh you cared sooo much.

So much that when you were on a dating app in hunt for a rebound, you couldn't help but indulge on the very much so older man who resembled your ex-boyfriend's dad. And what was your luck that it actually was him. You planned it to be just one single fuck, probably expecting him to be as had as his son was.

God, you were so wrong. He told you to call him König, promised he would never fuck you on the first date, and that you weren't allowed to pay for yourself. A gentleman that held the door open for you and rewarded you with sweet kisses to the back of your hand. Called you "schatz" and made you hold his hand the first time he ate you out.

Your ex never did that. But his daddy did.

And he was good. Enough to make you whine and cry on his bed (saying you were too pretty to fuck in a car like a whore). His tongue would violate your throbbing clit, suckling and mouthing it relentlessy. Even dragging up and down from your dribbling slit, grinning whenever you'd push his head further down. Grind on the stubble of his chin even if it burned a bit. König made you work for your rewards.

His fingers were great, punishingly so. You whimper that he was simply too much, but he knew his good girl could take him. All of him, you just needed some prep. Some rubs against that gummy spot inside of you until your slick ran down his wrist. You were so easy to excite. Such a treat for a filthy old pervert like König.

And your pussy sucked his cock so well, squeezing with each little bounce he forced you to make on his lap. Sure it hurt you little tummy, but the moment he released his icky semen into your fertile womb you knew there was no use denying that you were a slut for your ex boyfriend's dad.

[konigsblog]

obsessive jealous ex könig? :3

this is calling my name, sweet anon... (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

TW: HINTS AT NON-CON AND KIDNAPPING AT THE END. MDNI 18+

PHOTO CREDIT: @GLUTR_R ON X/🐦

Ex-boyfriend-König is weirdly obsessive and stalkerish, even after your breakup.

You broke up with him because of his creepiness and how overly protective he was. A part of you hoped he'd finally mature at some point, but König's presence always lingered, no matter how many times you pleaded with him to leave you be. Seeing his tear-stained face look back at you broke your heart, but you knew that this was for the better.

Although, König can smell another man's presence, the smell of tobacco lingering on your skin when he got close to you. You didn't smoke, or at least, he wasn't aware that you did. Only when he saw you on the streets with another man, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, did he realise that you'd finally moved on - that you weren't just playing hard to get.

The horrific sight absolutely tore König apart. You noticed that he wasn't lingering around often and finally felt free from his desperate gaze. Meanwhile, König was sitting there in his apartment, falling into a depressive slump. He weeped and wailed every single day, gazing over at his shrine, the used and crusted panties he'd use for masturbation, along with other things he'd collected, like a necklace or your hair. König spent hours fantasising about you, pretending you two were together again. He tried to soothe and comfort himself, to no avail. Only you managed to calm König down, and now, here he was, finally having to be independent after leaning on your shoulder for years.

Not for long though. Soon enough, he'd have you back where you belong, in bed with him, your legs thrown over his broad shoulders, hitting places that useless bastard would never hit, whether you wanted it or not. He'd stain your skin with his scent, replacing that foul smell of another male's touch.

Only König was allowed to have you, only he was allowed to love you.

[uhohdad]

loser könig ‘comforting’ reader after she had a bad breakup/failed date…

(18+) Loser!König x Heartbroken!Reader

WARNING: MANIPULATIVE & COERCIVE BEHAVIOR

Loser!König’s brows are creased in sympathy, cooing reassurances in a soft, compassionate tone - but he truly could not be happier. He has to bite back the smile just begging to make the muscles in his face sore.

Loser!König hated your boyfriend anyway, such an arrogant jerk he was. König would treat you so much better, he would never make you cry. You can’t see it now, but you’re much better off.

Loser!König doesn’t dare miss his opportunity to touch you, rubbing your back soothingly as you cry, his hands dipping lower than they should on each descent of his gentle traces.

Loser!König’s cock is straining against his pants, and he can hardly bring himself to feel ashamed about it. The sound of your stuttered sobs and the sight of tears streaming down your face has his cock at full attention, a bead of arousal forming at the tip and threatening to stain his underwear.

Loser!König scoots closer to you, pressing his thigh to yours as he slings his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.

Loser!König sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, holding back a needy groan when your palm rests on his chest. He can feel your plush, clothed breasts graze against him with each of your faltered breaths.

Loser!König rests his cheek on the top of your head, eyes lulling as he inhales you. You’re intoxicating, he’s high off the scent of your shampoo and your touch, his cock throbbing with each breath of you he draws.

Loser!König will fix you a drink to make you feel better. Loosen you up a little. You’re so weak and vulnerable right now, he’s hoping that your ex not only just drove you into his arms, but into his bedroom as well.

Loser!König <3

[simplyvyn]

NO ONE LIKE YOU.

You and Kaiser had a pretty rough breakup. Well, for him. You knew he'd be back on the hook. There's plenty of fish in the sea, he says. Guess you're a dolphin.

M. Kaiser x reader - 1.1k wc

Warnings: exes to lovers, very ooc Kaiser but in a good way i promise, german! reader

꒷꒦⋆⑅˚₊┈ • ┈ ・ʚɞ ・ ┈ • ┈₊˚⑅⋆꒷꒦⋆⑅˚₊┈ • ┈ ・ʚɞ꒷꒦

"Stop being so damn petty. You're not THAT special anyways!" Kaiser yelled.

"Is asking for a little bit of proof that you DO love me, that hard? I barely even see you because you've been so focused up with Isagi, praying for his downfall and shit." You replied back. You kept your tone low, not wanting any of the people at your hotel hear you both.

"You don't have to see me all day! Y/N, we've been together for at least a year and a half! You can't handle living without me?"

"I can! But you just don't show that we have been together these days!"

"Alright, i'll make things easier for you. Lets not be together then. Leave. I can find someone who's not petty and clingy as you." He said.

You scoff. "Me? Clingy? Okay, I'll admit i do have clingy feelings but you cannot find anyone like me. Someone who can last long with your attitude. I'd like to see you try." You are as competitive as your boyf- ex. Boyfriend. But you wanted to see. A little challenge wont mind right?

"Pfft. Theres plenty of fish in the sea. Watch and learn." He said.

That's how your little relationship ended. It's been at least 8 months, 2 weeks and 6 days approximately since your break up with him. Your in your couch, sitting idly scrolling through the channels of your TV. your phone was beside you, it was 11:41 PM when a notification popped up on your phone. From an unknown number.

??: You win.

You: hm?

??: No damn fish can compare to you, liebes.

You grin with victory. You already knew who it was as you sigh and put your phone down on the couch, letting him do the action. It was just minutes later until you heard banging on the door. You jump from it and walk to the door, you were hesitating wether you should open it. You already knew it was him, why were you hesitating? Heat flew through your cheeks and the air seems hotter than usual, your thoughts were immediately shut off when someone spoke from the other side of the door.

"I know your on the other side of the door Schatz, open up." He spoke which made you immediately open the door.

"Yet you still have an ego to talk to me like that. Better yet, to even talk to me. Why are you here, König?" You held on your door knob while tilting your head.

"I want to talk to you." You already knew. You sighed, your chest arising then dropping as you did. "Get inside."

You went to your kitchen to grab water and you didn't notice Kaiser following you. Like a helpless dog.

"Why are you following me?" You ask as you turn around. "I said i wanted to talk to you. Of course i need to see you."

You drank on the cup of your water and turned to him once again and you leaned on your kitchen counter.

"Okay... speak."

He was in a white button-up shirt with black pants and a watch on his wrist. He seemed quite shy. Embarassed? Something like that. He put his hand behind his neck and averted your gaze. "Look, i don't wanna admit this but I'll go straight to the point.. you we're right."

Your head tilting in confusion. Well, not really, you were just pretending. "On what?"

He sighed before look at you. "That.. i cant find anyone... like you..." You definitely heard that. But you just need him to say it a bit louder.

"Hmm?"

"I said.. I can't find anyone like you...."

"Speak up Liebling.. What did you say?" You slightly leaned closer to him tilting your head and putting a hand to your ear, pretending that you need to hear him more clear. Of course, he noticed that.

The next thing you will know, he pulled you by the wrist, pushing you to the counter behind you to pin you. Leaning closer to your ear, you can feel his hot breath in your ear as he whispered;

"I won't repeat this again. For the past ten months that i have dated other people other than you, has been pain. No one can keep up with my egoistic personality as much as you can, hübsch.." You can feel him smirk on your ear. even though you can't see it, it sent heat waves through your face. Simple words from him made you so flustered.

With his hand holding your wrist, the other hand of his went up to your face, holding your chin and looked down on you.

"Well, of course no one was more prettier than you that's why I came here to see you, Mein liebe."

"Hah! Yeah, for calling me clingy, it won't be easy getting me back Kaiser. And I especially won't make it easier for you." You said.

But it only really takes you to seal away to him was just a simple kiss. He put a peck in your lips, then your temples and your neck. He picked you up and sat you on the kitchen counter and continued kissing your lips, it was more intimate now, he was closer, chest to chest. Why would he be worried about anything? Your kissing him back, it was already obvious to him that you want him back. Hish hands we're on your hand holding it, the other was on your hip to keep you in place.

It seems liked he doesn't want you to let go, well you don't plan to either way, its been so long since you felt like this in 10 months. You've been definitely missing out these past months with doing nothing about your love life. And thanks to Kaiser, it doesn't seem like it anymore.

The first one to pull away was you. Panting out of breath, as you look down but he was only looking at you so addictingly. Did he really miss you even the times he dated other people? He didn't know he misses you that much. He kissed you on your cheek, forehead and a little peck on the lips, his grip on your waist tightened as you held on his shoulder.

"Kommst du zu mir zurück, Liebling?" He asked.

"I told you, It'll probably take the same time as how you wanted to find someone that can keep up with you."

He frowned a bit looking down, but you cup his face.

"Wenn Sie mich morgen zum Mittagessen einladen, ist die Zeit vielleicht kürzer"

And he nodded eagerly, "Anything for my queen."

Translations: Liebes (dear) / Schatz (sweetheart) / Konig (king) / Liebling (darling) / hübsch (pretty) / Mein Liebe (My love) / Kommst du zu mir zurück, Liebling? (Will you come back to me, darling?) / Wenn Sie mich morgen zum Mittagessen einladen, ist die Zeit vielleicht kürzer (If you invite me to lunch tomorrow, maybe the time will be shorter)

A/N: its finally finished.. some translations might be wrong guys mbmb, lmk if there is rqs r open btw mwamwa! kinda wanna write for kageyama nut idk what prompt lol. lmk if u guys have any idea ><

[latenightdaydreams]

Hi, im having a hard Time, and thought about a Kong scenario, where reader goes to Best friend könig crying cause her boyfriend asked her for a Time/break up, so könig consoles her (you know what I mean) and sends a video of the two of them to reader's ex

I hope things get better for you, whatever it is that you're going through. Know you deserve the best in life and love. Please remember to care for yourself and I hope you have a great day/night💖

More Than Friends (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v, recording

1.8k word count

📹

.

.

The second König heard your voice on the phone call, he knew what you were going to say happened. While his heart breaks to hear you like this, he’s relieved to hear that toxic man is officially out of your life. He rushed out of his office to the garage, jumping into his SUV before rushing to be by your side.

You lay on your couch in a ball sobbing. This isn’t how you expected your day to go and you’re completely blindsided by your boyfriend’s decision to end things. König is the only person you know would be there for you without judgment, someone that can help distract you from the pain.

About thirty minutes later, there is a knock at your front door. You stand to answer it, wiping your tears onto your oversized t-shirt. On the other side of the door, König stands with his mask off, a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and a box of candies. He has a soft smile on his face as his eyes land on your sad, puffy face.

“Liebling.” König steps forward and wraps his arms around you, bringing you in for a fight embrace. “Come on, let’s go sit.”

König closes and locks your front door, his eyes following your body as you walk to your bedroom. He follows you and sits with you on the edge of your bed, placing the flowers and candy on the nightstand next to him. As he turns his body to face you, he looks over your face with a small smile on his lips.

“You want to talk or cuddle?” He asks, knowing that sometimes you just need to be held.

“Snuggles, please.”

König nods, leaning back onto the bed against your pillows. You climb on the bed snuggling up to him, resting your head on his chest; his massive arms wrap tightly around you. He peppers kisses on the top of your head, enjoying having you this close. It will hurt for now, but in the long run, you’re better off without him. Eventually, you’ll see it too.

“I just feel so stupid.” Your voice cracks as you speak.

“You aren’t stupid. He is, has always been. You’re much better off without him in your life,” König says comfortingly. He moves his fingers to your cheeks to wipe away tears that stain your soft skin.

You tilt your head up to look at him. His pale blue eyes meet yours with a warm smile across his thin lips. He continues to caress your face, enjoying having your body pressed against his. “Don’t look at me with those eyes.” König chuckles softly.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, the first time you’ve smiled since the breakup. Your eyes linger on his for a while. He’s always been soothing to you. His voice, smell, touch. Without warning, you move up slightly and press your lips against his.

König moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, holding you into the kiss. Sparkes flow throughout his whole body, he’s been wanting to kiss you for years. While he loves this, he pulls back, wanting to make sure that you’re okay with this.

“Liebling, I don’t want you to make impulsive decisions in the heat of the moment.” His eyes study your face trying to read your expression.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.” You assure him. It’s true. There has always been a feeling between the both of you, but neither has ever made a move due to being nervous about ending the friendship.

That’s all the König needed to hear; he leans back into the kiss. One hand slips down to your body, squeezing your hip, pressing you against his body. Slowly, he creeps his hand up your side and moves underneath your baggy shirt. He’s pleasantly surprised to find your breasts free without the confines of a bra, cupping one in his large palm and sliding his thumb over your nipple.

“Let me make you feel better, Liebling. Just lay there and enjoy the pleasure.” His lips begin to trail down your jawline to your neck, leaving sloppy open mouth kisses in his wake. In a slow fluid motion, he pushes you on to your back.

König grabs the hem of your shirt with his teeth, lifting it up until your stomach is exposed. Instantly, his lips continue the trail of messy kisses over your body. His hands continue to push up your shirt until your breasts are in full view for him.

“Schön.” He whispers as he leans down and kisses around one of your areolas, licking your nipple with a small flick. The moan that he hears from you pushes him to continue. His lips wrapping around your nipple and suckling while his other hand comes up and squeezes the other breast. In an instant he changes direction and kisses back down your stomach, nipping at your skin as he goes down.

“May I?” König has his fingers wraps around your waist band.

Your eyes meet his, nodding your head. His fingers pull down the elastic of your leggings and underwear. He swallows hard as his eyes fall on your soft mound, instinctively licking his lips as he grows excited to finally be able to taste your cunt.

König leans back in the bed, pulling your leggings all the way off your stunning legs. He holds your right leg up kissing from your ankle up to your thigh. You watch with eager eyes, every kiss feeling euphoric on your sensitive flesh. There is no time wasted as he reaches your pussy. Your natural musk consumes his nostrils, his body has never craved something so much.

Your right leg rests on König’s shoulder as he lowers himself between your thighs. His tongue sticks out, parting your wet folds with his tongue. The second he tastes a drop of you, he drives in. His face becomes squashed between your supple thighs. You brush your fingers through his blonde hair, letting out loud moans of ecstasy. Sucking your clit into his mouth, he moves his head back, letting you go with a pop.

König gently removes your leg from his shoulder and sits up right. He quickly pulls his shirt off, going into his pants pocket to remove his cellphone and place it on the bed next to the two of you. A lustful gaze consumes him as he looks you up and down.

“That man is a fool for letting you go.” He says finally pulling his pants down and tossing them off to the side. You can see his boner straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs, he’s absolutely massive. König can see your eyes widen as he pulls down his underwear. His heavy cock springing free.

“Wow…”

A cocky grin plays at König’s lips as he watches you. “Big, ja?” He chuckles as he positions himself between your thighs.

With his large hands, he grabs both on your legs and spreads them open. He slaps his cock on your wet pussy, letting out a sigh at the feeling of your wet warmth simply touching him. His eyes focus on yours as he lines himself up with your entrance, he wants to see the pleasure on your face once he slips in.

As he pushes his hips forward, he can feel your tight cunt squeeze around him, struggling to accept him. Your face scrunches with pleasure as König buries himself deep inside. Your hands reach out for the bedsheets, holding on tightly.

“Oh, fuck!” Your moan is almost a scream.

König’s eyes drop down to your pussy, watching the way your lips stretch to accommodate his size. “I bet your little ex would be devastated to see you’re celebrating the break up with your best friend's monster cock.” He teases as he pulls back, slamming himself inside of you again.

“He’d…cry.” You try to joke but the pleasure is simply too overwhelming. Pathetic mewls flee from you with every single thrust forward. His pace is slow but harsh.

“Maybe we should send him a little video and show him how to actually please a woman.”

You blush at his suggestion, but the thought of possibly hurting him felt too good. You know his cock is less than average and has a delicate ego. He was always insecure about your friendship with someone like König so, why not?

König grabs his cellphone after you give him the ‘ok’. He pulls open his camera app and holds it up. On the screen he focuses on your creamy cunt already beginning to gush around König. One finger taps the screen and records himself.

“Fucking perfect tight pussy. All mine.” His words almost come out in a growl as his pace quickens. He pulls back, slamming himself into you, causing you to let out the most desperate pleas to be fucked König has ever heard. “There you go, Liebling. Beg for me.”

He records the way your breasts sway in rhythm with his motion, your hands not knowing what to do as you cling on to him and the bed for support. Your velvety walls suck him in and squeeze him as his cock bullies its way in and out of you.

König pulls out quickly to prop the cell phone up on your night stand, making sure he can still see the two of you. He quickly climbs back on your bed, man handling you so effortlessly as he turns you over. Your ass props up in the air as your face rests on the soft bed underneath you.

He shoves himself back into you, hands gripping your ass tightly as he begins to buck forward into you. Instantly, you feel yourself flutter around him.Your head lifts up as you cry out in pleasure, one of his hands reaching around the front of your neck and pulling you back to him.

“König! Fuck!”

“Ja, scream my name, Liebling.” His voice is shaky as he tries to breathe. He focuses on ruining you for any other man. Especially so your ex can’t try to come back and take you from him.

“König!”

You moan out his name like a mantra. Your legs tremble, body becoming tense as a steady trickle drips from your body, wetting your bed. “Oh, my god!” Panting and eyes rolling back, König doesn’t let up for you to recover.

Your ex sits in his room, stood up by the woman he was cheating on you with, with tears burning his eyes. He can’t seem to look away as he watches your best friend, König, make your squirt multiple times. Seeing you move on so quickly hurts him, but what’s worse is knowing he can’t compare to König. The primal way you moan, eagerly suck König’s cock…he’s never seen you act that way before.

He quickly tries to call you once the video is over, pacing back and forth in his room with adrenalin flowing through his body. The line rings twice before he’s greeted with a thick Austrian accent on the other end.

“Hallo?” König’s voice sounds smug.

[sweetiecutie]

Ex!Boyfriend König who is NOT okay with your relationships ending. Maybe he was a bit controlling, yes; maybe possessive as well, but there’s nothing in this world people can’t solve by talking the problem out. Yes, you did talk it out three times before, but he will change this time, he swears!

Ex!Boyfriend König who litters your phone with numerous voice and text messages begging for forgiveness, several calls coming in daily, every single one of them ignored blatantly. When you finally get fed up and decide to block him on all messengers - König starts writing you emails. And when you mark him as spam, he finds new way of reaching you out. A notifications from bank app pops up in the top of your screen, 100€ had been transferred to your account, purpose of payment saying “Baby, let’s just talk about it”

Ex!Boyfriend König who keeps showing up at your front porch, never once failing to hand in posh bouquets of your favourite flowers before practically pleading for you to take him back. You’re his whole world, his very life and everything König has ever cared about, he feels so empty without you - can’t you see what you do to him? How miserable he is without you?

Ex!Boyfriend König who keeps close eye on whoever there is that may be brave enough to ask you out, not scared one bit to step in and break motherfucker’s jaw for coming way too close to you for man’s liking. You may have broken up, but you’re still his, and there’s nothing in this world König hates more than sharing.

Ex!Boyfriend König who is a literal killing machine, able to snap spines as if they were twigs; a vicious 2.10 meter tall monster with anger issues, a fucking Colonel. And yet, he turns into pathetic puddle before your feet, stepping on his own pride, begging for the first time in his whole fucking life. But it’s all perfectly worth it if in the end you’ll be his once again, because there’s no König without his sweet angel<3

[universitypenguin]

can you recommend any COD fics? I’ve become interested

Thank you so much for asking me this question!

It turns out that I have a lot of fic recs… I just kept adding and adding to the list. Putting this together took like two days because I just kept going and going 🤣

There are smut links below - I didn’t bother labeling them specifically, so preceded with caution. As usual, read all of the respective author’s warnings before reading their work!

Also, I tried not to tag anyone twice but I probably missed some doubles. If any links are broken, please let me know!

Alejandro Vargas

Pros & Cons - @homicidal-slvt

Best Friend’s Dad - @allemantheias

NSFW Alphabet - @ghostsvacuumcleaner

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Whiskers & Wishes - @sageyxbabey

Break Up With Your Toxic Boyfriend - @gloomwitchwrites

Baby It’s Cold Inside - @kyletogaz

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts - @soapsgf

Better Not to Know (ch. 1) - @random-thot-generator

Simon “Ghost” Riley

I’m So In Love With You - @nomadstucky

Break Up With Your Toxic Boyfriend- @/gloomwitchwrites

Please, Love Me - @/rowarn

Through Me (The Flood) - @/peachesofteal

Ex!Husband Simon - @oceantornadoo

Baby, It’s Cold Inside - @kyletogaz

Plane Crash - @ceilidho

Simon’s Girl - @audisive

Ghost & his tiny gf - @/ramagallery

Roommate!Simon - @schrodingerscougar

Snappy Reader - @lovelyghst

Ex-Husband!Simon - @cntloup

Simon Riley x Soap’s Sister - @seresinhangmanjake

Period Sex w/ Simon - @cntloup

New Year’s Fireworks - @i-am-hungry-24-7

Love Language - @yeahjadefinitelyfeel

Simon’s Love - @tojisun

John “Soap” MacTavish

Break Up With Your Toxic Boyfriend - @/gloomwitchwrites

Enamored - @/rowarn

Soulmate AU - @all-purpose-dish-soap

Second Chance - @bookbrokelibrarian

Virgin x Soap - @/captainfern

Johnny Has Amnesia - @manticore-fangs

Safe Word - @lunarw0rks

An Interesting Errand - @mi-i-zori

Captain John “Bravo-6” Price

Good Fences - @the-californicationist

The first chapter of the “Good Fences” Fluffubury series. I’ll list the next few chapters below. This is one of my favorite Captain Price stories, it’s so good! 🥰

Good Fences / ch. 2

Good Fences / ch. 3

Break Up With Your Toxic Boyfriend - @/gloomwitchwrites

The Ocean - @peachesofteal

The Neighbor - @ivymarquis

Stay Away - @captainfern

Bear Shifter! Price (part 1) - @/ceilidho

Phillip Graves

You’re Being Detained - @writersdrug

The House Sitter - @shadowlali

Overstimulation w/ Graves - @/captainfern

My Favorite - @aphrodisiaxcunt

König

Experience - @rowarn

Bad Boyfriend - @lunarw0rks

All of the 141

Just Like Dad - @/gloomwitchwrites

Sex Pollen - @shotmrmiller

Self Esteem - @waiting-so-long

Showering With the 141 - @mushies-stories

Drunk Reader (Part 1) - @mushies-stories

Reader w/ Amnesia - @bookbrokelibrarian

Love Bites - @l0velylecter

Reactions to you flinching - @empresskylo

Controversially Younger GF - @sweet-as-an-angel

Author Recommendations

Author Recs - (courtesy of @/captainfern)

[imsilay]

How about König rescuing his obsession from an abusive boyfriend and then claiming her while he watches helpless?

LATIBULE

mdni, cw: abuse, cursing, hair pulling, punching, beating, broken bones? (idk im terrible at tagging :/ )

word count: 0.8k

i’m gonna make pt.2 :) edit: POSTED! here

cr: paldedpul on twt (i’m not sure)

Your cheek burned and you gasped with pain when your boyfriend hit you across the face. “You fucking slut. You’re no good for anything.” he hissed and grabbed a fistful of your hair. He yanked it back and caused so much pain that your mouth fall agape. You tried to reach his hand and push him away from your hair but he didn’t gave you time to reach. Another hand found your throat and he pinned your back against his chest, pulling your hair and squeezing the oxygen out of your lungs. All you could do was squirm and cry. You felt so pathetic, helpless. The man you loved was taking his anger out on you because things didn’t go as he wanted.

At the time you thought everything was over, the door broke open. Your boyfriend’s head snapped towards the door and his grip loosened. Your body fell down and you coughed, gasping for air. Before you could process what was going on, your boyfriend’s body fall next to you with a loud thud. Then someone sat on his stomach and punched him in the face, hard, so hard that you heard his jaw break. The man didn’t stop. He was furious. How could that bastard hit his little one? How could he hurt you while König was afraid to touch your hair? Who did he think he is? The only reason König let him to be with you was the smile on your face when you talked about him. And yet, that bastard was here, hurting his little one. A deadly mistake. Punch after punch, König mercilessly hit your boyfriend’s face without caring about his pleading.

“‘m gonna break your bones until you pass out from the pain. Then i will do it again, again and again. Until there’s no broken bone in your body. Arschloch.” König hissed. Then he grabbed him by the collar and pulled his body up, as if he was a bag of potatoes. König threw him in the chair, his face was covered in blood and he was groaning in pain. “But first…” König forced himself to look at you. His heart ached as he saw your tears. That was the last thing you deserved. He just wanted to snap that stupid boyfriend’s -not anymore, now he was a living dead- neck. “Beg forgiveness from meine Königin.” (My queen.) König grabbed his hair and pulled his head up to face you. Your boyfriend was crying and begging for forgiveness from you for half an hour. Whenever you tried to say it was enough, König pulled his hair harder and forced him to beg with a broken jaw some more. It was just the beginning of the endless pain Konig would cause him.

After he decided it was enough, Konig tied him down to the chair and walked to you. With his hands covered in your ex’s blood and trembling uncontrollably, König fell on his knees and embraced your body tightly, until every centimeter of your body was covered by his massive frame. "Don't cry." he mumbled like it was hurting him physically to see you in pain. "What that arschloch did to you?" He kissed the top of your head and caressed your hair with his trembling hand. He was so afraid to touch you, you barely felt the hand on your hair. "It hurt." you sobbed. As your cries increased, you clung to his body, burying your head into his neck and wetting his t-shirt with your tears - he hugged you tighter. “Meine Königin…” he whimpered like an injured animal. “Don’t cry, bitte. I beg you.” his whole body tensed with the want for your ex’s blood. He wanted to draw blood, to cause pain from beyond that bastard caused you. “‘m gonna kill that bastard.” he mumbled and kissed your hair again. He was using all his willpower not to fall for his anger. “Say something.” he buried his head into your hair and held you tighter. Trying to contain his anger. Hearing you cry was worse than the torment he received in his past. It was worse than the time when they cut a deep wound on his chest or pressed hot iron on his back. He wished for another wound rather than seeing you cry that much.

By the time your sobs stopped he was at the edge of going crazy. “König.” you finally mumbled and his heart skipped a beat. “Ja, meine Königin?” he immediately answered, like if you command him to kill he wouldn’t think twice. Your ex’s pained groans filled your ears as you lifted your head from his neck and looked into his eyes. “How did you know?” you questioned. Because you haven’t told anyone about your abusive boyfriend. "I thought i was going to... " he shushed you by slamming his lips into yours, your head was now inside his mask. He pulled your body into his lap and hungrily kissed your lips. He was gentle though. The sudden want to possess and claim you as his was overwhelming, but he didn’t want to force you for anything after your traumatizing experience. "Let’s get you out of here, meine Königin." he mumbled after the kiss and kissed the bruised skin of your neck.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i love to reply all of them :>

also i want to thank y’all for all support on my previous post. it really made my day :’)

[writersdrug]

Mourning Dove

König x Reader (WIP)

Summary: You'd never seen it coming - the apocalypse. Sickness everywhere, spreading like fire and taking out nations, faster than you could understand it. You were fortunate enough that your current boyfriend was prepared for this, and that he had every intention to bring you along with him on the journey of a lifetime - staying alive. But, as more of his intentions come to light under the stress of the world's end, you realize that staying with him is just another path to death. You decide that death to the virus is better than enduring this life with him.

Except, after gathering your courage, some supplies, and putting on your strong, independent facade, you're still unprepared - and now, alone, so you think. So when you stumble upon a cabin and its owner, a rather large, ex-military brute, you're desperate for any and all help you can get.

He tells you that, in this neck of the woods, strange things happen. Stranger than the virus. You see it for yourself a few times, things that make icy terror claw its way into your chest. You start to wonder... did you make the right decision? Are you truly safe? Can you trust this man, and all that he tells you? Do you have any other choice?

Contains: horror themes, A/B/O dynamics, gore, death, smut, rough sex, delusion and gaslighting, mentions of abusive relationship, talk of physical abuse, animal death

Chapter 1. A New Path

Chapter 2. Dead End

Chapter 3. Pursuit

Chapter 4. The Cabin

Chapter 5. The Man

A/N: This is still very much a WIP and there will for sure be more chapters, but I wanted to try my hand at a KönigxReader with a horror theme. I also need a palate cleanser to help me write my other stories. First chapter should be coming up soon!

Let me know if you'd like to be on the taglist!

[gremlingottoosilly]

Ex-husband!König having shared custody over his child(ren) with reader. Him turning them into your mini bodyguards whenever you try bringing a new man home, because no one compares to their actual father!

Konig actually being a decent father if only to use your child to spy on you. Come on, you really thought that your little stunt would go unnoticed? Your ex-husband might not be the best parent out there, but his savings accounts and property are more than enough to sway the court into giving you shared custody - almost 50/50 if it weren't for his contracts. He can basically pick your kids up whenever you're not completely opposed to it...and you can't really deny them a father. It's not their fault he is an obsessive asshole who was seriously considering putting your children into online classes because he didn't want their dearest mommy to go out too much. You love Konig, this is the problem. He loves you three times more, and he loves your children - but his love is the main problem here. You want it, yes, somehow, but you don't want to spend the rest of your life explaining to your kids that mommy and daddy love each other, but if they ever find themselves in a similiar romantic situation, they'd need to call the police. Konig, however, makes loving him more and more difficult day after day. First, it was little meetings he'd establish - you somehow always end up in his bed, forgetting about new dumb boyfriend you tried to have, while your ex is too busy with his face buried in your cunt. You can't moan because the kids had just fell asleep. You try your best to look composed after, but your heart breaks every time you see hope in their eyes. Mommy and daddy are back together, or so it seems. And, well, your children are wonderful. They are chaotic, like all kids are, but they were never...difficult. Until now, apparently - they are good in daycare, they have friends and silly pets, they are by all means functional members of society...yet, every time you bring a new guy home, they become the most hateful, feral little gremlins. You have to drop them off to their father's place, and then Konig would ask why you're in such a rush, then you would get second thoughts about the date, then he would find his way to your lips and now you have your kids watching cartoons while their father is fucking you in the bedroom. Just like before... Somehow, you yourself started to believe that divorce was just a hysterical stunt and everyone, including your toddlers, knew you'd be back together. You just feel dumb being the last one to acknowledge this.

[koenigsbleachedshirt]

Best friend! König, who watches you intently at the new year's party, waiting for your boyfriend to show up.

Best friend! König, who can't ignore how pained you look when you see your boyfriend kissing his ex as the fireworks go off.

Best friend! König, who quickly walks over to you and grants you that midnight kiss you deserve.

Best friend! König, who takes you home that night and comforts you through your pain.

Inspired by this bot on Poe.