#farmhand könig

[konigsblog]

farmer's daughter and farmhand könig moodboard. 🌾

the loser's addictive drug, the farmer's daughter...

[tacticalprincess]

MDNI — cw: f!reader, car sex, age gap

farmhand!könig who can’t get enough of farmer’s daughter!reader….

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🌾

he’s always pestering you, making it impossible for you to complete your chores on time most days. he’s addicted to the playful gleam in your eyes when you look up at him, the way your soft body feels in his rugged hands. the excitement that thrums under his skin as the two of you dance around your overprotective dad, sharing a secret that tethers you together long after you leave his shed at night, lingers thick in the air at the dinner table and in passing. the more of you you give to him, the worse his craving for you gets, and the less he seems to care about getting caught.

he sneaks a hand over your mouth and lifts you into his old, beat up truck while you’re taking your dry sheets off the clothesline, the sun hot and heavy overhead. you squeal against his palm, writhing in his hold before he sets you on his broad lap, letting you turn to face him.

“don’t do that! you scared me.”

he laughs it off, already snaking his large, calloused hands under your shirt to thumb at your hip pudge. cant waste any time when he has you alone. insincere apologizes mumbled into the soft, sweat slick skin of your neck, huffing in your sweet scent. “cant help myself with you teasing me like this. bending over in these tiny shorts, showing all the animals your ass.”

you giggle, back arching into the older man’s greedy, firm touch, angling your head away to give him more access to your neck. “the cows weren’t exactly my target audience.”

“talking about me, liebchen.” he clarifies. the strong smell of musk and mud invades your senses, the soft fabric of his white tee chafing against your hard, braless nipples through your flimsy shirt. “dirty little girl, aren’t you? going to get me in trouble one day, i know it. what would your father do if he knew his daughter was trying to seduce his best farmhand?”

he renders your ability to speak null and void when he slots his hands into your shorts and squeezes you for all you have to offer, spreading your cheeks and making you grind your hips down on his hard bulge, the friction from your jeans borderline painful against your clit. groans throatily at how wet you are already, his fingers slipping into your hole to gather your slick before he retracts it entirely, showing you how it sticks to his thick digits. “hm? looks like this cute little cunt missed me too.” a cocky grin plagues his sharp features, smearing your juices over your pouty lips dirtily, just to see your face scrunch up in disgust. he grabs your chin, pulling you forward to lick it off.

it’s all happening too fast, exhilaration clinging to your bones, heat gathering at your core. you look around the field warily, mind racing with doubt but your body betrays you, bucking into his mouth when you feel him litter sloppy, wet kisses along your chest, pulling down the strap of your shirt to let your cute boobs spring free. if it wasn’t hot already, you’re burning up now. “könig, not out in the open like this. what if daddy sees?”

“i’ll be quick, maus. just want to play with you.” he promises, though you have a sneaking suspicion it won’t be over that soon. “can you feel how hard you make me? you’re all i can think about, it’s impairing my ability to work. cant have that, can we?”

decidedly, you don’t want to be the cause of a sudden switch in the quality of könig’s farm work, or at least that’s what you tell yourself when you let him push your shorts to the side, sitting yourself down on his thick, hard manhood. he swallows every heavenly noise that tip from your soft lips onto his tongue, clashing teeth and jaw from desperation. lets you grit your kitten nails into his scalp for purchase, hot bodies pressed flush together in the cramped space while he lifts and drops you down until your thighs start to tremble and lock around him. the heels of your boots dent into your plush thighs, his are planted to the floor as he pile drives his hips into you, thrusts deliberate and meticulous in a way that awakens sweet parts you didn’t know you had.

it’s a shame, he thinks, having to hide away in a dirty truck with such a pretty thing like you. too soft and sweet for a man like him, but his addiction to you makes you impossible to resist. it’s unclear who’s corrupting who in this situation.

if you were back home with him in austria, he would’ve proposed to you already, declaring you as his for everyone to see. as it is, he bounces you on his cock until you’re seeing stars, the ambience of the farm surrounding you, with the slowly setting sun as your witness.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

this is so farmer!könig & off the grid!könig 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

https://www.tumblr.com/gauloiseblue/746443017434595328/this-is-price-you-cant-change-my-mind

Link to the original post

yes, farmer!König will impregnate his farmhand girl through a huge peephole if he can, promises to pull out but never does... begs for forgiveness on his knees afterwards, apologizing profusely at your door, saying he'll never do it again! he just got carried away, he hasn't been with a woman in ages (if ever), you must understand... please, let him hold you for a while and maybe put it in again? you tell him he's too desperate, he wouldn't last a minute out there in the real world, but he just bullies his cock back inside you with a pathetic whine. he's the loneliest man in the universe here at this godforsaken farm so good luck with getting rid of him now that you allowed him to climb into your bed...

and off the grid!König is no better, sneaks up on you when you're tending to your silly little garden, picking up a cute cabbage completely unawares. it falls from your hands when he picks you off your feet, big arms fast around you and a stubbled, sweaty face buried in your hair. he was supposed to haul some wood into the shed but here he is, telling you he's in the mood if you are... hands sneaking up your shirt, plucking and pinching your nipples, he knows you wear no bra :( you can't say no to him even if the cabbage is now dirty and soiled and you're annoyed—König just tells you he'll help you with your veggies and flowers if you give him this one little treat... soon he's spreading your legs under the sun, inspecting you in full daylight while the ducks quack in the distance and sweet crickets chirp in the hay. this is what he brought you here for, to be bred and loved like the silly woman that you are ❤️🌿!

[comfortless]

All That You Don’t Want

PAIRING: witch!fem!reader x apprentice!König

CONTENT: 18+! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. oneshot. obvious au— so not canon-compliant!, questionable morality, mutual pining, animal death (it’s still alive! but not!), minor character death, power imbalance? technically teacher/student, forced proximity, smut; unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, cockwarming.

NOTES: title from this song! (i will never stop titling my König fics after The Twilight Sad lyrics sorry) i have never written smut in my life i apologize if this is rough!! cover: Robert Bresson, 1951 wc: 7.7k

You never wanted an apprentice, never had the need for some bright-eyed whelp shadowing you for their own benefit. The kingdom had enough competition as far as your craft went— green magic, potion brewing and enchantments, why in the world would you risk teaching someone your secrets only for them to outdo you at every turn? Those with the propensity for magic weren’t treated human, anyway. You saw the looks, uneasy and disgusted, unless of course they had need of you.

The Guild keeps your protected, scrawl your praises in every fresh sheet of parchment passed about, brings in new clients for you to keep yourself afloat without you ever having to leave your little cottage in the forest just beyond the towering walls of the kingdom. So, when you receive the damned letter, how can you refuse?

Green magic couldn’t protect you from the King’s headsman, nor could it keep you hidden away from the constant threat of bandits and other malevolent forces, but the lines in the small letter detailing your new apprentice’s abilities are enough to make you swallow back some of that displeasure.

“… proficient in offensive magics…” and “… formerly in service to the King as a worthy candidate for knighting…” even “… a skilled huntsman…” all tell you that whoever this enigmatic pup is, he would have no qualms hissing at and chasing off a few rogues if they dared step too close to your territory. You picture some ruggedly handsome and charming gentleman arriving at your door with a sword of the finest steel hanging from his side and you loathe the way that your heart seems to flutter with excitement at the prospect.

A fortnight after the letter arrived at your doorstep, you realize that fantasy is often far sweeter than the reality.

You’re busying yourself sorting out a towering shelf with haphazardly placed vials, some labeled and others… well, if you had to guess based on the color of the fluid inside, you should probably toss lest you accidentally poison the next poor woman that comes by simply wanting something to charm the cute farmhand while her piece of shit husband, far too old for her, is off on another brothel visit. You may not be equipped to defend yourself in battle, but you know very well how to make nightshade and wolf’s bane taste like milk and honey.

It’s when you turn with your arms burdened by a heap of unlabeled, possibly poisonous concoctions that you see a figure just outside your window— tall, face shrouded with a blackened veil with only two holes cut out for his moonstone eyes. You curse the way the sight makes you nearly jump out of your skin, dropping everything you were holding onto the wooden floor, brightly colored fluid and glass shards staining a nearby rug you had spent an entire month painstakingly hooking yourself. The specter just tilts his head at you before inviting himself inside. Why bother pretending to be civilized when you look like that, anyhow?

You crouch to collect the shards of glass and wipe away the mixture of maybe-poisons as he enters, not sparing him a glance even as his footfalls lead him to stand uncomfortably close. Perhaps if the entire ordeal hadn’t pissed you off you would have the sense to be afraid, consider the fact that this titan of a man could have been a thief, but something tells you that this is the bright-eyed whelp you had anticipated. The man doesn’t even bother to greet you, let alone kick his muddy boots off at the door, he just hovers over you with his face tilted downward as you scrub up the mess you tell yourself he had caused.

“Leave it to The Guild to send me a dolt,” you mutter below your breath, barely audible as you move to deposit bits of broken glass into a wastebasket at the corner of the room.

“Ja?” The man huffs amusedly.

“Ja?” You question.

“Yes.”

You give him a look, one that suggests you’re in no mood for whatever this is and he seems to stiffen. Any mirth in those haunted eyes of his is quickly snuffed out, replaced with his gaze darting from perusing your backside to the corner of the room, then back up to your face.

He introduces himself as ‘König’. No surname, no title. Though, you supposed in his language, his name was a title in itself. Perhaps your disappointment is more notable than you realize, because the man seems almost nervous around you as you introduce yourself in turn. His fingers curl into his palms in repetition at his sides, and it’s impossible to tell by the small glimpse of his face whether or not he wants to strangle you or bury himself instead.

You rise to your feet, feeling acutely defeated as you lead him around the home, showing him to each room before stopping at the door to his own and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’ll stay here,” you say quietly, avoiding his eyes as he lowers himself to look at you, thanking you graciously as his hand lingers a bit too long on your shoulder. You gently reach to pry it off, only to feel him grip at your fingers running his thumb over each knuckle before finally drawing away.

You watch from the doorway as he inspects the room. A bed a size two small for a man such as himself sits in the middle, a desk cluttered with spare vials of ink and a few quills made of swan feather, and a towering bookshelf filled with books on simple magic that you haven’t bothered to touch since you were a girl. He seems pleased, despite how very little effort was made for him. As much as you wish otherwise, you almost feel the sting of guilt when you watch him seat himself on the small bed and his eyes light up as he looks to you.

It didn’t take much perception to see the world hadn’t treated this brute too kindly.

He hunts your dinner, bringing home several rabbits that he took his time to skin and prepare for cooking in the yard. Even more, he roasts them over a fire he stoked up for you in a display of gratitude. You watch him from the fogged window as he seats himself by the fluttering flames, watching the meat with a focus that speaks volumes about his own discipline.

“Have you lived on the land for long, König?,” you ask him when the two of you are seated at the table, wiping away the remnants of your meal from your lips with a small handkerchief.

He’s only rucked up his hood enough to eat, the scars lining his jaw run deep, the skin pasty there. He looked far too pale to even be a living thing at all, but his thin lips pull into a grin at your question. “You can tell?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, the tone of his voice suggesting sarcasm. “Perceptive little witch.”

You furrow your brow at him, surprised by his sudden arrogance. You would have sooner expected the man to tear a hole through you than meet your little question with a cocky response if his twitchy behavior was anything to go by. But… his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the amused lilt mixed with his accent, some natural charm that makes areas of you ache that haven’t been touched in years.

“A man must know to feed himself, ja?”

“Well, I don’t hunt.”

He huffs out a laugh at that, raising a hand to readjust his hood, pulling it back down over his face. König is not pretty, far from it from what you could see, but you almost find yourself downtrodden that he’s hiding himself again when you were only just starting to find yourself curious.

“I will teach you,” he suggests as he clears your table, depositing both your dishes and his own into the washbasin at the far corner of the kitchen. He’s helping, and your eyes merely track him dumbfounded.

“You don’t have to, König— I, um. I’m supposed to be teaching you, remember?” You’re trying to sound authoritative, like a proper mentor but it’s fruitless, really. How long had it been since a man was this close to you, living out in the forest? You had clients, sure, but in your craft you came to know about their proclivities, their ailments, and any interest you may have had died with their innumerable requests.

The Guild had set you up, surely, you decide as your eyes wander over to the man washing your dishes, the man who had prepared your dinner, who had stared openly at your ass. The man who smelled of dew and timber and fire smoke. The man with the most beautiful, tired eyes you had ever met.

You can see the muscles of his back through his tunic, tightly bundled up from where he’s drawn his sleeves to his bicep to wash up the remnants of dinner, mind almost numbing from the sight alone. It felt like some divine torture, to be sent something you adamantly did not want only for that very same thing to make your pulse quicken and throat dry.

“I want to teach you,” he tries again.

You feel sinful for the place your mind goes then. Do the ladies in the kingdom often allow monsters to bed them? Is his size comparable to the stature?

“Okay.” Your voice was tight, barely a whisper.

He finishes up his cleaning and turns to look at you as he wrings his hands over the washbasin, his eyes narrowed and crinkled at the corners. Grinning again like a wolf knowing he’s got his claws in you.

— — —

You go over the standard protocol when dealing with customers seeking remedies with König as you hear the approaching horse whinnying out in the yard. Simple, standard. Most people had a wariness for those who were touched by magic, understandably so. It’s human nature to fear what isn’t fully understood. With König’s imposing height and the veil over his face, you needed him to be extra careful in these situations. He doesn’t seem to take offense at your fretting, merely smiles beneath the veil as you speak and all is settled and well by the time your client wraps lightly at the door.

You swing the door open with a polite smile, hands clasped at the lap of your dress. The smile is maintained even as you catch sight of his face, scars from a horrific burn covering over half of it, his right eye filmed over and sightless in its socket. He wasn’t here to charm a lady or conceal his face with glamours, only for a balm to alleviate the lingering, phantom pains that stretched from his scalp down to his neck. A decent man, and a damned good blacksmith from what you had heard. He was one of your favorites.

König observes from the corner of the room, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest without a word as you fetch the jar of balm for the client, accept his coin and send him back on his way.

“Oh.. I don’t know how he got that nasty burn but it’s hard to look at isn’t it?”

König gives you a look, something unsaid hinted at just beyond the surface of his icy eyes, and you realize it’s a little too late to pull your words back.

— — —

Days seem to pass by with an awkward tension in the air. It’s not because of his tutelage under you, either, because he’s doing surprisingly well with his studies. Potion crafting is a tricky, fickle sort of thing. One mistake and an entire batch is ruined and the gods only knew when you would stumble upon what was required whilst foraging again. König is careful, attentive as he follows your instruction. He studies diligently, spending his free time reading through his books, often out in the foyer and if not for how skilled he was, you would assume it was all for show. Wishful thinking, a vicious yearning settling in between your breasts that wants for him to try and impress you, to court you.

It’s tense because you’ve found you can’t keep the man out of your head. In the late hour when the house has fallen silent, you could often hear his desperate grunts through the thin slats of wood separating your own room from his. You’ve imagined the sight of him fisting his cock, biting down onto his scarred lip as he whines through his release more times than you would ever confess. The gods themselves couldn’t pry the admittance from your lips that you wait up sometimes to hear him with your own hand between your thighs.

And König had this look about him now, more confident as he walks about. His hands don’t twitch as much when the two of you speak.

It’s the seventh morning as you’re preparing tea for the both of you that he enters the cottage entirely nude (apart from the hood; he seems insistent about keeping it almost entirely on in your presence). His body drips with river water, looking more like the skillfully carved statues that took residence in the castle courtyard than any man at all. You can’t help your staring, and he seems unperturbed by it as he slips behind you to set some freshly plucked milkweed on the wooden countertop. So focused on the cords of tight muscle layering his body, the obscene thing swaying between his legs, you hadn’t even noticed he had bothered to collect an ingredient you so desperately needed.

A man such as he should be seated on a throne, worshipped by a harem of pretty ladies, all pawing at his lap. Yet— he merely had you, ogling him as openly as he seemed to do to you.

“For the elixir,” he hums, sounding amused as he tilts his head to look you over as he had a striking amount of times already.

“Yeah.” You try to subtly clear your throat, cursing yourself for the way your reaction prompts his eyes to dart to the swell of your breasts beneath your dress. “Thanks.”

“You look pretty today.” He’s making everything worse. Turning your quiet life around and filling you with some horrid feeling you’ve avoided for years out here in near-isolation. “You look pretty everyday,” he corrects himself before you can speak. The obscene pillar between his legs seems to grow at the sight of you, and if you were not certain before, you know assuredly now that something has cursed you.

A good, knowing witch would tell him that his compliments were inappropriate, unwarranted. She would tell him to not walk around with his cock on full display and send him off to practice mundane spells as punishment. You are not a good, knowing witch at all if the warmth on your face is anything to go by.

“How was the river?” You ask instead, graciously retrieving a towel from the cupboard to hand to him. Despite how orderly you tried to keep things here, it’s not the water he’s dripping all over the hardwood that has your mind spinning.

“Gut.” He says words in his native tongue, often, and you’ve already grown accustomed to deciphering them. They sound prettier on his tongue than your own. He accepts the towel and merely draping it over his broad shoulders. “Come with me next time,” he offers, all but innocently.

God damnit.

“I made tea.” You’re trying to avoid his undressing stare, busying yourself with the tea kettle. The scent of mint seems to calm you as you pour the tea into your own mug, careful not to spill it out onto the counter with your trembling hands.

“I like you.” Blunt as always, you wonder if he even has any sort of control on the things he says.

God damnit all.

“I like you too, König. You’re a good apprentice,” you respond, your nerves alight with something that you can’t quite place; a twig on the verge of snapping under its weight.

He laughs soft, and graciously gives you a reprieve from well… that as he steps out of the room to finally dress himself.

Later that evening as the elixir is fully prepared and the client arrives to pick it up, you realize that König is no where in sight. It’s not uncommon; the man certainly lacked his social graces, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the shopfront side of what you do before until you had spoken so carelessly. The client is a nervous little thing, a girl not yet a woman, anxious and shaky as she takes the vial from you with an abundance of thanks. It’s no wonder why she had requested such a thing meant to put a patch over her anxieties and communicate better now. You steal only a spoonful from the cauldron as you empty it, praying that it silences the buzzing of nerves and the fluttering in your heart as you bed down for the night.

— — —

You wake to a door slamming shut in the dead of night, followed by the quieted hiss of what you believe to be a curse in a language that is not your own. It immediately sends you on high alert, thinking back to the threat of bandits and enchanted wildlife or whatever else. Jolted from your bed by the kick of adrenaline, you tiptoe down the stairs to see that… nothing is out of place. The den is as homey as always, every vial and potion bottle in its place on the shelves. The only thing that appeared to be missing at all was a book on your shelf. You knew that book, too. It was a favorite of many of your customers, the ones with weathered skin or features that were not the golden standard of delicate, royal beauty. A book on glamours was not something that would be stolen away by any thief in the night, seeing as it wouldn’t be of much help at all without a dedicated practitioner.

It only really settles in for you that your apprentice snatched it away when you take a peek out of the window and your eyes settle on a darkened corner of the garden. Tall sprigs of lavender sprung up from the earth there, and an even taller man sat, legs crossed with your book in his lap beneath the milky glow of the moon.

König looks… agitated. Even from this distance, the glass and wall and several meters of organized plant life separating you, you can see his hands shaking as he ghosts his calloused fingertips over the pages. His shoulders tense and a fiery look in his eye. He reads the incantations aloud with proper annunciation, forced through his thick accent. Repeats them, several times over. Not a thing changes.

But you leave him be, return to bed, because despite him being your responsibility, his private matters are still his own. As much as you would like to snatch the book from his hands and confess through tears that he haunts your dreaming just as he is now, you can’t bring yourself to do so.

When the book is in its place the following morning with König still in his bed, you read over the pages heavily scented by lavender. The ones that tell you how he sees himself in truth without a single word from his own being. Too tall, too ugly, too ruined.

It’s not enough to say your heart breaks. You feel it shatter somewhere in your chest, little pieces crumbling down into the darkest pit of your middle. Perhaps he’s only doing this due to your careless words about your client the other day, perhaps he wants to be seen as something beautiful for once.

The day is spent with a heavy weariness in your eyes. König picks up some slack for you as you fester in a sadness that should not even be your own; prepares something meaty for you both to eat, incorrectly sweeps some dust from the wooden floors that you know you’ll have to properly clean later on, and even tends to the garden. He’s good with the plants, gentle as he plucks berries from their stems and cuts away only what was required with a sharp dagger.

While you’ve thrown yourself over a cushioned chair, König kneels before you to speak. He’s just finished telling you some gory tale about when he squired for Ser… something, a name you don’t even care to remember. It was a rare occurrence for him to open up, you’ve come to realize that. Maybe it was simply too soon for him, but then again, he seemed to have no qualms allowing you to hear his desperate howling at night or walk about after a bath with his cock fully erect in your line of sight. If words were too much then what the hell was all of that?

“How come you didn’t become a knight, König?” you ask him, your tone sounding a bit more dead than intended. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in his stories, you were simply still coming to terms with one of his likely innumerable secrets. “The Guild said you were a good candidate, so why?”

You ask your questions, his eyes light up. He’s not used to this, it seems, and the fact that you want to know him at all makes him giddy. His fingers drum against his thighs, eyes creasing at the corners as he smiles beneath that veil and you wonder… wonder how the world could be cruel to someone like this at all when all that you want to do is bundle up with him beneath your thick quilts and kiss him in places only lovers would.

He doesn’t respond to your question, though. Another secret for some other time, you supposed. Instead, he asks his own, “Why are you so alone?”

König speaks freely, you knew that well enough but the words that escape his lips cause you to freeze all the same. His tone is neutral, not accusatory or mocking, but there’s something— something there you can’t properly uproot.

“I’m not lonely.” A little white lie couldn’t be too terrible, yet the thought of betraying your companion in even such a small way, hurting him like you assumed so many others had before is just unthinkable. “I am sometimes, but I like living here,” you correct.

“But you are alone,” he insists.

“I am not. You’re here.”

Your words are like a charm, really, and any rationale König may have had immediately dissipates when you speak them. He climbs over you, the chair creaking under your combined weight as he looks down at you with this hope-filled expression that tugs every one of your heartstrings at once. “Let me kiss you.”

His shallow breathing flutters his veil, the hunger in his eyes more than apparent, and you’ve the sense that a mere kiss would not suffice, turning into a long night with an impossible soreness between your thighs come morning.

You shake your head and he backs off immediately, returning to sit on the floor before you instead with a simple, “Okay.”

The room falls silent for a moment. You wanted to. You’ve been longing to. And yet the opportunity had gone and went; for any normal, sane person your rejection would have been enough. Weeks spent in his company should have taught you that König was a far cry from normal. The man treats you like you’re a doll, not a seasoned witch. Takes to hiding away from any company you may have and spends his nights outside in the dark wishing and failing to change what he was.

“If I tell you why I am not a knight will you kiss me?,” he tries again as you shift to sit upright in your seat.

“What? König, no… that’s not how—”

“I will court you,” he interjects quickly, rising to his feet to stare down at you. The man was practically buzzing with excitement, and you wonder if he intends to bolt out of the house right then to bring back ample gifts of flowers and fine silks just for a chance to mash his mouth against your own.

“You’re not here to court me,” you huff with a pinched brow. Stop making this harder! Why must you always make this harder?!

“I think about you at night.”

The giant professes his affections by telling you that he’s fucking his fist to the thought of you with all the simplicity of idle talk. Somehow, that seemed less alarming than the fact that you don’t even seem horrified. Words fail you when you desperately need them most, merely gaping up at him so dumbly you must have actually belayed interest, because he continues.

“In the river too.”

“König… that’s inappropriate,” you manage to find your voice then. You know that you’re a plaster saint, too, because the thought of bathing where he spreads his seed sends a swell of warmth from your tummy to the aching blossom between your legs.

“Ja, it is… why do you tease me? The way you look…” He trails off with a shake of his head, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion. He was trembling as though afraid, so violently you almost fear he’ll come crashing over you like an ocean wave. You would catch him, drown in salt water and foam, a curtain of sharp teeth and darkness.

He fidgets as he waits for an answer that never comes. What could you say? Admit that the way he feels is a mirror of yourself, that the two of you are only seconds from diving into a pool that you could never resurface from.

But just like before, König retreats up the shadowy staircase, up to his room. Another reprieve, another stone weighing heavy in the recesses of your mind.

— — —

Secrets are stupid, evil things you decide.

You’re staring into the glazed eyes of a dead buck as it stands before you on it’s hind legs. It’s head hangs limply from its broken neck, mouth gaping with each fragile intake of breath. It’s bloated belly leaks it’s own entrails as it takes a shaky step towards you, trying desperately to kick at you with the stiff limbs tucked against its chest.

“I don’t know how to make it go away,” König pants at your side, and despite his shallow, rapid breathing there’s this calm look in his eyes. This has happened before. This has happened before and to a far worse extent than a deer.

It makes sense, now, why something as trivial as casting a glamour simply didn’t work for König. The man was touched by something darker, something the King’s men would happily cut his head from his shoulders for. Necromancy was immoral and frankly, horrifying. Seeing it now, it was really no wonder why this sort of magic would send one directly to the headsman.

The deer huffs a breath, too long and ragged. It’s not used to breathing any more, after all. König steps between you two, his dagger raised. “Just… close your eyes.”

It’s over as quickly as it’s manifested and König does well at shielding you from the aftermath, your face pressed to his chest as he pulls you into his arms and walks you back home. What was meant to be a simple practicing session, resulted in chaos, and you’ve no words to give to fill the silence hanging over the two of you as he finally deposits you by the door.

You stand on shaking legs, a million questions swimming through your mind, but even as you part your lips to speak not a single sound comes out.

He looks exasperated when he finally remedies the quiet. “You’re afraid of me.” It’s not a question, only a resounding fact.

“No,” you lie immediately with a firm shake of your head.

“I will go.” König’s eyes are tired, always tired. He’s already slinking back towards the door when you reach for him, almost clawing at the length of his sleeve in your own desperation. If you were cursed this man was, tenfold, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sending him back out into a world that had hurt him so. One that would assuredly end his torment should this ever happen again. You don’t know whether you’re being merciful or selfish anymore; the definitions all a blur. You only know that the thought of König leaving your side feels like the ache of a thorn embedded in your heart.

“König, please— We can figure something out, we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” you huff as you bury your face against his shoulder. He’s both tense and trembling beneath your warmth. “I just need time to think.”

He cocks his head, a resounding twinkle of mirth breaking through the listlessness in his eyes. “Why?”

König isn’t dull-witted. He knows the words you never have a chance to speak. No one’s ever held fast to his side like this; no one has ever truly wanted him.

You know that the second he pushes his veil up and presses his mouth to yours. It’s clumsy, the force he uses, as if he’s trying to headbutt you instead of give you his affection, but you reciprocate in turn. You breathe shakily against him when you finally bring yourself to part your lips and he immediately begins to languidly lap into your mouth, drawing his arms around you; one finding the base of your neck as the other settles on your lower back, his fingers digging into your velvet dress, bunching up the fabric enough to reveal the meat of your ass.

You both moan as though you’re already having sex, caught up in a tangle of limbs he tastes your mouth as though it were sweet wine; his tongue flicks against your own before pulling back, lapping at your lip, pushing back in in some steady repetition that makes your knees weaker. Your hands find the hem of his tunic, slipping beneath it to feel a wall of muscle layered over his abdomen and he groans into the kiss with such fervor you would think he’s already come. He tears the cloth off the second you thumb over his nipple and drops to his knees clutching at your thighs.

“I need to taste you.” He sounds so desperate, looks so pitiful as though he’ll cry if you don’t allow him to fuck you with his tongue. You’re too far gone to give him anything more than a nod, and he all-too-readily lifts the skirt of your dress, hooks his finger around the seat of your panties and buries his face between your thighs. The first sweeps of his tongue are almost punishing; he wastes no time plowing the muscle into your cunt, writhing and grinding it against your velvety walls. The sound is already obscene, but then he begins to moan.

He sounds even more desperate than those nights in his lonely room, somehow, as he paws at his own erection straining against his trousers and drives into your pussy at a feverish pace. When he finally moves to take your clit between his lips, you grasp at the top of his head to keep yourself upright, moaning so loudly you’re certain that the entire kingdom could hear. He hums, amused at this, places his hands on your ass and pushes your hips for you to grind against his tongue.

When he jerks your panties aside again to rub circles against your asshole, the tautly pulled coil inside of you finally snaps. You curl over him as you mewl, cradling his head as his tongue pushes against your labia and your slit to lap up every bit of your essence. He releases his grip on your ass as you tremble, strokes himself freely below you as he pants against your pulsing cunt. Graciously, he gives you a moment to recover before he’s rising to his feet, tearing off your ruined panties and lifting you in his arms just enough to rub his leaking tip against you, you give him a strangled cry of his name when his length brushes against your swollen clit.

“Let me fuck you,” he rasps, his eyes wide and pupils blown as you squirm in his arms. “Bitte. Please. Let me fuck you.”

“Yes— Please, please fuck me König,” you whine as your arms curl over his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate when he lies you back against your rug and pushes your knees up to your chest. His fingers flex against your flesh at the sight of your pussy still twitching from aftershocks, soaked down to your ass and pleading to be filled by him. He drops a hand to spread your lips, groaning deeply from his chest as he watches in awe as the tip of his thick cock sinks into you.

You hadn’t realized just how dirty König was until you see that look in his eye, pulling his head out only to repeatedly push into you with a choked whine of sheer bliss. You hadn’t realized how filthy you were until you find yourself tucking your arms beneath your knees to keep yourself in position so he can grope at the flesh of your ass as he does it.

“So— fuck— so schön,” he mutters as he continues to tease you like this. It’s almost hell the way he still hadn’t filled you entirely when you ache to have that long, ugly pillar buried so far it’s bruising your very womb, and it’s almost heaven the way you squeeze against him with each shallow thrust, your pussy desperate to devour his weapon of flesh.

“König…” You’re breathing his name as though it were a prayer, and as though a gift from the heavens his calloused thumb begins to rub over your clit the moment he finally sinks himself into you. There’s resistance, your cunt wasn’t meant to take a cock so large, you’re certain, but he bottoms out after what feels like an eternity, parts your knees with one hand to see your face as he gasps. You take him all, enveloping him in a vise grip and he hissed something in his native tongue, a string of words you can only imagine are praise because the way he’s looking at you now is as if he’s found a goddess all for himself.

“I’m going to fill you,” he declares as he lowers himself atop you, his weight almost crushing. “I’m going to… feels so…” His words fall short as he begins to move, groping at one of your tits as his other hand remains over your mound, flicking your clit. König’s fingers trace against your nipple before pinching it just hard enough to draw a choked mewl from you as your back arches. “Ja, liebling… you need it..”

His pace picks up, thumb deftly rolling over your clit until you spasm around his cock. It’s savage, the fervor he puts into fucking into you, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix until you cry out, only to draw back enough to bully against your g-spot until you shiver. Your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly and so hard your bite down on your lip enough to draw blood. König licks at your mouth as your sex pulses around him, groaning in tandem with your pretty cries.

He trails small kisses along your throat before biting down as his own climax hits. He alternates between spitting out words that sound like pure venom and moans that make him sound weak as he gives you one more thrust. His cock twitches so violently inside of you as he presses against your cervix your mind entirely blanks. You can’t tell if it’s his semen or your own slick spilling past his cock, painting your thighs when it all ends. You hang limply against him as he carries you over to the chair, keeping you plugged as he pulls you into his lap.

He fully unclothes you as he peppers your face and neck in sweet, open-mouthed kisses, pets you from the crown of your skull down to your back, brings a hand around your waist to pull you close as his other squeezes and squishes at your breasts. König’s gaze is adoring as your eyes meet his, he’s looking at you with a love you’ve never even known, the warmth of summer somehow still present in those eyes like glaciers.

“Will you stay?,” you force yourself to ask as if the answer isn’t already clear, his cock’s still buried in you and the man seemed utterly in love after merely having a sweaty, adrenaline addled session.

König presses his face into your hair, nuzzling at you as he kisses your temple. “You want me to stay?” He sounds bewildered, so fucking broken that he’s confused by the prospect anyone would even want him around, even if he just gave her the best fuck she’s ever had, even if she’s been staring at him adoringly since he found his way to her door.

“Of course I want you to stay!”

“Then… Ja, I will.”

It’s a declaration of love, in a sense.

König drops his hands to your hips as he kisses you again. The desperation has been strangled, buried someplace in your core. It’s sweet now when his kisses become sloppy and overwhelming. He shifts below you as he maneuvers your hips to grind against him, his length already hardening within you again. He noses at your jaw and pressed kisses to your cheeks when you take a moment to breathe. You curl your arms around him and bury your face into the crook of his neck as your ride him, the both of you moaning soft and panting against sweaty flesh. He finishes inside of you once more just as you lift his veil and kiss along his scars.

He bathed you in the river, carrying you down to the rocky shore as though you were a treasure, his hand stroking through your hair as the water laps over your bodies. It’s not enough to simply hold you, either, because one bath becomes two after he’s bent you over a stump and licked you to completion again before rutting into you like an animal.

Nights are no longer spent with a wall between, he takes to your bed without question, ensures you’re comfortable and warm as he holds you through the night. There’s a sort of desperation in you both, two outsiders that have finally found sanctuary in one another.

“I love you.” Followed by: “I love you.”

You’re not entirely sure who says it first.

— — —

“A deer?”

There’s a man in your home that you don’t recognize, looking you over as though you were well-bred cattle rather than a human being at all. Says he’s concerned about a potential necromancer after something foul slipped its way past the castle walls and paraded itself through an annual ball, sullying a few too-expensive and uncomfortably layered dresses and goring a man with its antlers.

König was seated in front of him, rigid with a forced calm you had never seen on him before, hands clasped and unmoving. You know he’s nervous anyway, his shallow breathing speaks volumes for what the veil keeps from you. You round the table to bring them both tea, trying your best to play the part of indifference as the two men speak.

König had said he didn’t know how to make it go away, and of course he didn’t, because how do you kill something that’s already died? Neither of you would have anticipated it finding its way there of all places, and in retrospect, you’re not even certain that the thought came to mind at all, you had lost yourselves in one another the moment you arrived home. Seeing as you both were the only magic-touched folks roving these woods, it was obvious why The Guild had sent this creep to question you.

“Yes. A large buck, it was,” the man continues, winking at you as he takes a sip of the warm liquid in the mug. You wished you had poisoned it, ridding the world of a man that made your skin crawl like this surely wouldn’t be too sinful. Looking to König, you realize that there’s no need for poisons, because the look in his eyes suggests that before this interrogation is over your rug will have a more stubborn stain than spilled potions and come.

“We use green magic,” you chime in flatly, giving König a moment to quiet his fury as the man turns his attention back to you. “Maybe a traveler slipped into the kingdom, it has nothing to do with König and myself. Why are you here?”

If he hadn’t already told you a thousand times earlier that morning when he took you in the garden, laid you down in a bed of blue and purple wildflowers, König would have told you he loved you right then. You were true, protecting him and risking your own head as well.

“That’s the thing,” the man begins with a laugh entirely devoid of amusement. “Your apprentice here was under similar scrutiny while he was in service to the king. A dead man brought back to life…” he waves his hand as he speaks, staring up at the ceiling as though he’s recounting poetry instead of listing the reasoning why he wanted to have your lover decapitated. “… killed ten good knights. We never suspected him at the time, but all of this…” He shrugs his shoulders and raises his brow, looking somehow even more insufferable than before.

You cross the room to gather the letter signed off by The Guild, detailing your apprentice’s arrival and thrust it into the man’s face. “He would have never passed any sort of eligibility exam if that were the case, and you sent him here.”

The man takes the letter with a click of his tongue before he laughs again. “We didn’t,” he says as he taps the signature at the bottom, hardly a signature at all, only a messy scrawl, the guild master’s name even spelled incorrectly.

König didn’t meet your gaze when you looked to him then.

You made a promise to him you would figure this all out, and you would. You just needed to buy some time, slip some wolfsbane into his tea—

“On behalf of The Guild, I do apologize for the trouble this monster has caused…”

There is no time.

“I’ll be sure that he and his rotting pets are disposed of prop—“

You’re clutching at the dagger König had left on the side table without even thinking it over, fingers curled so tightly around the grip, your knuckles felt alight. The man’s voice is silenced the moment he notices as he takes a wary step away from you. It’s not, really, that you could ever even see yourself taking a life, you never have, but the thought of losing König over a horrible chance in the stars that some uncaring god cursed him with makes bile crawl up the back of your throat and white hot fury course through your veins with all the subtlety of a stampede.

It wasn’t his fault.

König places himself between the two of you and curls his arm around you protectively. If lying for him hadn’t already resigned you to the same fate, drawing the dagger assuredly had. He gently pries the dagger from your hand and tucks your face against his chest, just as he had before when he tried to correct the accidental gift of life he had bestowed to the deer, only this time… you feel the pull of his muscles, you hear sounds of the dagger meeting it’s mark as he cuts through the interrogator’s tender flesh. It takes mere seconds for you to know his blade has struck true, the dying man eliciting a weak gurgling cry from his torn throat as König drops the dagger to the floor with a clatter and strokes your hair.

He makes you stand outside while he cleans up his mess.

A sane woman would run, she would count her losses and look back on her time spent with this unhinged man with criticism. You find that you are not a sane woman when you realize the tears falling freely down your cheeks are not of fear or anger at your own situation, but at the knowledge that he’s suffered being shunned on his own for so long; that he’s killed without remorse because this is what it takes for someone like him to survive at all.

When he finally returns from burying the body and scrubbing the blood from your floor, you readily embrace him and he nuzzles into your hair.

“Es tut mir leid,” he huffs out against you, pulling you so close to him you think, pray, he’ll never let go. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not and you both know it, but you reassure him with your words and soft kisses to his cheeks as he wipes away your tears. “We can not stay here.”

We. Us. Together.

Something breaks in him at your words, and he shuts his eyes tightly to fight back the tears like claws at his eyes.

“So, tell me where we’ll go.”

He tells you of a place he read about in a book, somewhere across the sea and past a stretch of hills where the accidents he may cause won’t have him looked upon like a monster, where you can love one another in comfort, a place he’s dreamed about since he was a boy and found out just what he was when he reanimated his mother’s beloved cat. He tells you of his father’s cruelty, that a cat’s claws aren’t the only thing that’s left him riddled with scar tissue.

He tells you everything as you pack your things and begin a long walk to a shoddy harbor by the sea, his hand in your own as your board the ship to a new home, a new beginning.

[konigsblog]

farmer-könig and his little seductive farmhand.🌾

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED — 18+

farmer-könig is hardworking and determined. he spends the majority of his day feeding the animals and taking care of them, although he has one little distraction: you.

you enjoy riling the older male up, getting him pent up before skipping away with a cheeky grin plastered on your face, leaving him with a hard and aching boner inside of his jeans. he teases you back of course, sometimes walking around shirtless, smacking your tight rear if you're doing a slow job.

although könig gets increasingly frustrated the more often this happens. you like to grind against him slowly, perhaps offering to show him what you can do to long objects... like, a carrot, for example! your little snide innuendos leaving könig achingly sore and insatiable, unable to focus ‘til he finally gets that release he's been fantasising of.

you giggle at the effect you have on the poor, older gentleman. although as soon as könig gets his filthy and perverted hands on you, he's not letting go ‘til he has you bare with his release oozing out of you.

immediately, he lifts up your sundress, revealing your bare rear and slicken pussy. it's clear as day that you've been dreaming of this yourself, fantasising of getting fucked by an experienced man like him. könig's bends you over a fence for a quickie, holding your wrists behind your back in a tight fist, his hard dick throbbing against your sex, so intimate and close to finally pushing inside and fucking you relentlessly for your misbehaviour and neediness.

his pace starts off slow and calm, but quickly becomes ruthless. his heavy and full balls knock and smack against your swollen cunt, your glistening hole taking almost every inch gracefully. seems like you've been preparing for this moment, taking him so well, so eager to please the man. each thrust leaves your pussy drooling with euphoria and ecstasy, the wind knocked from your lungs, and the stretch causing moans and whines to drip from your tongue.

it doesn't take very long before he's filling you with his creamy load, potent strings of his semen plugging you, forced into your cunt. you squirm and pant, heaving and shaking, your thighs coated in a glimmer and shine of your sweat and release, könig's tip oozing out his load before fastening his belt and leaving you a sticky mess to deal with.

perhaps you should've thought twice before taunting him like that, sonnenschein.

[konigsblog]

farmer's daughter!reader and farmhand!könig.🌾🍒

synopsis; finally having sex with the loser that is obsessed with you.

tw/cw; afab!f!reader, loser!könig, inexperienced (but not virgin)!könig, top!könig, mentions of panty stealing. MDNI 18+

könig is ashamed to admit the truth about himself, but he's in fact not that experienced as he claims to be. he avoids the topic like the plague, getting off using a freshly clean pair of panties that he found on the washing line left to dry.

your parents would be gone for a couple of hours as they were down in the village, leaving both you and könig all alone. god, könig couldn't ignore the opportunity in front of him, he had to do it. you were sat in your bedroom, catching up on a new book you were interested in before könig pulled your door open suddenly, catching you with your hands between your supple thighs, rubbing at your sticky clit and getting off to the porn material in the book.

your eyes were wide with shock, while könig's were wide with desperation and pleasure. it didn't take a lot of convincing before you were naked and bare, excited to feel what könig had to offer. you knew he'd be big, but fuck, you didn't expect him to the so girthy as well. each inch pushed into your swollen folds left your voice cracking and breaking, your eyes wide at the burning stretch and ache between your soft thighs, with könig rubbing at your clit to stimulate pleasure.

he couldn't hurt the farmer's daughter or be caught doing something so depraved. your father would absolutely slaughter könig if he found out what you two were getting up to.

“fuck, schatzi— relax, take it all, sonnenschein, please. i need it all, to see your pretty pussy swallowing my large, fat cock.”

although all concerns and worries were pushed out of your head when könig began to hit that sweet spot again and again until you were sobbing and weeping, your body trembling with arousal and euphoria and your aroused cunny drooling around his length. your gummy and velvety walls pulsed and clutched onto his veiny shaft, his tip weeping against your cervix while your walls spammed around him uncontrollably, coating him in your slickness.

könig had to make a run for it after stuffing his favourite girl's pussy full with his creamy stickiness, jumping out of your bedroom window to avoid a conversation with your father while you threw your clothes back on, a secret kept between you two.

[konigsblog]

Farmhand!Reader who works on König's farm for a living, only to get kidnapped by Farmer!König.

It's not as if anyone will come looking for you. Your family lives elsewhere and don't bother checking up on you. You're struggling anyways, barely able to feed yourself or keep a roof over your head, occasionally sleeping over at König's house after pleading with him to let you stay for the night.

You'd be better off living in König's basement, taking his meaty cock after a hardworking day, or lending him your hand to get himself off. You're not good enough to work on the farm, but perfect for a cock slave.

[konigsblog]

farmer's daughter!reader x farmhand!könig thots™... (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

you know exactly what you're doing when you prance around the field in such a tiny skirt, allowing for the breeze to expose you to the sick bastard harvesting the carrots from the soil. he eyes you up from afar, like a wolf keeping a watchful, predatory eye on his next meal, all while attempting to conceal and hide the thick and stiff boner caused by your misbehaviour.

god, if only könig could snatch you away and stuff his thick, calloused hand down your panties and rub at your sensitive little clit in circles, overstimulating you as revenge for your naughtiness. :( he can't stay for long, liebling - unless you want to deal wour father's wrath and over protectiveness...

[konigsblog]

farmer's daughter and the farmhand.

farmhand!könig x afab!reader.

you're the farmer's daughter, a hardworking woman who spends the majority of her day feeding the animals and harvesting the fruits and vegetables. könig spends a lot of time taking care of the animals too, but finds himself getting easily distracted by you.

you tease him so much, walking past him in a short sundress that doesn't do a good job of covering your body. his gaze wanders and becomes perverted, knowing your father would kill him if he was so touchy with his sweet daughter. in your father's eyes, you do no wrong; if anything, it's that awkward and creepy farmhand who can't keep his filthy hands to himself.

könig tries to hold himself back from taking you then and there, with the only thing preventing him being your strict, terrifying, and frustrated father, who is overly protective of his girl. you grin at him playfully, hooking your finger onto the necklace around his nape and dragging him into the barn before pushing him down against the ground, the hay sticking to his jeans.

truth be told, könig isn't experienced when it comes to women. he's usually feared by most for his large size, yet you don't care whatsoever—if anything, you're curious to see more, to see what sounds you can force out of the large male. you giggle at his flustered, bashful reaction when you straddle his broad hips, telling him how your father isn't home and that it's just the two of you together today. fuck, könig would be lying if he said he wasn't achingly hard at the sight of you, his eyes fixated on your soft breasts, his eyes wide with thrill and excitement, and his jaw slack.

you keep him awake at night, with his mind replaying moments where you have touched innocently, your hand brushing against his, fantasising about finally getting into your pretty lace panties and taking you. könig's sturdy chest rises and falls rapidly, pushing his t-shirt up and unfastening his leather belt, his girthy and lengthy dick twitching at your soft and sensual touch. könig heaves and gasps, his eyes wide with shock, his dick throbbing at the sound of your sultry and seductive voice.

you push your panties to the side, sinking down onto his lengthy dick, underestimating how much of a stretch this would be. your breathing is shaky, quiet, and shallow. you whine softly, beginning to bounce onto his weeping shaft, his head thrown back, admiring the way you take his hard, big dick so well. könig's calloused, dirty hands grip your waist, his grasp tight and firm, filling your sticky and sweet wetness with his hung cock, the tightness causing him to growl out and buck his hips skyward into you. your folds are coated in your pearly arousal, coating his shaft in a glimmer of your release, beginning to quicken your pace when you rub your clit in small circles.

your core tightens at the stimulation against your sweet and sensitive nub, and the head of könig's leaking dick rubs against your gummy cervix. you're going to leave him addicted, liebling, to the velvety, smooth texture of your drooling pussy around his lengthy cock. he's humiliated when he comes before you, stuffing your tight cunt with globs of his creamy, milky semen, oozing into your pretty pussy, fucked into your cunt, breathless and delirious.

[konigsblog]

farmhand!könig x farmer's daughter!reader.🌾

tw/cw; semi-public sex, panty stealing and sniffing, perv!könig, loser!könig. MDNI 18+

you're a tease, always trying to seduce him, to rile him up and leave him irritated.

your father doesn't like könig. of course, he appreciates the help, but being overprotective of his daughter, he doesn't want you to date any men he doesn't approve of, and könig is no exception.

it doesn't matter how many times könig pleads with your father; he's adamant that you will not date him. although that doesn't stop the two of you. usually you clean the animals, but when könig is around, you're more focused on bending over to pick and harvest the berries and vegetables, wearing no panties beneath your skimpy dress.

that's one of many reasons könig feels that you are riling him up and taunting him. another reason is that you hang your panties on the washing line. despite könig's large size, he's pretty tactical and sneaky. he grabs a pair of your freshly washed panties, warm from the rays of the sun drying them, smelling of fresh flowers. you giggle when you find him getting off using a clean pair of your panties, using the pair he came all over to wear and handing him your worn panties, his creamy arousal rubbing against your slick folds.

you offer him a blowjob to clean up the mess he created. beads of his white stickiness drip from the head of his shaft, oozing out slowly.

and the last reason könig feels that you're teasing him is that you don't close the curtains while you get changed. he can see the silhouette of your naked figure in the window; his dick beginning to harden and stiffen. the only time könig has ever been inside your room was when he caught you getting changed while your parents down the road in the village. könig pounded into your soft cunt; his eyes rolled back, lost in the sensation of your tight walls around his lengthy dick.

[konigsblog]

TW: STEPCEST 🌾🍓🧺

Farmer's daughter!Reader x Stepdad!Farmer!König, save me... Do we think he punishes his stepdaughter for not working hard enough on the field, plunging his thick, hard cock into your tight, virgin hole? For mucking around with the farmhand instead?

Do we think he installs cameras without your knowledge and watches you get off at night, your fingers stuffed deep within your mouth and pussy? Do we think he's desperate to keep his stepdaughter pure, act as if you're an angel? Do we think he insists that he must be your first for whatever sick and perverted reason?

[konigsblog]

im a sucker for farmer!koing and rape

Caught lacking on the job? Well, that's no use.

tw/cw; age gap/difference, farmhand!reader x farmer!könig, rape, non-con, punishment, dacryphilia. MDNI 18+ 🌽🌾

Farmer-könig is cruel and violent with his punishments. He expects full effort from you, for you to put your back into it, and to make sure that the job is not only finished, but done properly and efficiently. He doesn't want to catch you slacking or being lazy with your work, he won't allow it, not on his field.

“What do you think you're doing?” König growls out as he catches you not doing your job. Your excuse is that you didn't get a lot of sleep last night, that you're fatigued and want to rest your head. You know for a fact that König will scoff, forcing you back up onto your feet by lifting you up from underneath your armpits. Although, you didn't expect anything more than a simple scolding, not for König to tug at your dress, pulling your cotton panties down to expose you and rub his swollen boner back and forth against your slick folds.

“Don't fuckin' move, Mauschen. Stay still, obey.” He grumbles out, his grubby and grimey hands cupping your lower face, over your mouth to silence your pitiful weeps and whines. You wriggle through horror at the sensation between your legs, attempting to free yourself from his firm grip, before König spanks your rear brutally, bending you over the nearest fence to get to work. König is your only form of making money. Without him, you'd be on the streets, begging for money. You freeze through shock, the smell of sweat filling your nostrils as König begins to push inside, hunched over your body. Your legs shake like jelly, your eyes becoming glossy with tears, and your body shaking and trembling.

“That's it. You'll learn your lesson soon enough.” König chuckles at the power he has over you, how he's in charge and has control over his worker's next movements and words. König isn't gentle with you. He's ruthless, merciless and savage, ploughing into your wetness, the warmth of your smooth walls clamping down around his thick, girthy shaft. You can shake and thrash beneath him, but König's fast pace and tight grip doesn't falter. Each thrust is Hell on Earth for you, your cunt throbbing and drooling around his meaty boner. “So pathetic. I love the sight of your tears, ruining that pretty, little face.”

König is nothing but an old pervert, a bastard whose brutality worsens when he's paired with a pretty, young thing like you.

[konigsblog]

Farmhand!König creeping over farmer's daughter!reader.. 🌾

; König can't help himself from the farmer's daughter.

CW: smut, afab!f!reader. MDNI 18+

König's job is to help your father around on the farm. He takes care of the crops and harvests all the berries and vegetables from the soil while you skip around in a little, skimpy dress that's far too short for a breezy, sunny day. He can see that you're wearing nothing beneath, his breathing becoming laborious and heavy, his eyes widening at the seductive sight.

You know exactly what you're doing. You're purposely riling him up, dancing around and complimenting his skills while he milks the cows. His eyes wander all over your perfect body, distracted by your soft curves and gorgeous ass to pay attention to your sweet voice. König has been warned by your father, threatened and intimidated, not to touch you or get too close.

“You know exactly what you're doing, little one.”

Although, you don't care about your fathers protectiveness. You bend over teasingly, allowing König to admire your ass before he can no longer help himself. He grips you by your throat and pins you against a wall, pushing a thigh in between your soft thighs for you to grind against. You breathe heavily, taking in König's thick, musky scent. The stimulation against your sensitive clit is heavenly, and now, you're the being played with.

König lifts up your skimpy dress and begins to curl his fingers inside your velvety, tight walls. You whimper into his lips and moan out breathlessly, arching your back and biting your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle your needy whines.

“Fuckin’ tease. Stop squirming, Mäuschen... You were asking for this.” König breathes out. His voice is guttural, full of desire as he pumps another digit into your slick wetness. Your folds are coated in a glimmer of your arousal, dripping from your sweet pussy and running down your thighs as König hits that sweet spot over and over again. “Good girl, be quiet, now. You don't want your father to hear, do you?” König's teasing leaves you on edge, desperate for your release.

You can't control yourself as you begin to clamp down around his fingers uncontrollably, your walls pulsing around his calloused, thick fingers while you attempt to hide the desperation and depravity in your whines. König smashes his lips against yours while rubbing his bulge against you, your arousal coating his fingers, running down his palm as you finally release. “That’s it, there we go. So eager, aren't you?”

König will bend you over the nearest fence and will fuck you relentlessly before your father comes to check up on him. God, you really are a distraction, Maus.

[konigsblog]

Farmhand!König x Lamb!Reader... (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠) 🐑

Farmer!Ghost x Cow!Reader (+ Bull!Soap? 👀)

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Huge, broody and terribly lonely older farmer König who pervs on the cute, new, young farmhand girl he hired :((

He kinda expected a cocky young man or a middle aged cranky woman but did expect this sweet little thing to chirp up at him and smile like she's the sun :(( would definitely jerk off to the fantasy of making her his housewife, the farmowner's lady and breeding her good with his babies like the perfect stud he is♡

OhGOD

CW: 18+ ONLY Lonely, pervy farmer!König masturbating at the sight of his young farmhand miss strolling on the farm on her day off :) {implied sexism}

Imagine him expecting a cocky young man he needs to yell at for being on his phone instead of feeding the pigs or whatever, or expecting some muscled, cranky, older lady who knows how to do their job but who would nag at him about stupid things such as not keeping the house clean enough.

Instead, he’s met with a cute, classy young woman at the gate, a meek little thing who stares at him, eyes wide just from the sight of how big he is, lips parting just from taking in his shoulders and the furious furrow of his brow. Her lashes flutter as she extends her hand to greet him, explaining that she may look like a city girl but she can assure that she is a hard-working woman who grew up on a small farm and has recently begun to miss the country way of life.

She has soft hands, soft lips, soft everything, and he knows he’s fucked. She’s everything he has ever hoped for, everything he ever wanted but could never have.

He tries to appear more gentle and less menacing because he doesn’t want to scare her away. Any other spineless, soft young thing he would've thrown out before even letting them stay for the trial period of two weeks – but this little beauty? She can stay, if just for a while.

She’s probably not used to hard work, no matter what she claims; her hands look far too smooth and dainty for the hauling and carrying and raking and cleaning that's required here. He almost feels bad when sending her to do her chores, but she manages the place surprisingly well, and when it’s her day off she wanders around the farm in a cute summer dress, chewing on the hay that dangles from her mouth, leaning on the wooden fence and enjoying the view. There's a wide brim straw hat on her head, and she has to hold it with one hand because it’s so big and floppy that it threatens to cover her eyes. The dress hugs her form just right and has a large, puffy hem that reveals a lovely pair of bare legs, legs that would feel heavenly when wrapped around his hard middle, legs he would make soft and quivering and weak with multiple, tear-inducing orgasms.

She’s a sight for sore eyes, and his dick is hard in a second; there’s really nothing he can do about it.

Usually, he jerks himself off quickly in the morning before rising from the bed, sullen and already grumpy because the only thing that ever sees his love is the cold, cum-stained sheets. The only warm thing ever wrapped around his cock is his own hand, beating the needy flesh in anger and despair because he missed the odd chance of ever seducing a woman to live on this lonely, remote farm with him.

Now he at least has something nice to look at while taking the heavy cock out of his work pants. He’s looking through the window like some perverted stalker; looking at the cutest, most condescending and naive woman on earth, walking on his property like the pretty little decoration she is.

She has all the traits of a perfect housewife: she could cook and bake for him while he does the hard work, she could do the laundry and look nice inside his big old house, finally bringing some much-needed joy and softness into his life. He would make her happy every night: it might take a while to bully his cock into her, but she would eventually like the ugly act; he would make sure of that.

He could eat her stupid little cookings, no doubt healthy and wholesome and lovingly homemade – and he could eat her out come evening. She must taste like the sweetest dessert down there. He would pay for her services in full, he would make it worth her while to be the perfect little wife, he would take care of her and buy her a thousand dresses like the one she wears, if she only warmed his bed at night...

He knows he’s a pervert and a freak, not only a freak of nature with his outrageous height and broad shoulders, but a freak of mind as well. He knows she would wince in disgust if she were to turn around and look at what’s happening behind the window: she would raise that delicate hand on her lips and gasp in shock if she were to see him fapping his drooling cock while watching her in that lush dress, so sweet and innocent and pure.

He can't see it now, but he knows there are beads of sweat gathering between those fragile little collarbones of hers. It's the hottest summer since the year he was born, and he knows the sweat is currently travelling down between those perfect breasts, held plush and perky by that dress he wants to rip to shreds. He would lick that sweat from between her tits and make her moan and tug his head from doing so if she would only let him. His balls pull taut, they almost jump at the thought, and the precum makes the end of the wank a slicky, noisy business.

He’s a bastard and a dog for not even bothering to reach for a piece of paper or a towel, deciding he can just shoot his cum on the window and make her clean it afterwards.

He wonders if the cute little miss will faint when she realizes what he has done... He wonders if the innocent young lady even knows it's loads of cum she's wiping away.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Suddenly I’m a sheep baa

You have such a way with words!!! I love the image of konig sitting down, cooing at his flock, while reader stands to the side, watching… does he even know? Does he know the effect he has on you? Would he even care, if he knew that you’re completely ruined over watching him work… (would he treat you the same, one hand gripping your legs and hands out of his way, tucked up against his chest as his other hand wanders down your chest and against your cunt,,,)

Ahem

Baa.

Baa!!! YEAH I can see it happening in bed as soon as he gets his freak on. It's purely subconscious too! But then I was also thinking how König must be a total softie with all animals... Treating everyone gently and lovingly while reader is pouting & looking from the sidewalks like a third wheel :( Time to pull out the big guns!

CW: Pet play (attempted), dom/sub undertones (implied)

You see him feeding apples to horses, watch how they burrow their muzzles under his arm, he’s always gentle with each and every individual as long as they’re animal and not human... Even the old farm cat gets more love and attention than you :(

He nearly trips on it one morning because it’s purring and meowing at his feet – if a human were to do that they would get slurs and yelling and spit landing on their face... This furry little beast only earns a soft rumble and a low, affectionate “You naughty little devil,” as thanks for showing this bitter cruel man some love.

You even see him pet the cat absentmindedly when he’s doing some paperwork in his office, the loud purrs of the animal making you absurdly jealous. Hearing the roaring content of this cat as a broad, sturdy hand softly pets it from head to tail stirs emotions in you that are wildly inappropriate. You would kill to get this man to pet you, these animals don’t even know how lucky they are...

And maybe he doesn’t even know what he’s missing, seeing only men and animals here at the farm. The only woman, namely, you, is always walking around in rubber boots and dirty oversized overalls. He avoids you like the plague, and treats you more harshly than the young rascals sent here by the state... Men are visual creatures, so perhaps it’s no wonder that he takes no interest in you, some weak miss farmhand who always looks like she came from feeding the pigs... Which is your job here, actually, because König never allows you near his precious horses, let alone the delicate sheep.

So one day, you sneak inside his office and climb on his desk in nothing but your black sheen underwear, now with the addition of a black cat’s tail attached to the bum, with your make up done and wearing a pair of cute little cat ears. This must be the silliest thing I’ve ever done, you think as you push your tits invitingly together while propping yourself on the table like a spoiled house cat would, with your “paws” prettily together and your butt ready to lift from some good petting you fervently wish you’re about to get.

Heavy boots echo in the hall like doom just as you start to shiver from cold. Your heart nearly shoots out of your chest and your tits threaten to spill out of your too small bra, your rival is nowhere to be seen and all the sheep have been sheared so you hope you’ll finally spark this man’s interest in some intimate fun with an actual woman...

He walks in, comes to an instant halt on the door when he sees you, and from the looks of it, the poor man suffers a silent heart attack from seeing a half naked woman on his desk. He freezes right there on the spot, draws air so sharply you can hear it all the way to where you're sitting – all over his papers, innocently like a naughty feline would.

He looks both shocked and furious, but not a word of warning comes out – and how could he be mad at a pretty little thing like you? Donning your silly outfit consisting of black underwear, black cat tail and black cat ears, you even drew yourself some thin whiskers with your black eyeliner...

Your eyes are shy but accusing, they simply ask, why haven't you paid attention to me? Why haven't you played with me, turned me around in your lap any way you like? Where are the soft gazes and shushed praises that belong to me?

And while you were invisible to this man before, you now have his full attention.

His eyes fly to your tits first, then to your tail, they caress the dip and swell of your waist, rise to adore your rib cage and the fluttering pulse at the hollow of your throat, they steal a peek at your cute little ears... There's an endearing flash on softness in his eyes, and when he meets your stare again, he swallows so arduously that the sound of it is audible and thick. A chill runs down your spine as you realize this might not only be the first time in a while that he's seen a half naked woman... This might be the first time he's seen a half naked woman ever.

You give him your most demure gaze, bat your lashes slowly like cats tend to do when they see someone they appreciate and trust, and whisper:

“...Meow?”