#hunt!könig

[notknickers]

RAAHHHHH IM DEF SUPPOSED TO BE MAKING A FRESH BATCH OF DOUGH BUT ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS HUNT!KONIG LEAVING PRESENTS AT HIS S/O’s DOOR LIKE A CAT!! Like its literal gifts at first- flowers he picked,

Then a rat

Then someones ear.

Kinda like van gogh 🤭

Wanting to treat his significant other right.

You have given me a PROBLEMM AUGHH

glad to be of disservice *salutes you

but also, that's so sweet. he loves you so much that he brings you trophies like a serial killer little gifts like a cat.

you are part of his pack/colony/family. hope he brings you many more!

why don't you try dangling one of those tickly feathery cat toys and see if he likes that?

careful how you do it, though. he and his hundreds of kilos of muscles might pounce you and crush you, the little, eager panther that he is! always aim the toy away from yourself.

snarl purr roar goes the werepanther hunt!könig ♥

make him a nice, comfortable crate with a little nest made of soft pillows and blankets: you probably don't want him sleeping in bed with you when he comes back from a hunt, all covered in mud, blood, leaves and patches of fur of unknown origin.

don't be afraid of being assertive, if he tries to hop on the bed all the same or makes those kitty eyes trying to wear down your defences.

sometimes love comes in the form of discipline and rules: he should understand that.

[archive-doll]

𝐼𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝑜𝒹, 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 - 𝒦ö𝓃𝒾𝑔!𝒦𝓇𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃

Author Note: second story of kinktober for me! This one is focused on König, as a Kraken of course, and I tried to give myself some challenge with today's theme. As always, please be sure to read the warnings. Have fun!

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Day 4 of Kinktober : chasing kink / hunting kink

Trigger Warning: chasing prey/hunting kink is not consensual. Mention of sacrifice during medieval times, age gap he's ancient. Sexual penetration with his tentacles. ANGST, but he is very nice to you. König uses his venom on you, by accident → dubious consent. Mention of impregnation, breeding kink. size kink.

It's very long... there is plot, I suppose.

Have mercy on my grammar, english is not my first language, and as always minors do not interact.

You come often, by the river. It often comes from a place of longing, the yearning for freedom making your flesh tingle. Your fingers shake when you take the first step out of your cabin, a heavy scarf wrapped around your throat while the door falls close.

It hasn't been long since you moved into the dainty cabin, at the edge of the mountains. The exuberance of the city, the weight in the air when you slither around the streets, one day after another, became too much. Like a knot around your throat. The decision to leave has not been easy to make. You left all of your life behind, every connection you had - your friends, your works, your favorite coffee shop, the artistic museums.

But, as the cold air slides around the crevice of your fingers, there is no regret in that decision. Your garden still needs some readjustment, and your cabin a few renovations but the constriction fades away as soon as your eyes find the lines of the trees. Your legs shift without you needing to think of it, carrying you deeper into the wilderness.

It had rained for a few days, making the ground sloppy, but your feet easily make way after weeks of wandering in the mountains. You never cross anyone during your little escapades, only noticing traces of animals. Sometimes, hearing an owl, or the scurrying motions of a rodent.

You never feel safer than in the woods. Everywhere you look, there is only the undying beauty of nature. From the branches of the trees that dance beneath the wind to the smell that only comes with the rain.

There is freedom, with being the only human in the surroundings. It makes you feel small but in a good way. In a way that cradles your heart and makes your soul feel comforted because the world is so much bigger than you.

A little cloud emerges when you exhale, your body muffled into your coat. It's not long before you find yourself by the bed of the river, the gentle current like a lullaby as you approach. The oppressing weight that appears with your anxiety, lessens around your shoulders when you breathe into the quietness.

The path you take changes with the day, and the reason for your anguish. Tonight, you take the short travel, staying by the bed of the river uncaring of the mud that is starting to smudge along your boots. Watching the river flow along the mountains, making its way - ever so slowly taking a place for itself through the earth is relaxing enough.

Your nose is cold as you finally see the sea there, careful in your steps as you descend the little hill. With a sniffle, you push your hands deeper into your pockets, not sensing the eyes that follow your movement.

There are little movements that break the peace, creating little waves along the surface of the water, and you innocently think it's fish there or the slight breeze. It's dark here, which gives the landscape an eerie feeling that you relish in. A slight branch cracks beneath the sole of your feet before you step over the rock, finding one stable and large enough to accommodate your body.

A sigh escapes your lips; curling your legs against your chest, you nestle your chin into the creak of your knees. Here, in the meadows, the skyline is visible and you can see numerous stars that shine, their light finding you. It's reassuring, a gentle reminder that the world is bigger than you - bigger than the reasons that made you flee the city.

A splash in the water echoes around, water licking up at the rocks under you. You miss it, the tentacles that emerge for a second from the deepness, and you don't see either the red pupils that catch the light of the moon. Innocent little thing that you are, when the sea comes to great the ground, you simply think it is the tide.

The monster, him, creeps closer. Your smell and the sudden noises are known to him, after your multiple visits. Before, humans used to come to their domain in search of penitence. An old village even offered sacrifices in the hope of a good harvest. It has been years since a human appeared, and even longer since one looking so delectable.

Your cheeks are full. There is a softness in the line of your jaw and a plushness in your mouth. You seem ripe for the taking, with a sway in your thighs when you walked to him - an offering, just for him to have. They wonder, how you will look, with their tentacles slithering along the curves of your flesh, how hard he can tighten around you. How deep they could reach, how many of them they could sink into your body.

You are not aware, when the first tip of its flexible limb finds suction on the rock. There is a little distance between you and them, half a meter, beneath you, so close to its prey. And the sea is profound there, easily swallowing his stature. His breath hitch, watching ravenously how your eyes flutter up at the sky. You look so precious, there. A treasure for him to keep.

You hum in the safety of your perch, the humid wind prickling at your nose. The sea is moving beneath you, its own entity, and each wave is like a breath - it's hypnotizing. A little squeak comes then, breaking the gentle trance you put yourself into, and as your gaze was to flickers down if only by instinct, a burning rope tightens around one of your ankles.

A scream breaks your throat, the sudden constriction making you wail as you flap your arms around in terror. You're too scared to touch it, and your fingers find solace on the sharp edges of the rock when you cry out, heartbeat resonating in your ears. With one kick, the bottom of your foot collapses against a mass, and the rope twitches before lessening, but you can't stop shaking.

"Oh, god!" You whine, stumbling backward with a pump of adrenaline falling from your previously safe place.

The darkness of the night suddenly appears threatening. Your eyes catch forms, and you think you see something there but, there is no certainty in the madness that rises in your mind. The mystery coming along with the sea now is threatening, raising a dangerous need to flee.

The patch of flesh that has been clutch burns, even through the material of your jeans. Your palms fumble back until they dig into the ground, the slime of the earth making you slip.

"Fuck!" You gasp, skittering when your shoulders hit the ground, splatters of mud find your profile, and the air is suddenly taken away from you. Hair pressing into the ground, the rocks are hard beneath your leg, and you groan, immobilized for a moment by the lack of oxygen and the pain in your upper back.

A hissing sound crawls into the whistling of your ears, and you whine, hands trembling. The crawling of the sea is not what you notice first, as you come back to your senses. It should be, really, with how the surface appears to rise, and the water defiling gravity. The tide growing stronger, but no. Your mind, still dizzy from the shock and mixed signals, settles on the shadow creeping toward you.

You hear little sounds, peculiar noises like a clicking of teeth, and see slithering silhouettes writhing closer. A squeak leaves you as you try to escape, nails scraping against a hard surface, the fat of your hips jiggling when you roll to your front. The sight of you, and the softness that they can see as your coat and garment ride create and rumble across their chest.

"Little one..."

You were moving to get on your feet, wide eyes filled with fear flickering across the line of the tree when the thunderous voice erupts through the air. Maybe it's instinct, maybe it's the pain in your joints but you cease - bursts of air passing through your clenched teeth.

Everything in you is telling you to run, from your shaking hands to the prickling at your nape but, for some reason, it might be the need to know, to have a face at what makes you so scared. You're not certain, but you still for an instant, a matter of seconds, and tilt your head back. Your eyes move around, unable to focus after the hit against the ground, until you see slithering strands.

Your brows quirk in a curl of anguish and you think it is your imagination, might even be a hallucination from that previous fall. But, the more you concentrate, the less it appears to be a vision. The slithers are all connected, on top of the mountainly creature facing you. The clicking sound is still there, stronger, and there is a hiss as your hands reach further when you understand what it is.

Tentacles.

"Where are you going? Mäuschen, you cannot leave me."

The shiver is like a knife, skinning you alive, from head to toe when their voice arises. No, you can't stay, you need to run, you have to move.

In a blur, your knees shift and you are running. You are not fast enough or barely, with how your ankle burns and your head still spinning. Still, you try and don't look behind, too scared of what you will discover next time. Because behind you is an enormous creature, bigger than the whole sky, with a head filled with tentacles. A monster in the flesh.

Danger, your brain says, and you believe it.

Everyone knows, that running from a predator is not a good idea - actually, it's not recommended at all. When you first started to live out there, all alone in the woods, you took a few courses and learned how to behave if you ever found yourself in proximity to a predator. But, the instructor only told you what to do around a bear, hell, even a wolf.

What are you supposed to do, around a being that emerges from the sea, with a head filled with flimsy appendages coming from their head? You're pretty certain that simply standing there, trying to make yourself bigger, is not going to cut it.

What is the next best thing, then? Running, your adrenaline brain tells you. Your ankle burns with every shift, and you think it might even be swollen with how heavy your feet appear to be, but you don't stop. Not even when the clicking sound worsens, almost angrily, and you race across the salty swamp.

Your feet slide and barely find refuge on the ground, the heavy rain that had fallen early this week making you stumble with every step you take. The wind is harsher now, crashing through your body and making you deviate your course without your knowledge - until you're rushing along the edge of the cliff.

They are close behind, you can feel it. With every stride you try to take, every inhale engulfing your lungs, you can feel them right behind you. Two steps closer, a breath of distance. The tide had risen, and the waves crashed along the shore as you ran away, avoiding the bushes and the fallen branches.

Danger, danger, danger.

"Maüschen!"

The curls in your brow deepen when the voice growls in your ears, hair now sticking along the lines of your jaw, jeans heavy with the dampness of the air, and the splatters of the sea that reached you.

"No, no! Please!" It's useless to cry, it does not stop the burning at the back of your eyes when you see the tentacles from the corner of your eyes, your body bending forward as if to reach out for safety, in the last moment of hope.

The moment you feel one of them slither at your nape, you yelp, hand flailing in the air in front of you but they find your wrist too, the slimy appendages. All at once, they curl around you, sticky things pushing beneath the cover of your clothes, crawling along the plane of your body - you're caught.

They caught you.

"Sh, no need to cry, little one." The grumble is soft when they press themselves at your back, and you sob in fear, your exhaustion taking its toll on your mind, too.

Before you can process any of it, two very large arms surround your waist, cold and wet hands smoothing up your belly to grasp at your waist - and then your feet are dangling in the air. The tentacles do not hurt, you realize, when they flush you into their chest, a few feet up in the air.

They coddle you with every rubbing motion of their hands; even the tentacles seem to try to comfort you in their own way. They're tight around you, keeping you from fleeing again, but they slimmer along like a caress when you plead again. The ones around your jaw paddle along your flesh, circling it softly, and with a gentle push, it forces your head back, into what you think is a very broad shoulder.

"Shush, no tears."

Pearly tears fall into your cheeks when your hands are being pressed into your sides, preventing any movements. Hiccups make your breasts heave and the fear tremble in your knees. It coos at you again, their grumbling voice so close you can almost taste the words in your mouth until two red orbs find themselves in your line of sight.

"It is okay, Maüschen, you are okay."

It makes you uneasy, to have this creature binding you to them so easily, their appendages breaching your intimacy with how they swirl and push beneath your clothes - even now, passing the band of your jeans to knead at your thighs. But they are trying to comfort you; you can hear it. Their voice is softer now, and their head cocks to the side in a very animalistic way, their nose pushing into the softness of your cheek.

You wail at the proximity, fat droplets aching your skin as they fall from your eyes - they coo at you again, a thin mouth grazing your skin when they talk.

"No hurt, promise."

Your nose scrunches at the pain in their voice, and you sniffle loudly, snot passing your nostrils with your frantic state. The motions along your body leave a trail of what you think is saliva behind, kneading each inch of your flesh they find. Almost in a patting motion.

"No - no hurt?" You repeat dumbly, hands curling and twitching into the binding they have forced you into.

"No. Safe, Maüschen," they indulge you of course, and a cold mouth trails along your cheek in clumsy kisses unit they find the corner of your eyes. The temple of your soul, where they lick at your anguish.

"What are you?" You ask between cries, the little jolts in your shoulders becoming sparse as their hand rubs circles into your belly, pressing gentle pets at your hips.

The snap of the button of your jeans is unheard as they hiss again, and you make sense of the sound when you see the gills by their temples opening with the light of the moon. From so close, their face almost sinking into your own, you see the bloom of their tentacles across their chin and jaw, pink and white suction cups twitching in the air as if tasting your scent.

"You people named me Krake. I am König."

The flimsy libs that spread around your body almost have a mind of their own, as you watch them - him, blinks at you almost innocently. You don't see any sadism in his eyes, no hunger for pain, or anger. Mostly curiosity in how he nudges your hair with his nose to breathe beneath your ear. Slight arousal too, in the glint that settles in him.

You squirm, feeling the tentacles pushing deeper into your pants, some reaching to your knees, others circling your thighs, the suckering becoming slightly harder as they pass by your sensitive skin. The ones along your torso do not relent either; the gestures are more determined when they cradle the swell of your breasts.

"Oh, oh, no, not - !" You gasp, arms tensing into the restraints and he hums into you, their massive frame shifting closer as one circles your nipple. It's wet, and warmer than in the beginning, the sensation strangely addicting when one suckles at the hardening bud with no intention to leave. It makes your eyes roll back at the sudden contact, the eager suckles coating your flesh with heat.

"You are very warm, Schatz." He mumbles, lips caressing the slope of your throat as they bend their neck, your thighs clenching close when the tentacles ramp at the seams of your legs.

"Yes, warm - you, fire, I can, fire!" You gasp, trying to get his attention elsewhere, but you're not making any sense. Your eyes roll back when one presses against the gusset of your underwear, drifting right along the lips of your sex. It's wet, and it's thick as it caresses you, strong enough to make your hole weep and wink at the tentacles battling for the first taste of you.

"Fire?" König repeats, opening their mouth as he licks a patch of your skin, tasting the fear and the tears of your skin, a slightly sugary thing that makes him crave more. It's stronger the more he slinks himself along your soft cotton panties, starving for the solace of your pussy. "Flame."

"Yes, yes, flames - oh god." You squirm in his hold with a whimper, but now, it's not with the desire for distance, or to leave and disappear. Your hips grind down, and the previous burn at your ankle is more like a gentle warmth now, flooding along your legs, which shake and part when the probing at your entrance lulls your mind into a gentle pleasure.

"Little one, cold? Venom makes mortal weak."

A rumbling noise passes your lips, drooling tongue finding the corner of your mouth before König licks straight into it, groaning into you as he suckles your saliva with eagerness. You taste sweeter than he had imagined, the redness in his eyes darkening as he feels the sticky wetness dripping between your legs. Pure ambrosia, for him to delight in.

You barely understand his words, until you do, hooded eyes blinking down at him with confusion, finding König sniffling at your collarbone. His body curls around you as he continues fondling your tits, coat almost half raised to your shoulders, and your mouth part when his thumb pushes beneath one tentacle to pinch your harden teat.

It's a luscious sight, a naughty vision, some half-male half-creature thing, nipping and suckling at your skin into it blooms pink. The bottom of your clothing rustles up to reveal the blossom of your breasts, where his hands roam to accompany the tentacles lavishing your flesh.

It distracts you, the difference in size, your body levitating in the air while being groped so tenderly, his hands swallowing the heaviness of your tits with no hesitation. But, it breaks through the half-conscious state you are in, if only just slightly, and your lips graze humid skin when you turn to look at him better.

"Venom - you said?"

"Yes. In your blood. You're a feast, Maüschen." He groans, tongue slithering up, finding the little swell of the Adam's apple in your throat, before sucking on it. It hurts, but it's so nice, a distraction that makes your toes curl as he finally breaches into your cunt ever so gently. "Was not on purpose, you startled me then."

You gargle at the mixed sensation, the tentacles sucking and gushing into your wetness, twitching and thrusting their way in - one suckling, brazen, your clit. Your hips shatter, knees jolting upward once as he sinks deeper. Your jeans are slowly pushed apart beneath the strength of the appendages, too weak to keep you hidden under the assault of his desire.

"Where is your home, little one? Into the forest?" He murmurs, nipping now at the shell of your ears, watching how your skin shines under the stars, damp with his saliva. Soon, his little one will be flooding enough for him to feast.

König watches you, nodding with parted lips, a hazy sparkle in your eyes as your body jolt with the intrusion, your cunt parting to accommodate the heavy girth of his tentacles. Slowly clenching around each implacable limbs that undulate, in search of your womb. You keen again, hips stuttering upward in the air when one curls into you, bulging out with gentle thrusting, making you ooze onto the ground beneath.

"Good little mouse, let us then, you'll need the warmth for when I impregnate you, Schatz." He groans into your ear, his chubby cock thrusting into the plush of your bottom in rhythm with the starving suckle along your clit. His saliva is already making an effect. Soon, you'll be all mushy and sweet, just how he likes it.

And, he doesn't mind making you run, on the way there. The sight of you, all curves and fat, trying to abscond will help him relieve himself from his heavy seed, which he needs to do if he does not want to burst at the first sheath into your sweet pussy.

© archive-doll - all rights reserved. reposting or modifying, including translating or use on AI, is not permitted. original characters are not my own, but the stories and the writing are.

[bitchdafuqyousay]

ON G O D if anyone ever hears me say “ooh i’ll draw König in his ghillie suit again” fucking punch me in the gut i’m never drawing that bitch ass grass getup ever again

[darkworkcourier]

Der Waidmann - König/gn!reader

Content includes CNC (reader and König agreed to the scene beforehand, but please be mindful of this), chasing and pursuit, fighting, choking, dryhumping, clothed sex, and aftercare. Reader is gender-neutral and not physically described in any way except for some clothing.

(This is very, very inspired by @toxooz's incredible art over here.)

---

It's freezing. Real, bone-deep kind of cold that feels more like a liquid soaking into your clothes. You shiver, tucking your hands back into your sleeves, folding the ends of the sleeves over and clutching the bunched-up hem in your fists to try to keep the worst of the chill out.

Building a fire is out of the question. It's a waxing moon tonight, and the moonlight would easily catch on a column of smoke. The smell would travel. Worst of all, it could calm you down and lull you into dropping your guard. The cold may be brutal, but at least it keeps you awake.

Warm thoughts, you repeat in your head. Even your mind's speaking in whispers, afraid to raise your mental voice like he'll hear you somehow. So you think about cups of warm tea and curls of steam—the image a silent tableau. You imagine the smell of it, the sensation of steam damp on your palm as your hand hovers over the cup. In your mind's eye, you see your hand reach out for the handle, and—

Crack.

You freeze.

Cold crawls up your body, an animal slithering with glee as the warmth of motion fades. Fear is its climbing partner, equally frigid—except it enters you, curls like frost in your belly, grips your vocal cords in a steel-cold claw. The only thing that dares to move is your heart, beating traitorously loud.

Every sound in the forest seems magnified now; leaves rustling loud as gunshots, the wind whistling through the branches at a screaming decibel. You listen for footsteps, for any sign that you're being followed.

There's no way to tell how long you stand still. Your feet ache, your skin itches with the cold, your shoulders stiff and sore. Moonlight filters through the high tree canopy and dapples your skin like a fawn's spots, and you imagine your stillness makes you seem like part of the forest. At least, you hope that's true, that whatever follows you is just as fooled by the accidental camouflage.

If it's still following you.

You wait a moment longer; how long is impossible to say. Long enough that you don't hear another human-made sound aside from your own stilted breathing and reckless pulse. Eventually, you decide it's safe to move—to proceed to safety, wherever that is.

All you manage is one step.

One step, and then there's cold steel at your throat; the flat of a blade, collaring you, rendering you frozen once more. There's no bite of the business side, but you know better than to try to get out of the loose hold.

Then, from behind you, close to your ear, you hear, "Careless."

You have only a second to register the voice, to check it for familiarity and run it against the repository of people in your mind. A second isn't enough, and suddenly you're struck from behind, an arm against your mid-back that knocks you to the ground. On instinct, your hands go out to brace, just as the knife's yanked away and mercifully doesn't catch you. Pain lances up your arms as you hit the dirt, twigs snapping and scratching your face. The air is knocked out of your lungs, and even in the dark, you see twinkling sparks dancing in your vision.

The impact also disorients you, and another rough shove to your side sends you sprawling onto your back, unsure which direction you're facing or where to look. You see stars blinking through the tree canopy—they whirl like pinwheels as you try to get your senses back to normal.

Just in time to see the glint of a blade and the flash of two eyes in the darkness.

Fear overtakes reason—the animal sense of freezing up, accepting the end as it approaches with furious speed and deadly accuracy, the immediate surrender of prey to predator. You gasp and screw your eyes shut, like shutting down one sense will somehow dull the others.

Instead, it makes the dull thunk beside your head all the louder.

Silence follows. Not oppressive. Not stifling. It's the strange silence of the forest, active and alive, yet completely uncaring of your situation—the silence of being ignored. You catch the sound of your attacker's breathing, hard pants filtered through fabric. When you finally do open your eyes, you see him as a silhouette over you, and only then do you register his weight over your hips, his arms on either side of your head. When you manage to turn to find the source of the strange sound beside you, your eyes adjust to allow you to see the assailant's knife driven into the earth with enough force to bury the blade to the hilt.

"Fuck," you breathe out, your first spoken word in hours.

Then you reluctantly turn your attention back to the attacker. You see now that he blends in with the forest, his enormity covered in vines and leaves on a ghillie suit. There was no way you would have spotted him earlier.

He seems pleased with himself, judging by the way his voice rolls out of him in a purr. "Any last words?" he asks.

Before what, exactly? Before he throttles you to death, or chokes the life out of you? You almost mean to ask, but the cold grip of fear is starting to ebb, giving way to the primal need to fight, to escape. He has the size advantage, clearly; however, you're fast, and you know there has to be a way to buy time with the advantages you do have.

"Just one or two," you say.

When he leans in to hear you, the smug victory rolling off him like the heat you can feel through your clothes, you wait. He gets closer.

Closer.

And you immediately reach up with both hands, thumbs pointed, directed toward his eyes. Whether or not you actually hit them, you can't tell. You feel something warm, and then that lively silence of the forest gives way to a bellow of fury. He instinctively reaches up to either grab at you or shove you away to protect his face, but seems caught in split-second indecision. You take that brief second for the blessing it is, scrambling out from underneath him and taking off at a clip through the forest.

There's no doubt he's in pursuit. You don't need to look over your shoulder or stop to listen to know this. Furthermore, you can't spare the half second you'd need to check, as you need every increment of time available to get as much distance between you and him as possible. The overarching goal isn't clear yet—there's no base to run back to, no hiding place you know of, no miraculous weapons cache to raid. You're defenseless, save for what your hands and feet can do, but you're not planning to roll over and admit defeat quite yet.

So you run. You sprint. Every breath burns, every blister on your feet screams in protest. If you manage to live through the night, you'll certainly need more than a day to recover.

Yet you're also running night-blind. The moonlit forest floor is an illusory carpet of false elevation and strange textures. Over and over, you catch yourself from tripping, from running directly into a downed tree or a large stone. The only thing you can possibly count on is that he's in the same situation, running through unfamiliar territory with only his instincts to guide him.

Possibly count on does not mean definitely count on, though.

Because you're suddenly struck from behind again, a hard impact to your spine that sends you sprawling. The only consolation is that you manage to twist around and grab him on the way down. You hear a grunt of pain as both of you fall, and you hiss in response when a tree root catches your ribs.

Unfortunately, you're more dazed than he is. While you have to take a second longer to get your bearings again, he's back on you, this time holding you down with one enormous arm on your throat, cutting off your air supply with terrifying efficiency.

"Clever, Kaninchen," he snarls. You can't see him, but you imagine he's baring his teeth, biting out the words like a wolf snapping its jaws. "But I'm not foolish enough to let you go twice."

It's a threat he's clearly capable of enforcing. You struggle underneath him, your lungs aching, fingers weakly clawing at him as though your effort might be enough. The forest grows darker around you—a black curtain falling onto you during your final act. The animal resistance flares just once more, nails digging into his skin, legs trying to kick up; it's all for nothing.

Suddenly, his arm lets up. You're flooded with frigid air, causing you to cough and sputter as your vision practically whites out. Everything fucking aches, and you try to reorient yourself around the bare fact that you're somehow alive after all this.

But then his hands go to your shoulders, pinning you to the cold earth, damp seeping into your clothes and hair. You wince and hoarsely bark out a protest, but whatever sound you aim to make beyond that is promptly drowned out the moment you feel him change position—his legs move so they now bracket one of yours, and he rolls his hips against your thigh.

For a spare, dizzy moment, you think you hallucinated the sensation. Then he does it again, with a little more force. He grunts, breathes heavier, leans down so the fabric of his hood brushes over your face. You smell sweat and dirt on him, and something pungently metallic—blood, maybe. He ruts against your thigh again and again while his weight presses down like a hydraulic force on your shoulders, causing them to ache horrendously. Yet the pain feels like a background suggestion as you marvel in the sensation of him humping your goddamn leg. He's obviously hard, his arousal more than present against you, and he quickens his pace so it becomes all the more obvious.

Your voice is pathetic, but you manage a baffled, "What?"

Only to be met by one gloved hand over your mouth, the smell of gun oil reeking in your nose. "Ruhig," he snarls. You can feel the heat of his breath on your face through the hood. "Stay quiet or I'll make you."

This threat doesn't feel as forceful, but it could simply be dulled by your own confusingly persistent arousal matching his. Every thrust of his hips has you gasping against his palm, your own hips moving on their own accord.

Obviously, he notices.

His pace stutters once and you see the silhouette of his head move a little. Then, he laughs. It's low, starting deep in his chest before rising in pitch. It then tapers off in an amused sigh. "Enjoying yourself, Kaninchen?" he asks, although the teasing tone is blunted by the way he redoubles his pace on your thigh.

You can't nod or shake your head. All you can do is breathe hard through your nose, small moans breaking loose from your better sense.

"Thought so," he says, then hisses on a particular thrust and drag.

For a long while, that's all there is. You beneath him, feeling him fuck himself on your thigh, his breathing staggered and quick, while you fight back your own arousal even though it's a losing battle. All thoughts of attempting to survive beyond this little rendezvous fade out, and in their place are fantasies of him pulling down your pants, fucking you properly, teasing you to the brink of madness while still wearing those gun oil-stained gloves.

His hips suddenly jerk, and with the motion, you hear him draw in a sharp gasp and let out the air as a grunt. Once more, twice. Then you feel him frantically chasing his orgasm as he pins your leg to the dirt with his full weight.

He's going to come just from rutting on your thigh, completely clothed. Holy shit.

You groan against his glove as you feel the friction burn on your leg, then the ache of him holding you down with his hips. He bites off another loud moan, then lets it loose as a primal growl that sends shivers down your spine before they dissipate as hot sparks in your belly. You feel a new heat, damp against your leg, as he comes harder than you've ever heard or felt anyone do before.

You lay there, stunned, his hand still on your mouth, but one of his fingers half-worked between your teeth. You can taste leather and something bitter, and before you can explore that any further, he suddenly takes his hand away.

There's a sweep of air, scented with pine and frost, then sweat and blood—and then there are lips on yours.

And teeth sharp on your bottom lip.

It's over as quick as it begins. A fae kiss, fast and sharp enough to confuse and startle you, before leaving you wondering if it happened at all.

Then he's off of you, his otherworldly silhouette as tall as the trees around it him, it seems. You have only a moment to stare up in something like awe, at the speckled starlight haloing his head. Then, in a voice like a scrape of earth and a crackle of broken ice, he says, "Run, Kaninchen."

And you're off again.

---

"I am so sorry— Fuck, is that another one? Is that from my hand?"

The narrow cubicle of the shower is full of fragrant steam, but mostly full of König's sheer size, cramming you into a tiny tiled corner. His hands frantically hover over your skin, finding old and new marks before he frets over them.

Not for the first time, you wave his hands away. "It's fine," you tell him once more. "I would have said something if it was too much."

"But it was too much," he replies quickly, and immediately, his hands are back. They seem magnetized to your throat, finding where he nearly choked you out.

And your hands are on his arm again, although the gesture is far less frantic than it was in the woods. "I asked you to do that part," you remind him. "I like choking, remember?"

König looks wounded, even as the water drips off his hair and cascades over his shoulders from the showerhead level with his upper back. "I know," he concedes, but he doesn't sound pleased about it.

You reach up and stroke his wet cheek, finding a bruise on him from your thumb. You found out after the scene that you did get him in the left eye, but just jabbed the lower part of the right socket, giving him a solid black eye. Your apology was less repetitive, but nonetheless heartfelt. "It was fun," you reiterate. "Yes, I'm sore as hell, and I feel like I could sleep for a week, but I had the time of my life out there."

"Running from me," he groans, lowering his head to rest on your shoulder. You roll your eyes and reach up to hug him, even if the height difference makes it difficult.

"Oh, and you totally didn't have fun chasing me down."

König's quiet for a moment, before you feel him sigh against you and nod, just a little. "Ein bisschen," he mutters.

You grin and turn your head to kiss his cheek, delighting in the sensation of him leaning into it. "Tell you what," you say, stroking up and down his spine, your touch careful as you're mindful of where he said he was sore. "You can make it up to me by being as gentle as humanly possible once we're back in bed."

You can feel him smile against you, his arms going up to wrap around your waist.

"Absolut," he replies. "I'd like nothing more than that."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

https://twitter.com/xe0_xeo/status/1772005210187309153?s=46&t=TTpknKNZjD2lyd8FWmbckw

this is so könig i’m frothing at the mouth

Link

Can I just say that there's no way this Archduke fucks normal ^^

[comfortless]

with every bit of respect i can muster you deserve the sloppiest head for in our angelhood. the cocteau twins title? the ambience? the way that you describe konig’s mannerisms? reader considering him an angel even after the violence (even with everyone else seeing him as the opposite)? that fic is easily one of the most beautiful things that i have ever fucking read. every line is pure poetry and it’s like reading a love letter to konig himself. if he were real I would force him to read it before hand delivering him to your doorstep 

oh…… hold on…….. i need a minute……. this ask did something irreversible to me…..

[alerudies]

ghost (6'4"), soap (5'8"), and könig (6'10") height comparison !!

[the-froschamethyst4]

Viking! König

————

Viking! König Headcanons

NSFW

————

————

Viking König who starts making sharper weapons to slaughter his enemies

Viking König who has a soft spot only for his wife. You came from a different village, one that König is known for “collecting their tax” for his protection. You were part of an arranged marriage because your family couldn’t pay him, so you where the payment

Viking König who won’t let anything happen to you. You both grew to love each other

Viking König has a bit of that dad body with a bit of muscle to him

Viking König who is covered in traditional tribal tattoos for his bravery as a warrior and clan leader

Viking König who lives kind of secluded from everyone else but everyone knows where to find him if anything happens

With that being said Viking König like to take baths in the river with you naked joining him in the same river you both washing dirt off each other and it leads into something more

Viking König has started to like walking around his home naked or half naked and likes for you to join him

Viking König who loves seeing your face, moaning his name or placing your small hands on his lower stomach knowing he is way bigger than you and you look sexy as hell under him

Viking König who’s favorite position is missionary because he loves seeing your face while you are under him taking him so well

Viking König who carries you on his arm showing you off in a way, you are all giddy when he flexes and you are slightly raised up

Viking König who treats you like the Queen or Princess you are. You sit on his lap in the great dining hall with the entire clan. He let’s you eat from his plate that was more of a feast than anything

Viking König who eats you out on the big table with the clan members acting like nothing is happening

Viking König loves being home and sees his wife walking around the home nothing but bare skin

Viking König who loves you laying on the warm furs on your shared bed

“How could you look so beautiful?” You just shrug at his comment

Viking König who loves seeing you get off with nothing but your fingers, your warm bodies finally getting close to each other and he starts to help you out

Viking König who hates being interrupted while his time with you

“Someone better be dying!” König yells.

Viking König who is intimidating, buff, cold, ruthless, and cruel, the little time he has with you and it gets interrupted by someone he’s pissed

Viking König who sits on his throne as a traitor was amongst his clan

Viking König who lets the traitor take an axe to the face and head and then goes back to you

Viking König who starts wanting a child

Viking König who takes his time with the baby making till you were comfortable with the idea of having to carry a baby around in you for 9 months

Viking König who treats you like you were glass. His hands always holding you as you tried to move around the clan

Viking König who scares off all the man who thought you looked even more sexier when you were pregnant

“How dare they look at you?” König growls while looking down at you

“I’m okay, König,” you tell him, patting his arm.

Viking König who becomes a tad jealous of your baby always latched to you

Viking König who is seen as the best father

Viking König who takes your sons hunting for the first time. He shows your son how to shot a bow, it started out with fish and he made his way to start hunting turkey and deer next

Viking König who sees your daughters making things out of leaves and flowers. Flower crowns, and woven baskets, he like carrying them around for her as she collects her materials for more things to make

Viking König who sends his kids to bed early because he loves to have his time with you, making love to you and kissing every square inch of your body just hear your soft moans

Viking König who loves having date night in a stream of water naked with you, you two drinking and it became very heated in the water

Viking König who likes to play with his children, having a lot of kids and he spends all of his time with them the best her could

Viking König who gets caught in the middle of his daughters braiding his hair, putting flowers in his hair, curling his hair with pinecones and they pretended to give him more tattoos

Viking König who plays 'hide and seek' with his sons, showing them how to not get caught by the enemy and how to be sneaky when also hunting.

"I found you Leon," König says, pointing an arrow at his son hiding behind a tree.

"Dad~" he groans, coming out from behind the tree.

"I saw you Claus," he comes out from the tree, that Leon was behind.

"Felix, go wash up, your mother will hate seeing you covered in mud. If I can see you, your enemy will too," König says as he walked back to his home with his boys behind him.

Viking König who starts training himself to get ready for when he has to leave you and his children for a battle

Viking König who hates when he has to leave, he's leaving you to handle 5 kids on your own

Viking König who started a big feast before he has to leave

[gremlingottoosilly]

Slasher!König and his oblivious wife? 🎀

Konig loves his wife. She is a pretty smart thing - always knows when the food had run out and he needs to drive to the nearest grocery shop, and always knows where did he put his combat gear when he returns from a hunt and forgets where he dropped it. She is a pretty and clever little thing who knows how to kiss him exactly right when he is too fucking angry at some dumb survivors after an unsuccessful hunt, and you know when to leave him alone so he can spend some quality time with his hauntingly good taxidermy. Konig has a smart wife - but it doesn't mean you're smart enough to pick up at signs. Like when you kiss him and he smells of blood - not some occasional splotches that you can get from skinning a deer. You don't ask because you don't want him getting nervous - you know how anxious he can get whenever you ask him some uneasy questions, and you don't want to make him feel bad. You don't have a reason not to trust him, so you just press your face in his chest and let him lull you into a sense of security. Konig loves you like this - cute, obedient, as pliant as a pretty wife can be. You stopped worrying about living in a cozy house closer to the forest, which he adores - and you stopped trying to get out of the house on your own, too scared after the news of some psycho wolf tearing through the poor victims just around. Konig would always assure you that there is nothing to be afraid of - and you let him kiss away your fear, treating you as gently as he can. Sometimes Konig slips - some dumb tourist running away, almost in your hands, finding a way around the house and trying to break to safety. Konig knows better than to stash victims in a basement of his own house, but sometimes he almost wishes you weren't as oblivious so he could just reveal his true side to you and break you into a fully obedient little thing. Oh, but he can't - he actually likes you, and he likes those stupid little decorations you put on the porch, and he likes having your warm body next to his in bed, and he likes to listen to your rambling about the weather and the show you watched. He has to actually hide his tracks, stop coming home drenched in blood, and with the newest trophy strapped to his hip. It's all worth it when he returns from having to hunt a bunch of dumb college students, and he is met with the sight of his precious wife bending over a stove to get the cookies out of the oven. It's even more worth it when he can come and startle you with a few kisses on your neck - he lifts the mask around you, always wanting to press his face against your body - and then lift your skirt to bury his tongue in your pussy, too distracted to actually use his fingers. He just wishes you'll never stop being his adorable and oblivious wife while he is too busy hunting the dumb tourist in his forest.

[machveil]

silly thoughts for the wee early morning hours

Retired!König low-key becoming a cryptid in a small town. he’s finally retired and is done with dealing with people regularly. he moves out into the country, buys up a fixer-upper. the house’s driveway is nearly unnoticeable in the tree line and foliage. the house itself? it really should be condemned, it’s completely abandoned and crumbling apart. there’s mold, rotting wood, half the roof has collapsed in on itself. but König likes working with his hands, having a project like this will keep him happily busy

unfortunately, Retired!König walking around in the woods becomes a small town story. “Mama— mama, I saw somethin’ in the trees!”, “Hey, did you see that? No— no, c’mere, what the hell is that?”, “Guys— you wouldn’t believe what I saw! I was taking a walk in the woods this morning and I saw this massive figure! No, it wasn’t a bear, I know what a bear looks like, Nathan.”, König isn’t even aware people have been spotting his hulking figure in the woods. he chops his own wood, forages, hunts when he can

Retired!König goes into town as little as possible. he only goes if he needs something he can’t make, grow, or find in the woods. so… yeah, a store run here and there is necessary. but what he didn’t expect was to be talking to the cashier. König doesn’t engage in small talk often, a rarity, but when they mention the small town cryptid he chuckles, “I doubt it, there’s nothing out there.”. König elaborates a little when the cashier raises an eyebrow, tells the kid working the register that he lives out there

Retired!König being told, “Hey man, just saying. Be careful out there, who knows? Could be a monster out there.”. when König left town that day he scoffed to himself, a monster in the woods. what a joke, monsters aren’t real - humans are worse than any imaginary creatures. well… he thinks that until he saw a newspaper a month later coming out of the store. a photo slammed on the front page, a blurry shadow moving through the woods. he only paused because he recognized the hood the ‘figure’ was wearing

[tawnfawn]

intoxicated | könig

summary: you get along with everyone on your team, except for könig. you think he hates you, but his perceived distaste for you only makes you want him more. you're able to keep your composure until you're partnered up for a mission, where everything seems to go wrong...

tags: könig x fem!reader smut. cod. pure filthy, shameless smut. sex pollen. proofread. MDNI. 5,000+ words

cw: dubcon (due to sex pollen but there's clear consent before and after). unprotected sex (reader IS on birth control, wrap it before you tap it), p in v, oral m!receiving, fingering, accidental drug use (sex pollen), dom!könig and sub!reader, light humiliation kink, heavy praise, size kink if you squint, overstimulation, mutual pining, violence, killing.

MDNI. NSFW BELOW THE CUT

You crept around the corner of the warehouse with your rifle, watching König’s six as you progressed. The other KorTac members were stationed on site as well, giving quick updates through comms as you progressed. Details were scarce, except that in the warehouse, a Russian terrorist group was producing a bioweapon capable of mass destruction—and anyone inside was KOS.

Of course, the bioweapon in question was…dubious, to say the least. A strong aphrodisiac, the contractor had explained, much to the astonishment of your team. During the briefing, you’d managed to keep a straight face, but not all of your teammates were as courteous.

“So let me get this straight—you want us to risk our lives for…Viagra?” Horangi had questioned, exasperated. Your lips pursed at his crudeness, but it was exactly what you were thinking too.

The scientist’s face flushed. “N-no, this is much different,” he snapped. As one of the architects of the bioweapon, he was clearly offended. “It is much, much stronger. Exposure to just one dose will cause severe arousal: heart palpitations, excessive sweating, overheating. Imagine…” He seemed to be struggling to find the words. “Imagine a brain overload, yes? Rational thinking…disappears. Victims may lose all motor control. Too long without treatment can result in heart failure, aneurysms, seizures, stroke, and sometimes death.”

“So what is the treatment?” you interrupted, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Sex,” the scientist answered, shifting uncomfortably on his heels. “It was designed to be, ah… difficult.”

Your jaw clenched, and your eyes darted to König. He was staring down the scientist, narrowed eyes betraying no emotion. While everyone else struggled to keep their bafflement hidden, his sniper hood obscured any hope of reading him. Just my fucking luck, you thought when you were partnered with him.

It wasn’t that you disliked König; it was just that you found it so much more difficult to talk to him. With the rest of your teammates, you were fine. A natural people reader, you were comfortable with the rest of them, relying on body language and the details they let slip to learn more about them. In fact, you considered yourself to be pretty close with them—unsurprising, given that in your line of work, your life rested in their hands and vice versa. But König was… different. You didn’t distrust him, per say, but outside of the battlefield, he was quiet. Reclusive. No matter how many times you’d tried to get him to open up, he barely interacted with you, despite talking to the others. You’d chalked it down to being the newest on the team at first, but now that you’d served over a year and a half together, you were frustrated. Shouldn’t that be well enough time to open up at least a little bit?

You knew your thinking was illogical. Your job was to hunt targets and invade bases, not deep dive into your coworker’s soul, but you couldn’t help the way it took over your mind. Your need to understand him had become a bit of an obsession. You constantly found yourself looking at him, trying to discern any emotion his eyes betrayed. You listened intently for any of his input in person or on comms, no matter how menial it was. You studied his body language, taken note of any habits or gestures. You’d even memorized the way he reloaded his guns.

It was…embarrassing, to say the least. But could you blame yourself? He was so tall and strong and imposing that even just standing next to him made you, a normally very confident and intimidating woman, feel small. Such was the reason that you pushed yourself extra harder whenever you were paired up with him, making sure he knew you were valuable, a force to be reckoned with. Your excellent performance had made you two quite the duo, often clearing out legions of enemies in mere minutes. And you had to admit, seeing him absolutely obliterate enemy lines made you feel some type of way…

But not like that, of course. You were just…curious. When he finally opened up to you (and not if, but when), your obsession would stop, and everything would be fine. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Today, however, there were a lot less enemies than you’d expected. Sure, there were quite a few soldiers stationed around the warehouse (which your team had incapacitated quickly), but inside, save for some scientists and the occasional guard, it was eerily empty and quiet.

“It’s fucking cold,” Horangi’s voice rang out from your radio. You sighed and brought the device to your lips.

“It’s fucking Russia,” you stated. “What did you think it’d be? Beachy?”

König’s quiet chuckle sounded from in front of you, and you couldn’t help the pride that swarmed in your heart. Heat burst in your cheeks, but you tried to brush it off.

“Fuck off,” Horangi replied. “East side clear.”

“West unknown,” you said. “Standby.” You tucked the radio back into your pocket, following your teammate.

You both peeked around the corner to the last room. It was filled to the brim with lab equipment—beakers, bunsen burners, flasks, microscopes—all sitting atop of large resin tables. Bright, fluorescent lights bounced off the sterile grey walls and ceiling, creating a dull glare that was almost depressing. Neat racks of tightly sealed vials and test tubes peeked through glass cabinets on the walls, parallel to the large sinks below. Across the room was a row of unfamiliar-looking equipment, and next to that, an enormous whiteboard boasting messily scrawled notes, diagrams, and equations. A bag of what looked like takeout sat on a nearby desk next to a crumpled napkin and a perspiring styrofoam cup. It was almost exactly what you’d imagined a stereotypical laboratory to look like, albeit a bit messier and more lived in. A singular man stood working at one of the tables, frantically scribbling on a notepad with his back facing toward you. König motioned for you to stay put as he crept forward. You complied.

Then the man dropped his pen.

“Xyй,” he cursed and turned around to pick it up. Of course, when he turned around, he saw König’s gigantic form pointing a gun at him, and he screamed. You fired your suppressed pistol, but not before the scientist hurled a glass vial at König. It shattered against his tactical vest as the dead scientist crumpled to the ground, releasing a burst of lavender-colored smoke that curled into the air and quickly dissipated.

König ripped off his tactical vest, coughing violently, but it was too late—the substance had already entered his lungs, likely reaching his bloodstream by now. He stared at you, blue eyes wide with—for the first time you’d ever seen—fear. 

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, and he staggered to the wall, crashing down to the floor.

“König?” You stared at him, stricken. His eyes were closed, and he was stock still—stiller than you’d ever seen him—and for a long, hard moment, you thought he might be dead. 

Then his eyes snapped open. His pupils were dilated and blown, a sea of black barely tinged by blue irises. He stared at you, unmoving, before letting out a groan and bringing his hand over his face.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered. You grabbed your radio. “M-man down!” you stammered into it. “König’s been exposed. West side clear. Requesting med evac in thirty minutes. Going dark.” You turned it off, not bothering to listen to any input. The rest of your team knew what this meant. As did you.

In the time you’d been on the radio, König had torn off all of his other gear, leaving himself in just his shirt, pants, and boots. He was panting, his chest heaving with each breath, ungloved hand still hiding his masked face as he cursed in German.

You crossed the room in seconds and kneeled at his side. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, König, just breathe—”

“No,” he breathed. His voice was deeper, raspier than normal, and the unbridled heat in it sent a shiver down your spine. His hands were clenched into fists, body tensed as he fought the invisible infection. “Go. Now.”

“You know I can’t leave—”

His hand fell to his side, letting his eyes meeting yours for a split second. “Please,” he groaned, starting to tremble as you drew closer. “I—I can’t—”

His gaze strayed lower, and you followed it to the growing bulge in his pants. You gulped, unmoving, and he grabbed your arm. The force of it was enough to make you still.

“Go,” he insisted, his accent even thicker than usual. “I’m not—I cannot control myself.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here!” you argued, swatting his hand away. “You’re my teammate. You could die.”

“I will hurt you,” he retorted. All the muscles in his body were tensed, clearly on overdrive. Even his eyes were watering. “Please, maus. I am not gentle.”

Something inside about his statement made your thighs clench together, but you tried to ignore it. Tentatively, you brought your hand to his chin, pulling his face towards you. His skin was feverish, and your heart twisted in sympathy. “Let me help you,” you pleaded, and he inhaled sharply.

“It feels like I’m burning,” he hissed, and you frowned. His black compression shirt was nearly soaked with sweat, and you grabbed the fabric, pulling it up. He pawed at your arm weakly, but you shushed him.

“You’re overheating. Take it off,” you ordered, and finally, he let you pull it over his head, sagging back against the wall as you threw it to the side.

You’d seen him without a shirt before—it was hard not to with this kind of job, what with donning injuries all the time—but this was different. His head was thrown back as he panted, toned chest heaving with each breath, and you could see all of the muscles in his chiseled abdomen clenched, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. It was… erotic. Just looking at him made you feel dirty. You felt the thrum of something other than worry in your abdomen, and you swallowed.

“Leave me,” König growled, but it sounded more desperate than commanding. You shook your head at him.

“Not letting you die, König.” You began to rip off your gear, tugging off your tactical vest and discarding your weapons. 

König grabbed your wrist. “What are you…?”

“Wanna help you, okay?” you said softly, trying to catch his eyes as they darted over your face. “Are you gonna let me?”

He took in a deep breath, his other hand in a death grip on his thigh. “I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated, but it was starting to lose its original harshness. He was fading, and fast.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. You placed your hand on his bare chest, feeling the way his heartbeat stuttered and stammered under your touch. He cursed in response, the hand on your wrist twitching, clearly fighting the urge to touch you. In a split-second decision, you swung your right leg over his lap and straddled him, careful not to grind against him, waiting for an answer first. He let out a choked noise and grabbed you by the hips, his tight grip making you gasp. “Yes or no?” you breathed.

“Ahhh, maus.” The low groan he let out was nearly animalistic. “Yes,” he begged, and that was all you needed to hear.

You started grinding on his lap gently, trying to restrain yourself from going further. You wanted to be mindful of his sensitivity, but König simply huffed in annoyance and used his tight grip on your hips to tug you all the way down into his lap—allowing you to feel everything. The imprint of his hard, throbbing cock made you dizzy; you couldn’t resist pressing against it, moaning softly at the delicious friction it granted your clit.

“Scheiße,” König murmured, his thighs twitching underneath you. You felt bad, knowing he was probably dying for some real contact, so you decided to give it to him.

Your heart raced as you reached for his waistband, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants to his knees. His cock was straining against his briefs, a wet patch forming from precum, and you quickly removed those as well, watching his hardened cock spring up and then fall slightly, its weight making it unable to reach his stomach. Your mouth went dry. Fuck, he was huge. You supposed it made sense: as an exceptionally large man, it was logical to have a proportionally large cock, but the sight of it still shocked you.

“Maus,” he whispered, breaking you out of your trance. He stared at you apprehensively, and you wrapped your much smaller hands around his cock, hearing him suck in a breath. You took a moment to marvel at the sheer size of him—your normally average-sized fingers looked miniature in contrast, unable to even fully wrap around his length. You felt your own arousal seep into your underwear, and you leaned down to kiss his tip.

The moan he let out turned you on even more than before, and you wasted no time teasing him, spitting into your hand and pumping his cock a few times before bringing the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the slit before pushing him further down your throat. His cock was so large that you had to fight not to scrape your teeth against it, flattening your tongue under the base of it.

His hand fisted into your hair, pulling slightly every time you moved your lips up and down his shaft, twisting your hand in tandem. Your other hand gripped onto one of his thick thighs, feeling his leg twitch as he struggled not to buck his hips up into your mouth. Each strained noise and curse you coaxed from him only encouraged you more, your own whimpers muffled against his cock as you did your best to fit him down your throat.

After only a few minutes, you felt him twitching in your hand and sped up your pace, determined to pleasure him as much as possible. Curses fell from his lips as he finished, hot spurts of his release shooting down your throat. You swallowed it quickly, continuing to pump your hand up and down his still rock-hard shaft.

König, however, pulled you off quickly, eyes wide and dark with an almost fearful desperation as he stared at you. “The poison. It’s still…”

You looked back down to see his cock still twitching in your hand. “It’s okay,” you said, starting to lean back down, “I’ll just—”

“No!” He pulled you back up by the neck. You blinked at him in shock, and he stared back, pupils blown wide like black moons. There was a fiery hunger in his eyes as he looked at you, one you’d never seen before. The sheer want in his gaze sent a cold shiver down your spine. No one had ever looked at you like this before—like you were prey.

“König?” you asked nervously.

Instead of answering, he began to unbuckle your belt, and you gasped as his hand reached under your waistband to cup your clothed core, index finger tracing lightly over your clit. You fought back a mewl, chest seizing as you shut your eyes from the pleasure.

“So wet,” he marveled. He pushed your underwear to the side, smearing your arousal over your soaked folds as you whimpered, bucking your hips into his hand. “Just from sucking my cock?”

His switch in demeanor startled you, and you moaned as one of his large fingers pressed into your weeping hole, curling inside you with precision. His hands were so much bigger than yours; the stretch was making your knees weak. He quickly found your G-spot, taking care to press against it as you arched into him. “Oh, oh, fuck, König,” you whimpered, coaxing a dark chuckle from him that made you clench around him.

Your thighs clenched around his hand, but he pried them apart with ease, forcing you to straddle him and rendering you helpless to his ministrations as he slowly dragged another finger in and out of you. With each achingly slow push into your dripping hole, he made sure to curl them just right, long fingers able to reach that sensitive spongy spot inside you effortlessly. His palm laid flat against your clit as he stroked your walls, letting you sloppily grind into his hand as he murmured praise into your ear.

“Does that feel good, liebling?” he asked, drinking in each of your breathy, pleasured noises with satisfaction. “You like making a mess on my fingers, mm?”

You simply whimpered, too embarrassed of your flustered state to form a real response. He seemed to pick up the hint, giving you a cocky smirk through his mask. “Ohh, it’s okay, maus,” he cooed, but his soft words were laced with a smug condescension that made your cheeks burn. “You look so pretty like this, all dumb on my fingers. I wish I could’ve seen it earlier.”

You whined again, desperately grinding down on his palm for more friction. His slow pace was torturous, giving you just enough to feel pleasure but not enough to build it. It was mean. It was twisted. It was agonizing. You were eating it up.

“Please,” you tried, teary eyes boring into his. “Can you—can you please—”

“Can I what, maus?” He cocked his head, darkened eyes twinkling with mirth. “Tell me, or I can’t help you.”

You know what I want, you wanted to shout at him, but you knew that wouldn’t work. “Please,” you begged, “I need more."

“What more do you need, maus?” he asked again. “You have a mouth. Use it.”

“Need you to—” You whimpered pitifully, dropping your head into his shoulder. “Please, need you to go—go harder.” You nearly sobbed out the words, desperation winning out over your embarrassment. You were mortified at your teary, shaking voice, but he seemed to revel in it, squeezing your thigh in appreciation.

“Oh, is that what you wanted?” he teased, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You could have just said so.”

He set a steady pace with his fingers, bullying them inside of you hard enough to make you squirm against him. With each thrust, he curled them just right, sending your eyes rolling back and mouth falling open in heavy pants as you mewled into his shoulder. You were grateful to be spared of his intense gaze; you didn’t think you could look at him in the state you were in. It was mortifying just hearing the sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your gushing cunt.

“Oh, maus,” he cooed into your ear as you trembled, keening at the stretch of his fingers. “You’re just so beautiful like this, you know. So fucking desperate and pathetic. I wish I could see you like this all the time.”

Would I like him to finger me like this all the time? Hell yes, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him, only able to whine and nod vigorously into his shoulder, lost in the feeling of his fingers inside you. You could feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into his palm and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gave your throbbing clit. You were so wet that you were starting to wonder if you’d been infected, too; each time he hit your g-spot just right, you felt more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs. It was driving you insane.

“K-König!” You managed a cry of his name right before you came, clenching around his fingers as you bucked your hips into his hand. Breathy whines fell from your lips, your thighs shaking and seizing as you squirmed in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. The feeling was so intense it was almost painful; you hadn’t had an orgasm in so long, and the effect was palpable. His arms held you tight, keeping you grounded while you shuddered in his grasp, his big fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

When you finally came down from your high, you couldn’t look at him, mortified at your messy state. His fingers were still knuckle-deep in your arousal, and you could feel more of your slick dripping down your thighs, wet and uncomfortable. You kept your head buried in his chest shyly while your happy cunt stayed spasming in his hand.

“Okay, schatz?” he asked softly, using his free hand to tilt your head towards him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You stared up at him, mouth open. There were practically hearts in your eyes; your adoration was clear to him, and he laughed at your expression, cradling your cheek with his hand. “Aww, schatz.” He clicked his tongue, a smile audible in his voice. “You’re so sweet.”

Your cheeks burned red at the words, and you blinked rapidly, unable to look away. His piercing blue eyes stayed trained on yours, but there was a warmth in them that soothed you. He petted your cheek, lifting his hood to press a kiss to your forehead.

Your mind felt fuzzy. All you could think about was your need to be filled by him, and you pawed at his hard cock, wrapping your fingers around the base of it. A hiss of pleasure escaped him, and you kept your eyes on his, wide and pleading. “Please fuck me,” you whispered, still trembling in his grasp.

König’s eyes darkened, and he tugged off the rest of your bottoms quickly. His strong hands lifted you to hover you over his cock, and you shuddered with anticipation, head spinning. He rubbed the tip through your dripping folds, coaxing out a gasp as it brushed over your swollen clit. You tried to push him inside, squirming, but his tight grip on the bottoms of your thighs kept you in place, and you whined his name, hoping he would take pity on you.

“Bitte, König,” you begged, and he practically growled at the words, mercifully allowing you to sink onto the tip of his cock and drawing out a desperate mewl. Even with how wet you were, he was so, so big that he was practically tearing you in half.

“K-König—”

“Hush, liebling,” he soothed, and you moaned as your core clenched around him, beacons of pleasure ripping through you from just the feel of him. He waited for you to relax and then pushed in farther as you gasped at his length.

“Mmph! König—” You keened as he continued to push himself into you, waiting each time to make sure you were okay. You could feel his hard cock twitch with each thrust, and you knew it must be difficult for him not to go straight into fucking you, that he was holding himself back to be more gentle. The thought only made you moan louder.

Tears slipped down your cheeks when he finally bottomed out, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “I’m sorry, maus,” he groaned, no doubt feeling the way you clenched around him. “You’re just—so tight—”

You wanted to tell him to it was okay, but from your already fucked out mind, all that came out was a dumb whimper of his name. In response, he pulled up his sniper hood to kiss your forehead, to which you whined and chased his lips with your mouth. This made him chuckle, and he guided your lips to his, coaxing out a soft moan as his tongue met yours. He tasted wonderful, and you mewled into his mouth, feeling even more worked up from the way he kissed you: hot and desperate and sweet, like the world was ending and you were the last ones in it.

“Mein maus,” he growled, suddenly thrusting up into you and making your eyes roll back. His hips snapped against yours, setting a pace that sent your thoughts reeling. “Taking me so well, doing so good for me, hm? Du bist mein schatz, ja?”

“Yes, fuck—yes,” you babbled, barely able to understand what he was saying. His unusually rough tone was fogging up your dumbed-out mind, the contrast between his sweet words and punishing pace reducing you to nothing but a crying, creaming mess. You’d never been this wet for someone before. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m yours, please—”

“Good girl,” he moaned, pushing you up and down his cock with dizzying strength. Your legs tightened around his waist as he thrust up into you, high-pitched and pitiful noises falling from your lips at a shameful volume. He was using you like a toy, you thought, and the notion of it made your pleasured cries even louder.

“Mmm, yeah? Mmm?” He mimicked your breathy moans, and you could hear the grin in his voice. Normally, you’d be mortified, likely retorting with some witty insult, but now? Now with the way he was fucking you, all you could do was whine in pitiful response.

“So needy for me,” he groaned, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. The sheer force of him made your eyes roll back, and you felt that tight coil in your belly close to snapping.

“Fuck, König—” You panted heavily, your legs starting to give out. “K-König, oh my God, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he cooed, pulling you closer to his chest so your clit could find purchase on his toned abs. “Doing so good for me, schatz. Such a good girl, getting off on me like this. Like the way I feel, mm?”

His sweet praise became your tipping point, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. You cried his name, mouth falling open in shock as your legs kicked out, your cunt weeping and convulsing around him as you keened. You gasped for air as your orgasm rocked through you, the pleasure suddenly becoming all too much as he continued to drill himself into your gushing cunt.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed from the overstimulation, but he didn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you. “Wonder how many orgasms I can get from you,” he murmured. You could hear the smile in his voice as he panted. “How many more, mein schatz?”

“I—I don’t know!” you cried as his pelvis dragged against your clit, sending shocks of electricity through you. “I don’t—I can’t—”

He groaned as you trembled in his hold, pretty blue eyes boring into yours. “You can do it for me,” he replied. “I know you can. Isn’t that right, liebling?”

“Ahh—König—” The juxtaposition of his soft kisses and brutal pace was making your head spin. Too overwhelmed to answer, you just clutched onto his shoulders tighter, crying out every time his skin brushed against your puffy, overstimulated clit. It was painful. It was overwhelming. It felt so fucking good.

“Hush, mein schatz,” he coaxed, holding you closer as you clenched around his cock, babbling incoherently as he fucked up into you. “You’re doing so good, I promise.”

The answer was two. Two more earth-shattering orgasms before he finally went soft, coming inside of you twice before either (1), his dick just gave out, or (2), the poison wore off. Either way, by the end of it, you were exhausted and fucked out, still recovering from your cock-drunk state as he cleaned you up.

“I’m sorry, maus,” he apologized, sounding genuinely remorseful as he gently wiped your soaked thighs with a clean cloth he had found in the room. “I’m so sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what came over me.”

“Drugs,” you supplied, staring at the ceiling in exhaustion. “Really bad drugs.”

“Yes, drugs,” he agreed, carefully mopping your folds as you sighed. “But still—I am sorry. I was…overzealous. I hope I did not hurt you too bad.”

“I’ll be a little sore,” you admitted, glancing at the bruises his fingers had left on your waist and hips. “But I’ll be fine, trust me.”

He sighed, somehow managing to look resigned even with the sniper hood. “I should not have been so hard on you. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly?” you murmured, blinking at him sleepily. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He froze for a moment. “What?” 

“Not that I’ve had a lot of sex,” you said quickly. “But still, that was the best I’ve ever had. Probably will ever have, now that I think about it. You must be very experienced. Oh God, I should not have said that out loud. I am—I am so sorry.”

Even with his sniper hood on, you could tell he was blushing. “Oh, um—it’s okay, maus.” You could hear the shyness in his voice. “I do not consider that to be my best performance, but I will take it as a compliment.”

“Your best performance?” You stared at him, mind running through everything that had just happened. You’d had sex before, but that—that was a whole ass experience. You’d never even dreamed about anything that good. “Christ, what’s your best performance, then?”

“Well,” he replied, sliding your soaked underwear back up your legs for you, “I would have taken you out on a date first, at the very least. That would be the proper way to court you.”

“Court me?” you repeated, sitting up straight. “I didn’t know you were so well-mannered, König.”

He looked away from you, shifting awkwardly from his spot on the floor. “I try to be courteous before sticking my dick in people.”

It took you a moment to realize he was joking, and you laughed—actually really laughed out loud. His awkward humor was charming you, and you felt warmth swell in your chest as you listened to him speak. You grinned at him, his eyes crinkling in a smile back.

König still smiled, but a hint of sadness pervaded his gaze. “Ah, schatz.” He hesitated. “I would have liked to make love to you,” he sighed, “but I did not imagine these would be the circumstances. I was hoping to take you on a date first, get to know you better.”

“You wanted to what?” Your eyes widened, and you blinked in confusion. “But…I thought you didn’t like me.”

König practically jolted in place. It was like you’d electrocuted him. He stared at you. “Why would you ever think that?”

“You talk to everyone but me,” you said softly. “I thought you didn’t trust me. Thought you hated me.”

“Hated—?” He shook his head vigorously. “No, I wanted to speak to you. You just…made me nervous. The others do not.”

“I made you nervous?” The words fell from your lips with shock, your eyebrows furrowing. “How would I—how did I ever make you nervous? You’re like three times the size of me!”

König shrugged, sheepish. “You’re very pretty. And you seemed…kind, and well-connected with the others. I have trouble finding that connection. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you and fuck it up.”

“So you said nothing at all.” You were quiet for a moment, turning over the information in your mind. “Wow. I was way off.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “but it is okay. I’m sorry for making you think I disliked you, schatz.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. You ran a hand through your hair, beyond shocked at everything happening. You couldn’t believe you’d fucked your colleague, the one you’d had a crush on for who knows long, and also discovered that he didn’t, in fact, hate you. “At least I know now.”

“Next time, I will be better,” König vowed, helping you tug on your pants. “More gentle. I will do things right, I promise.”

“Next time?” You hesitated, biting your lip. “There will be a next time?”

“Of course there will,” he answered, adjusting his tactical gloves. “Did you not hear what I said earlier?”

“Um…which one?” He’d said a lot of things earlier.

He helped you to your feet, towering over you as he cupped his large hand under your jaw. Your heart stopped in your chest as you looked up into his eyes, his large frame dwarfing yours beyond comparison. “Du bist mein schatz, ja?” he repeated, gloved thumb tracing over your bottom lip. His very soul seemed to ooze confidence. “That’s what I said, no?’

With the way he was making you feel right now, you didn’t think it was even possible to say the word no. “Y-yes,” you stammered, adoration clear in your eyes as you gazed up at him.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “So there will be a next time. Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”

“N-no, no, no, I definitely want!” you said quickly. You stumbled over your words in your eagerness, and your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I would like that a lot.”

“Good,” he said, patting the top of your head. Normally, you’d be furious at such an action, but considering his height, it seemed more practical than condescending. “Now come, schatz,” he said, adjusting his vest. “Time to deny everything to the rest of the team.”

Oh, fuck. You sighed. “Yeah…I forgot about that.”

[voiths]

☾ CoD Guys and their kinks ☽

𑁍 Warnings: sexual content, choking, dubious consent (only slightly) crying 𑁍

𑁍 Characters featured: Ghost, König, Captain Price 𑁍

❥ Ghost

Orgasm Control: Loves overstimulating you to the point where you're begging him to stop while you're crying and whimpering. Pushing your hips down everytime you try to squirm away. If he feels even meaner he will edge you for hours on end. Hearing you beg only fuels him more and pushes him to keep on edging you. Getting you so close to release only to take it away from you making you whine in frustration.

Deep Throating: At first you struggled a lot with it but after some training of him slowly filling your mouth wider and wider you can take him fully. Loves feeling your throat swallow around him. Of course he always makes sure to give you chances to tap out but he just loves feeling you choke around his massive length. Watching the tears slowly build up in the corner of your eyes while you look up at him with those pretty eyes.

❥ König

Primal play: One of his favourite fantasies is making you wear a collar with a bell and then let you run out into the woods. Feeling the thrill of hunting for you and then when he finds you pounding into you roughly. Groans when he hears the bell jingle everytime he slams into you. Pulling you back by your hair and just taking you.

Size Kink: The first time you sat in his lap the actual size difference between you two dawned on him. How small you are in his lap and how he can just tower over you. He loves how he can just pick you up with his massive strength and fuck you while standing. Not even letting you touch the ground while feeling your tiny body trembling in his arms. Will also hold both of your wrists above your head with only one hand if you struggle too much.

❥ Captain Price

Impact play: Having you bent over his lap while he's sitting on the bed is one of his favourites scenes. Hearing you whimper out his title everytime he spanks you. If you've been annoying him a lot he will make you count them and if you mess up or dont thank him he will start over without mercy. Will rub the beautiful red marks on your ass and thighs afterwards.

Collaring: At first he wasnt very interested but when he saw you wear one for one of your outfits he was not able to take his eyes off of it the entire day. The next day he immediately orders one online with a leash. Loves having you sit on your knees next to him or infront of him. It gives him easy acces to pull you towards him by your collar or your leash.

Masterlist

[diejager]

Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention. 

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes. 

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument. 

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body. 

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail. 

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him. 

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight. 

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours. 

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures. 

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you. 

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home. 

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him. 

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him. 

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much. 

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty. 

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind. 

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition. 

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to. 

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition. 

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you. 

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. 

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live. 

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much. 

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures. 

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room. 

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making. 

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal. 

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue. 

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave. 

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him. 

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying. 

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh. 

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back. 

“You’re happy, ja?”

Next

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan 

[uhohdad]

könig and spacey!reader

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

☆ You seemed to be in your own little world most of the time. Not spatially aware, ditzy, and a bit forgetful.

☆ König finds it endearing, such a sweet little thing you were, head in the clouds and always daydreaming. Sharing your silly thoughts and asking his opinion on things that hardly mattered. He loves the way your brain works.

☆ It can make things a bit difficult for him.

☆ He seems to find himself wrangling you, nagging you, guiding you along in every day life.

☆ “Have you eaten?”

☆ “Did you take your medicine today?”

☆ “Make sure you lock the door when you come home, little one.”

☆ He often finds himself picking up forgotten half-done tasks, because you got distracted during the process by another task.

☆ He’s long since taken over watering the plants after watching them nearly wilt at your hand.

☆ Whenever he’s in public with you, it’s not an uncommon occurrence for him to snatch the back of your collar with two of his fingers to keep you from running into someone, making a wrong turn, or putting yourself in danger. He’s basically scruffing you. You’ll just turn around, an oblivious smile on your face as you look up at him, eyes dreamily half-lidded.

☆ You’re too trusting. It makes König nervous at how you give everyone the benefit of the doubt, never hunting for ulterior motives. He often has to shoo you away mid-conversation to keep you from being conned, hit on, or preyed upon. Make him stand tall and put on his intimidating stare, towering behind you as your guard.

☆ “Let me handle this, little one.”

☆ (He likes taking care of you, keeping you safe, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.)

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

☆ gentle!könig ☆

[motomamita]

So...I would like to know if you could make a sequel to Viking!König,IT'S AMAZING AND I WOULD LOVE TO SEE MORE (if you want of course)

viking!könig × villager!female!reader

warnings: +18, smut, sex, breeding kink!

viking!könig

you went from being a simple villager girl to becoming the wife of one of the strongest vikings and mother of his children.

your twins had grown enough to be able to spend time without you around, again leaving you time alone to be with König. the other vikings played with your children, teaching them to fight and letting them win in each round. soon you had to make them their own fighting clothes and wooden swords.

"my wife, let the kids have fun on the beach."

you let your twins play in the sand, building sand castles and marrying fish with their custom-made tridents. they were on the beach where they used to return after long trips, there they had a small camp set up.

"i need time with my beautiful wife."

you knew what he meant, König couldn't spend much time without being inside you. you went to your improvised room among the trees, surrounded by nature and away from the other vikings. König made a sign to his right hand, ordering him to take care of his children and not to disturb him.

when you were far away, König didn't wait any longer and brought you closer to him. he gave you a messy kiss, using his tongue and playing with yours while his large hands touched your entire body through your clothes. you clung to him, stroking his long hair and clinging closer to him.

with ease he grabbed you by the waist and put you in doggy style, making sure you fell onto the soft blankets on the floor. He lifted your skirt made of bear leather, hunted by him and made by you, and brought his mouth to your pussy. he lick and suck your intimacy as if there were no tomorrow, making your legs tremble with pleasure.

desperate, he took his thick cock out of his pants and placed it at your entrance, fucking you slowly. his hands gripped your hips, his balls slapping against your clit as you moaned in pleasure.

"come on, precious, give me another child.."

you moaned in pleasure, eager to fulfill your husband's wishes and give him a new child, this time a girl.

könig growled into your ear, increasing his thrusts as his hands went to your breasts hidden under your shirt. his cock made room inside you, hitting your most sensitive spot and blinding you with so much pleasure.

just when you least expect it, König ended up inside you.

as if the gods had heard his prayers, your belly gradually grew in the following weeks. and on the least expected day on your bed on the ship, you gave birth to his first daughter.

[notknickers]

the only rational thing to do is band together and hunt them down thorugh any means possible.

just, don't be selfish. remember: we're in this together. if you find one, don't keep him all to yourself.

we all share.

(and he doesn't get a say in it... >.>)

where do you think they keep all the tall, broad austrian men who lean submissive and enjoy wearing masks made from old t-shirts during sessions?

asking for a mate of mine. they don't even need to be war criminals. i my mate just cares about good hygene and manners. are they in the stocking area of the factory that makes them, before they release them on markets? do they keep them in cages? are they underground? in a city in the sky? in another dimension? how do i get there? is there any guarantee that i'll be able to bring one home for myself mate? anyone have any idea?

please...?