#still sinning
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woe to the deer who is courted by the wolf . . .
pairing // könig x f!reader
word count // 7.2k
tags // 18+ ONLY, afab reader, vampire!könig, predator/prey kink, mentions of blood and injury, minor elements of horror (very minor), slightly misunderstood lonely vampire könig, unprotected sex, stomach bulge, rough sex, creampie, biting, blood sucking, blood play
an // after battling with writers block for over a month, who would have thought it'd take a blood sucking giant to free me from the shackles of having no inspiration? anyway this is the most i've ever written in one day, which is only slightly concerning. bone apple teeth!
thank you to @erosology for beta reading this, and forever being my number one hype man ;-;
Pale moonlight peaks through a frame of eerily still clouds, reflecting off the polished black steel planted in the ground at your feet. You can hear the whispers of your friends behind you, a little too old to be snickering and giggling behind the palms of their hands, although youâre entirely too old to have taken their bet in the first place.Â
It started off as a simple reunion between old friends, a short trek into once familiar woods to the spot you used to set up base for the night, roasting marshmallows over a concerningly large campfire, sharing cliche horror stories whilst swaddled in blankets. This very night had gone about the same, until someone brought up the old manor. An imposing house that watches over the village that surrounds it, well kept and suspiciously pristine, withstanding the tests of time despite the fact that not a single soul has ever been seen to enter or leave the premises.Â
It had been a longstanding dare, an easy way to get someone to down their drink, âI dare you to jump the fence and knock on the doorâ. No one has ever been stupid enough to go through with it, a couple tried, but got as far as the black iron that surrounds the perimeter before they gave up. And yet, here you stand, too many years later, an individual who should be both older and wiser than to commit several crimes for the sake of a stupid bet and childish curiosity, staring at that very same railing.Â
You can hardly hear the whispered words of your friends from where they cower behind you, your eyes transfixed on the looming building that seemingly stares back at you from where you remain fixed at the bottom of the hill. Mahogany brick unblemished, barely touched by weather, towers three stories high, trimmed ivy crawling up the walls as though attempting to reach out to the moon that watches over it. Each window is blocked by scarlet wooden shutters, an old-fashioned touch for a house surrounded by new builds; looking at it now feels like taking several steps back in time.Â
Not a single spec of light leaks through any crack in the shutters, each room bathed in darkness, the same way it always has. Surely, you think to yourself, surely no one can possibly be in there. Your theory has always been that the house is long since abandoned, its previous owner having died, looked after by a previously employed caretaker who hated to watch a building they loved go into disrepair. And although that doesnât explain the suspicious lack of activity, itâs the only sane thought that you repeat to yourself as your fingers curl around sturdy black bars, and you begin to haul yourself over the iron fence.Â
A moment later, and the dull thud of your feet hitting neatly trimmed grass breaks tense silence, your eyes meeting with several widened pairs through steel bars. Itâs the furthest anyoneâs gotten, and even now, you feel like youâve gone far enough. Itâs certainly not too late to change your mind, to do the sensible thing and throw yourself back into safety, and just as youâre contemplating backing out of the bet, you feel the hairs on your nape stand on end, a chill down your spine so sharp it causes a physical flinch. When you turn around, youâre met with the very same house, not a shutter or brick out of place, yet something, somehow, feels different.Â
Itâs like a siren call, luring you from the safety of your friends that remain frozen on the other side, hardly breathing as though they darenât make a sound, apprehensive eyes focused on your shadowed form as you slowly make your way up the hill. Itâs more daunting up close, no longer a silhouette against a twilight sky, now you can see details the distance has never gifted you, the way the wood shutters that plaster the windows are carved with swirls and intricate patterns, how the ivy hides bloomed flowers amongst pointed leaves, speckles of pink and purple that ease the tension that coils your muscles, only bolstering timid curiosity. And now youâre standing within feet of the house, youâre left in awe by the sheer size of it. It never seemed particularly small, not even from the gate, but the front door alone has you gulping down nothing but frigid air. You take a few tentative steps, eyes raking over the magnificent details carved into thick black oak, the centrepiece that catches your gaze being the solid gold knocker that sits just above your head, halfway up the door.Â
Two hollow eyes stare back at you, a skull with two rams horns that curl from golden bone, and between its bared teeth lies a ring that rests against ebony wood. It stands out from every other detail of the house, a spine-tingling reminder of where you stand, echoes of the myths that surround this house whispered by your trembling conscience, and yet shaking fingers reach for the ring, curling around cooled metal before lifting it, preparing to knock.Â
But you never get the chance, because in true horror movie fashion, youâre met with the slow creak of old hinges as the very door you stand before begins to open, and in the void of black it reveals, you swear you see two pinpricks of red that greet you in the darkness. Your entire body goes stiff, still clinging on to the gold loop of the knocker as though itâll somehow ground you, yet it does nothing to chase away the overwhelming sense of impending doom that screams at you to turn, to run, to get as far away from this wretched place as your legs can take you.
You turn just in time to hear the worried calls of your friends before the door is yanked wide open, dragging you over the edge of the premises with it and sending you careening onto the floor, sliding against wood and scrambling up only to watch that very same door slam in your face.Â
Frozen. Every single part of you remains stock still as you try to adjust to the darkness. Not even the moonlight dares follow you inside, leaving you alone to dart your eyes in the pitch black, searching for some semblance of light you can latch onto. Yet the house offers you nothing, and you canât help but see red dots every time you dare close your eyes. In the moment of still youâve been given, your brain reels as it tries to think of a logical explanation for the door seemingly dragging you into the house with no human in sight to operate it, and in your panic, you canât help but pray that youâve fallen asleep by the campfire, and this is all an elaborate nightmare youâll be able to laugh about when you awake.
A creak from behind you sends you hurtling back into reality, a sure reminder that this is no nightmare, not one you can wake up from, at least. Your head whips to the side, terror freezing your muscles solid as you lock onto crimson orbs once again, so bright they can be seen even with the absence of light to reflect off them, your blood curdling in your veins as they remain fixed on you, unblinking. You scurry backwards, the sound of your back slamming against the solid wall behind you echoing through the dark, fingers curling against peeling wallpaper in a last-ditch attempt to find the door handle.Â
Your pathetic scrabbling is interrupted by the harsh sound of a match striking against rough material, your eyes drawn to the responding flame it produces, but moreso, the large fingers that dwarf the stick they clutch.Â
âWhat a curious thing you are.â
Each syllable rumbles through very walls, practically shakes the structure of the house, a low timber steeped with an accent you canât quite place, but certainly isnât local. You darenât breathe, let alone move, not even when the ground creaks and shakes with every purposeful, creeping step the stranger takes towards you. The flame grows as the match is brought to a wick, the flame whittling away the wood until all that remains is twisted charcoal, before transferring to the candle, the dying fire roaring back to life, casting a flickering golden glow onto the one holding it.Â
Youâre met once again with red, but now you can see bleached tear tracks running from shoddy holes cut into black cloth, a mask fit for the monster that wears it, and as they stalk ever closer, you belatedly wonder how theyâre going to navigate the stairs that must separate the two of you, certain that even someone familiar with a house must need more light in order to not fall. But they never begin their descent, and itâs only when the flame lies mere feet from you, yet so far out of your reach, you realise there are no steps. Youâre face to face with a giant.Â
Adrenaline douses you like a torrent of water, your widened eyes alert and stricken with obvious fear, yet you didnât expect the gentle touch that encircles your wrist, lungs sucking in a stuttered breath as you stare into the hollow red of its eyes. Large fingers draw your arm upwards, moving your frozen limb with ease, until itâs stretched far above your head, your fingers bumping against the smooth wax of the candle the giant passes off to you. Your brain scrambles for words, screams against the shackles of your fear-addled mind, waiting to release a slew of incoherent pleas for your freedom, yet your lips remain firmly sealed.
You feel a weight in your trouser pocket, eyes darting down to see his fingers pushing a box of matches into the gap of the material, only for your gaze to snap back to him as he hunches down, the material of his mask flowing down as his torso towers over you. Youâre left caged against the wall, nowhere to run as his face levels next to your ear. Itâs silent for a few horrific seconds, until that same spine-chilling voice purrs one single word.Â
âRun.âÂ
Itâs as though all your body needed was the instruction, responding immediately as you tear away from him, feet slapping against hardwood flooring as you careen towards what vaguely resembles an entrance way. The flame flickers dangerously, threatening to leave you in the dark once again, your fingers curling around the candle, whispering prayers that it doesnât snuff out, that it doesn't leave you alone with whatever stalks you in the pitch black.Â
You donât stop running until you reach a hallway, sprinting down the claustrophobic corridor until you finally reach an open door, rushing inside and pushing hefty wood until it clicks in place, sealing you within, safe for now. You hold up the candle to illuminate more of the room, watching as the soft glow bounces off a glinting gold frame and painstaking strokes of oil paint. An obscenely large portrait hangs on the wall in front of you, the image of a handsome man draped in fine purple robes, shoulder length brown hair pushed back with a crown of golden leaves. He sits in a chair, grand and crimson, lined with bronze, legs spread over the expensive velvet, one large hand curled over his thigh, the other propping his head up, his elbow resting against the arm of the chair in a way that can only be described as unbothered, and unamused. But the thing that has you utterly transfixed are the two red irises that stare right back at you, playful and taunting, and hauntingly familiar.Â
Surely this isnât the man under the hood, the one who dragged you into his house and watched you scramble out of his grip the second he told you to flee. Because why would a man so handsome hide his face? Why would someone who looks so young own a house that has stood at the centre of your small village for far longer than youâve been alive? Nothing seems to make sense, not a single aspect of the past 10 minutes feels real, and you can only hope your friends saw what happened and ran to get help, because youâre not sure thereâs a way for you to conquer this man alone. Itâs as youâre floundering for answers that you hear a noise from outside the room, instincts taking over as you quickly hide under a small dining table and blow out the candle, praying you havenât given yourself away.Â
Youâre not entirely stupid, you know the meaning of red eyes, and although you could attempt to soothe your psyche with whispered lies about contact lenses and make believe, you know better. The thing that chases you is no man, and certainly isnât human, at least not anymore. And as terrified as you are, there isnât a chance in hell youâre about to let yourself become this monsterâs dinner.Â
You sit in the darkness, clutching the smouldering candle to your chest, and wait. Ears alert as you listen for the slightest sound that might give away your hunter, a breath, a sigh, a scratch, you do little more than hope that your hiding spot remains occupied by you, and you alone.Â
After a tense few minutes, picking up on no other sounds than the thrumming of your own heart, your fingers slowly make their way to your pocket, gingerly plucking the box out and pushing the case off. Despite the lack of light, and the trembling that consumes your body, you manage to fish out a match, and strike it, holding the newly lit flame to the wick of the candle.Â
Bleached tears. Red eyes. Large fingers. Looming body.
âBoo.âÂ
The scream rips from your throat before your brain can catch up, the candle abandoned as itâs flung towards him in a last ditch attempt to throw him off, knees and hands protesting as theyâre dragged along grooved wood, leaving grazes in their wake. The momentary pain isnât enough to stop you, however, lungs heaving as you tear out of the room, clumsily bumping into walls and ornaments, impeded by the dark, motivated by sheer determination to live.Â
Your decision to toss away the candle comes to bite you firmly in the ass the second you find yourself tumbling down a set of stairs, and in a move of sheer instinct your hands attempt to slow your fall, only for the skin of your palm to get caught on a loose nail, slicing the flesh and leaving you wailing as your body finally slows to a stop against the cold stone floor you now find yourself lying on. Every bone in your body hurts, aches, but is overshadowed by the sharp sear of white hot pain as you cradle your torn skin to your chest, warm rivulets of blood oozing down your wrist, tracking rivers of red down your forearm until you hear the steady drip, drip, drip of your blood hitting stone.
A light appears above you, a halo of pastel yellow emanating around black cloth, and within a second, the fight leaves you, slumping further into the floor as you accept your death, hoping none of your friends were stupid enough to follow you only to meet the same pitiful fate.Â
âPlease,â You mumble, voice finally found, entirely too late, âJust make it quick.â You hear little other than a hushed chuckle in response, a cat toying with its food.Â
âI imagine it looks worse than it is, kleine maus.âÂ
You pause at that, curiosity ebbing through once more. You may not have paid enough attention to languages at school, but even in your state, you know enough to recognise those words.
âYouâre German?â You mumble, fear forgotten in your shock-ridden state. The man shakes his head as he crouches next to you, extending his free hand towards the injured one you have secured to your torso, tittering again as you flinch. But you have little other choice than to let him pry your hand away, watching with wary eyes as he examines your sliced skin. He holds the candle closer to the wound, a soft tut passing his lips before he holds the candle towards you, urging you to take it with a gentle nod.Â
âAustrian. But close.â
It all feels strange, foreign, as though youâre being lulled into a false sense of security just so he can tell you to run once again, laughing maniacally as he watches you bleed over his floor. The fear returns once you have the candle securely in your grip, eyes locked on the way his fingers curl around the material that hides his face, and begin to remove it. Inches of once cloaked skin is revealed, a defined chin melts away to pursed lips, a smattering of dark facial hair that frames his mouth and curls up his jaw, the material pulled further only to reveal a hooked nose, and two narrowed eyes that reflect the candlelight in a way not dissimilar to precious gems, rich and vibrant. Maybe itâs the shock, or limited blood loss, but you canât help but marvel at just how pretty he is.
Of course, it doesnât last much longer, not when survival instincts kick in, the realisation that your bloodied hand is now near the mouth of a creature that lives entirely off the thing that keeps you alive. But the grip on your wrist is ironclad, strong yet not uncomfortably so, a strange juxtaposition between monster and man as he cocks his head at your wound. With a nod, seemingly more to himself than you, you can do little more than cry out as youâre hauled over his shoulder, his arm secured tightly around your waist, the hood forgotten in a small puddle of your blood on the stone flags.Â
Itâs mere minutes later that he places you down on soft sheets, your body sinking into a plush mattress, left to watch him as he ambles around the egregiously large room, muttering foreign words under his breath as he roots through an ornate chest of draws. You must be in a fever dream, unsure how you went from running for your life, to being patched up by the very thing you were certain would kill you. And yet, here you are, watching as he almost awkwardly sidles to your seated figure, and kneels in front of you, once predatory eyes unable to hold your gaze as he sets out various medical items by your feet.Â
âYour hand, may I see it?â
You present your palm to him, watching as his eyebrows knit together, giant hands placing tentative touches against your skin as though heâs concerned about hurting you, the thought of which does nothing to aid your spiralling confusion. But you say nothing, you simply watch as he takes a damp cloth and begins cleaning your cut, fixated on the way his eyes snap to you with every pained hiss and suppressed whine, picking up on the way he ensures each subsequent touch is a tad gentler than the last. Itâs not too much longer until heâs wrapping your hand with bandages, making sure the gauze is tight enough to keep your blood in, but not enough to cut off circulation, the type of gentle care you never would have suspected from the giant at your feet. Your curiosity has increased tenfold, not a trace of fear left to lick at your nerves and render you speechless, replaced only by the overwhelming need to know more, to learn everything.Â
âWhatâs your name?âÂ
Itâs his turn to freeze, ruby irises briefly flitting to yours, rounded with surprise, before they snap back down, making himself busy as he gathers up a scattered array of bloodied cloth.Â
âI⊠I have had many. The one most people knew me by was König.â Itâs strange, the croon of his voice sounds almost nothing like the one whispered to you in the dark, from low and horrifying, to gentle, almost timid. Youâre nothing short of fascinated, leaning forward as you scan over the contours of his face.Â
âWhyâd you drag me into your house and tell me to run?âÂ
âWhy were you trying to knock on my door?â
TouchĂ©.Â
Heat licks at the skin of your cheeks at his brazen reminder of your attempted trespassing, your uninjured hand coming to rub at your neck in lieu of a response. After a moment of silence, he sighs, deflating into the plush carpet below.Â
âIt has been a while since I last had any visitors. Your arrival was⊠Unexpected. You caught me off guard,â He pauses for a moment, pupils dilating as his fingers curl around the rags he holds in his hand, covered in your blood, âIt has been even longer since I have been around fresh blood.â It feels surreal to have it confirmed, that the creature that sits before you is one youâve seen only in movies and read in far-fetched romance novels. Yet, you feel no fear, that emotion all but vanished the second he halted everything just to care for an intruder's wound.
âMy friends dared me to knock.â He cocks his head at that, a single eyebrow arching, bemused at your admission. âItâs been a dare for years, no one ever actually had the guts to do it.âÂ
âUntil you.â
A pause, your head dipping forward in an unsure nod.
âUntil me.âÂ
Heâs staring at you unabashedly now, your eyes wandering over the rich details of the bedroom you reside in as an excuse to save yourself from his piercing gaze, an unreadable expression swimming in carmine eyes.Â
âI am glad it was you.âÂ
You hate the embers of arousal that spark at his words, perturbed by your bodyâs reaction to seemingly innocent words spoken from a man you were sprinting away from less than an hour ago, and yet his eyes do nothing to put out the fire, intense and smouldering. You canât bring yourself to look away, nor to quash the way your heart flutters as his torso leans closer to your thighs that subconsciously part to make room for him. The action doesnât go unnoticed, nostrils flaring as sharp eyes zero in on the way your legs spread against silk sheets.Â
âAnd why is that, König?âÂ
Itâs as though you uttering his name opens the floodgates, black engulfing vermillion until only a sliver remains, thick fingers circling your shins as he leers further into the gap your parted thighs created, that same ravening stare that once sent fear trickling down your spine now leaves you gasping for breath for an entirely different reason.Â
âBecause I havenât seen something as pretty as you for a very long time, and I donât know if I have the strength to stop myself again, maus.âÂ
You couldnât prevent the whispered whine of his name if you had tried, eyelashes fluttering as you move to curl your fingers in his shirt, giving pathetic little tugs to the soft material of his silk shirt, eyes dipping down to where loose material tucks into black pants. Your back arches, a shameless display of desire as you slide your body closer towards the edge of the bed, and further into his touch.
âWho said anything about stopping?â
Your words remain suspended in the air around you, two sets eyes locked onto each other, blown black with barely-suppressed lust, and yet you donât dare to make the first move, waiting, wanting for him to shed his timid skin and swallow you whole, become the beast that stalked you through rooms just to feel the thrill of the chase. His hands leave your legs, instead balling up into tight fists against his own thighs, the skin around his knuckles taut as though restraining himself. For a mere moment, you fear he may have changed his mind, that is until he utters the word you craved to hear.
âRun.âÂ
You ignore the lingering ache in your joints, your thighs burning as you dash from the bedroom with renewed purpose, fuelled by the all-consuming thoughts of whatâs to come, excited to finally be caught, a far cry from the unbridled terror that sent you scrambling before. This time, he makes no effort to prowl in the shadows, your heart beat soaring as the loud thuds of footsteps echo from behind, the floorboards quaking under your feet from the force of his steps.Â
You know there isnât a chance heâs running at full speed, but even then he catches you almost embarrassingly quickly, built arms encircling your waist and crushing you against his torso, bringing you to the floor in an instant, leaving you to writhe helplessly between his body and the floorboards. You donât give in, however, limbs thrashing, nails clawing against whatever they can reach, whether it be the arms that pin you down, or the wood underneath you, feigning an attempt to escape.Â
That is until you feel two sharp points dig into your nape, not enough to break skin, but the threat of it leaves you frozen under him, a doe caught in the wolfâs jaws. But you donât fear the bite like wild prey would, somehow, you crave it, to feel his teeth sink into you, to let him lap at your blood and drain you near dry, anything just to feel like youâre his.Â
The pressure of sharpened canines begins to lessen, his teeth slowly peeling back from your skin, although anticipating your body to begin thrashing once again. But you remain subdued, the embers now engulfed by crackling flames that lick at your nerves and set your skin alight. Itâs only when his hips shift do you feel the tent in his pants pushing against the top of your thighs, your eyes fluttering shut as you push your ass down to grind shamelessly against his cock.Â
âTemptress,â The word is almost incomprehensible through the growl that reverberates through his throat, a sound that gives away entirely how affected he is, rough and wanting. âYou should be trembling beneath me from fear and yetâŠâÂ
His words trail off, a stuttered gasp replaces your heavy breathing when you feel sizeable fingers trailing down your sides before sliding under your body, cupping your inner thigh. Your heart hammers against your ribcage from the chase, now bolstered by the scandalous touch as his fingers skim past your clothed core, only catching onto the way his fingers curl into the material until itâs too late, hardly leaving you enough time to yelp before heâs tearing you bare below him. The tattered remains of your pants are haphazardly discarded, joined soon by the threadbare silk of your ripped panties, one of your favourite pairs torn in half with hardly an ounce of effort.Â
âYet here you are, schĂ€tzchen, quivering with need, dripping for the cock of the one that hunts you.âÂ
The rough pad of calloused fingers swipes against your exposed cunt, unable to suppress the heady whine that leaks past your agape lips, your forehead meeting the hardwood floor with a soft thump. That single touch renders you limp, muscles going lax as you melt into the glide of his fingers as they tease your folds, slowing on every up-stroke to rub slow circles against your clit. Itâs maddening, the pace in which he picks you apart, leaving you to grind on his fingers like a wanton whore just to feel the surmounting pleasure that builds in response to his touch. A tut sounds from above, heavy breath cascading over your nape as his head dips down, lips dragging from neck to the shell of your ear.
âWhat a desperate little thing you are, maus, you know what we call things like you in my native tongue?â Your head shakes, a breathy ânoâ muffled into the floor, âSchwanzschlampe, cock slut.â Embarrassment mixes in equal measure with arousal, curling one of your arms under your head to hide your face, the action short lived as strong arms flip you onto your back, one large hand gathering both your wrists together and pinning them above your head, exposed before him in every way. Itâs undeniably more intimate in this position, your eyes given little other option than to lock onto his as his other hand continues to tease your dripping cunt, carmine swimming with unrestrained desire pinning you to the floor as effectively as his near crushing grip on your wrists.
âYou canât hide your pretty face from me, liebling, I want to see how much you crave my touch.â He presses his forehead to yours, low candlelight from lamps that line the corridor walls glint off the two long fangs that peak past reddened lips with every word spoken. And itâs seemingly your turn to catch him off guard, your head tilting upwards to push your lips to his, swallowing his surprised gasp down greedily, arching your chest to push against his. The kiss is desperate, messy, a combination of saliva drips down your chin, moans and rumbled grunts creating a symphony that drifts down the winding halls of his home. With a nudge, you ensure his eyes are locked to yours as you part your lips, your tongue curling over his teeth before brushing over the point of his elongated canine.Â
With a push, you feel the sting as his fang just barely dips into soft flesh, a drop of blood beading at the surface before you push the muscle to his, locked onto the way his eyes roll to the back of his skull, the growl momentarily starting up again before his lips lock around your tongue, sucking at every morsel of blood that springs from the pinprick cut like a man starved. A man that has most likely been starved of blood directly from the source for more years that youâve been alive.Â
If you thought that youâd unlocked the beast within him before, the taste of your blood brings out an entirely new side. His lips part from yours, the crimson in his frenzied eyes transforming before you, as though enriched from just a taste of warm iron. You watch as his pupils dilate and constrict, each push and pull between black and red prove hypnotic as his eyes slowly begin to refocus, the colour to his irises seem dull in comparison to the bright vermillion flecked with gold that peers down at you, still wild with hunger, driven by need.Â
The moment is broken mere seconds later when his head drops to your neck, sharpened teeth dragging along the throbbing pulse at the base of your throat, and just when you expect the bite, youâre left gasping for an entirely unrelated reason as your shirt comes apart against sharp enamel, shredded where it surrounds your naked torso, leaving you entirely bare. Yet all it takes is a singular glance to realise he remains fully dressed, not a single article shed.Â
âKönig,â Your voice comes out strained, practically whining as though prepared to beg, âLet me undress you?âÂ
He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking up to you from under his lashes before the grip on your arms lessens, his legs folding under him as he rights himself into a kneeling position over your body. He suddenly seems unsure, maybe a little self-conscious as you lean up brushing your fingers over flowing pristine white silk, taking your time as you unfasten each button, never once letting your eyes stray from his. And despite the hint of bashfulness, he keeps his gaze pinned to you, a wary lion caught off guard by brave prey.Â
After the last button falls undone, you let the tips of your fingers trace up revealed skin, before pushing the shirt from his shoulders, and watching as it billows onto the floor, exposing a defined chest highlighted by a smattering of scars that tell stories you could only dream of hearing. Heâs nothing short of ethereal, otherworldly in every sense of the word, a behemoth of a beast, with the face of an angel.Â
âYou cover up a lot for a man as handsome as you are.â Your disguised question prompts a flinch, solid fingers clutching into fists at his side, but before you can rush to amend your words, he slumps, resigned to your curiosity.Â
âI have garnered a reputation I do not wish to catch up to me. It is safer to keep myself hidden, maus.â You make a mental note if you somehow find yourself in his company after this night to ask him more, a carnal need to know everything that makes up the being knelt above you. But you tuck them away for now, refocusing your attention to the waistband of his trousers, deft fingers wasting little time undoing the silver clasp and dragging down the zip until the front peels open.Â
âGood thing you donât have to keep hidden in front of me, huh?â Your lips tug upwards into a playful smirk, your hands planting on the solid muscle of his chest before youâre pushing him backwards, letting his legs splay out either side of your now free body before easing both his pants and underwear down the corded muscle of his thigh, marvelling at each inch of skin revealed to ravenous eyes. His trousers join the crumpled mess of clothes that lay scattered across the floor, giving him no time to adjust to his new found nudity before your head is ducking down, tongue flitting out to lick a long strip from the base of his cock to the tip.Â
Your enthusiasm is immediately rewarded with a faltered whine, watching from under your lashes as his head lolls backwards, trembling fingers coming to cup either side of your face. Heâs big, his cock twitching against the defined muscle of his abdomen, thick and long, and nothing short of daunting. Yet you choose to focus on the way your pussy clenches around air at the mere sight of it, overwhelmed by the knowledge that youâll understand what it is to be split open by him, to be fucked by him. Your tongue darts out once more to press against the tip, the small cut on the surface only just healed over, your spine shuddering at the dulled sting that follows as you begin to take the head of his cock between your lips, mouth stretched almost painfully around the girth.Â
It does nothing to dissuade you, however, tears clouding your vision of his blissed out expression as you swallow him down deeper, hardly taking more than two inches before your throat spasms around him in protest, coaxing a throaty whimper from spit-shined lips that has your hand darting down to your clit, fingers rubbing desperate circles into soaked flesh.Â
The following whine that reverberates around his cock swiftly gives you away, crimson eyes focusing in on the way your hand disappears between your thighs, before flitting back to the way your watering eyes remain locked to his, hissing out several curses in German at the sight of your lips wrapped around his straining cock.Â
âYour mouth⊠Gott, your fucking mouth,â strong fingers guide your head off his cock, your lips separating from the tip with a lewd pop, strings of saliva and pre-cum connecting your lolled out tongue to his cock. âNeed to fuck you, schĂ€tzchen, I canât wait any longer, verdammte hölleââÂ
Youâre not given any warning before heâs pinning your back to the floor, bringing your knees up to your chest and bending you in half, a feat you didnât know you were capable of before his strong fingers moulded you into the perfect position to take his cock. Folded like this, you canât help but feel like a doll in his hands, your height and weight rendered meaningless under the sheer size of the monster above you. Trepidation begins to simmer under the surface of your skin, trying to imagine just how your body could ever make room for him.Â
But he doesnât leave you much time to fret before his head falls to your thighs, thick fingers twitching from where they hold up your legs as his nose buries into your pubic bone. Long strands of brunette block your vision, startling as you register the feeling of something thick and wet pressing against your folds.Â
âK-König!â Your cry prompts a responding groan from the man below you as his tongue licks firm stripes up the length of your cunt, glassy eyes drifting up to you as though intoxicated, drunk of the heady taste of your arousal. With a jolt, youâre left helpless to watch as one of his hands slides down your thigh, stuttering through another gasped moan of his name as you feel a single thick digit slide into the wet heat of your pussy, eyes watering at the stretch that merely one of his fingers provides.Â
He doesnât hold up, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking the second he feels your walls clamp around him, slowly easing your muscles into accepting a second finger, distracting you from the momentary pain by lapping his tongue against your engorged clit. But even so, taking two of his fingers feels like more of a challenge than any cock youâve taken in the past, eyes rolling backwards as he begins to crook them within you, calloused fingers rubbing against the gummy walls of your cunt in a way that has you convulsing around him, warbled sobs hiccuping past your lips as you feel your first climax rip through your body.Â
âOne more, maus, I need you to take one more so I know I wonât hurt you.âÂ
Tears track down your face, still processing the intensity that just wracked your body, but you nod down at him anyway, rewarded with a gentle smile and whispered praise as he cautiously eases a third finger into you, pausing the second he hears a pained hiss after the first knuckle. He hums, placing tender kitten licks against your still throbbing clit, letting you push past tender overstimulation to help pull your mind off the burning stretch, refocusing your attention to the pleasure his mouth provides.Â
âDoing so well, liebling, almost thereâŠâ His words are whispered against your glistening pussy, eyes firmly fixed on yours as he guides you through, until finally all three of his fingers are pushed to the hilt, cooed praise following immediately after.Â
âKönig, need you, I need you inside of me, please.â Your sniffled plea evokes nothing more than a playful smile from him as he cocks his head to the side.Â
âAm I not inside of you right now, maus?â His tone is teasing, words accompanied by a wiggle of the fingers that remain buried in your cunt, coaxing a depraved moan from your already raw throat.Â
âYour cock, wanâ your cock so bad,â It takes a second to search for the word that sits on the tip of your tongue, your eyes sparking when it finally comes to you, âBitte, König.â
Itâs immediate, the way his fingers pull from your cunt and secure themselves back around your thigh, darkened rubies glinting with that same predatory stare youâre all too familiar with now. He wastes no time as the tip of his cock bumps against soaked folds, your fingers wrapping around his veined shaft as you guide him inside, mouth parting in a silent cry as the tip pushes past the first ring of muscle and leaves you breathless.Â
There is no mistaking that three of his fingers gave you a mere taste of the stretch, belatedly wondering how on Earth heâll fit amongst the tight walls of your cunt, and the other organs that surround it. But by some grace of God, he continues to move, inch after thick inch swallowed by your cunt as though it were made for him, a perfect match, the monster and his plaything, the predator and its ever willing prey.Â
A rush of air finally fills your lungs once the dull slap of his hips meets your ass, unfocused eyes widening as you take in the protrusion of his cock, the bulge obscenely large where it stretches out your skin.Â
âSâbig, youâre so fuckinâ big, what the fuckââÂ
Slurred rambles are cut off with a searing kiss, passionate and fiery as his hips begin to draw back, swallowing down frenzied curses as he slams back into you, setting a cruel pace right from the start. You never had a chance, you should have known, and yet you regret nothing as he pounds into your abused cunt, your cervix meeting the tip of his weeping cock with each forceful thrust, thick veins rubbing against the walls of your pussy and leaving you glassy eyed and cock-drunk.Â
Mindless babbles flow from drooling lips, your neck drooping to the side as you hope your eyes convey your needs without resorting to incoherent words. But it takes little more than exposing your throat to him before his lips latch onto the flesh, sucking a line of bruises into your skin before finally settling over your jugular, the only pre-warning of the oncoming bite being the scrape of fangs before theyâre puncturing skin, flooding your veins with a venom that has your toes curling, fingernails digging into the muscle of his back and dragging thick red lines against shuddering flesh.Â
His pace never falters, hips still careening against yours as his lips suck around the two minute incisions, drinking down your blood with a thirst youâve never witnessed. Whether itâs the subduing poison that flows through your bloodstream, or the shift of hips as his cockhead nudges the walls of your cunt in a way that has stars blooming behind your eyelids, you find yourself hurtling into another climax, whimpered cries and bloodied nails evidence of your earth-shattering orgasm.Â
His lips finally part from your skin with a slick sigh, lips painted the most beautiful shade of crimson that drips down his chin, a line that marks your possession, evidence heâs consumed by you, drunk on you. And itâs as you lean down, your tongue dragging against the bloodied stubble of his chin, lapping up what remains of your scarlet ichor, that he finally succumbs to the pleasure, his cock jolting within you as he releases seemingly endless spurts of cum against your cervix, buried as deep within your body as biology will allow.Â
Panted breaths intermingle as his forehead presses flush to yours, lidded eyes, now nearly entirely consumed by gold peers at you, an interesting mix of fascination and something that looks almost fond discernible in his gaze. You still have so many questions, intrigued and just a little bit obsessed with the man above you, yet itâs apparent that your feelings are far from unrequited, and one day, every question that burns at your tongue and begs for answers will be satiated. For now, youâll bask in his looming presence and tender care, grateful to have found him in the first place, however unfortunate the initial meeting was.Â
Just as his lips ghost against yours, the distant sound of creaking has you both freezing in place.
âH-Hello? You still in here?â
â... ScheiĂe.â
#none of these thoughts were in the bible#not a single one#and yet here i am#still sinning#KSDFJSLDF#anyway please enjoy whatever this is#könig mw2#könig#könig modern warfare#konig cod#konig x reader#konig x you#konig x y/n#könig x y/n#könig x you#könig x reader#cod mw22#cod x reader#cod x you#âïžâ
writing
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how does shanks manage to have some kind of sexual tension with every warlord in the sea whilst also having practically zero screen time. ramona-esque dilf of the east blue. luffy wants to be king of the pirates but is stuck sailing through the several deadly seas of his dad's evil exes. they see the straw hat and it activates their fight reflex. half-convinced that shanks gave it away with full knowledge of this
#one piece#son. return my hat after you've defeated my several evil exes#how does one man have so much divorced energy with so many people while also not being present to give this context#monkey d. luffy vs. the world#yeah im still watching the anime#forgive thy sins of weeb posting#opla#shanks#red haired shanks#mishanks#shuggy#CJ's op watch-through
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snapple knees
#cult of the lamb#cotl#cotl meme#apple bees#cotl lamb#cotl narinder#cotl the one who waits#cotl baal#cotl aym#cotl bishops#cotl leshycat#cotl narilamb#cotl ratau#cotl sins of the flesh#because there's an egg#they needed to take it with them because it needed to be babysat#idk whose it is#I was originally gonna include a bunch of random followers but I ran out of space and thought the bishops would be funnier#just imagine the followers all squeezed together in another table#you can't see it but narinder is still wearing the socks and sandals from the fishing drawing I did#that's just canon for me
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still in utter shock that phil brought up the neck thing whilst touching dan's neck. like. that's a real thing that happened in that video. he casually brings it up as if it were top of mind to reference here. 'remember the neck thing' as if the last mention of it wasn't like 8 years ago
#and yet. we still knew!#i had the thought in the split second *before* he brought it up!#my eyes went đđđ when he reached over and my soul was awashed of ancient sins#dnp#c.text#dan and phil#phan
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no, girl im fineâ Iâm just crying over the gospel again
#GOD CHOSE TO SEND HIS SON TO SAVE AN UNWORTHY PEOPLE#JESUS CHRIST â GOD THE SON â CAME DOWN AND LIVED AMONGST AN EVIL HUMANITY#HE LIVED THE LIFE WE CANâT#HE DIED THE DEATH WE DESERVE#HE BECAME OUR SIN FOR US#HE BORE THE WRATH THAT IS OURS#HE IS ALIVE#GOD THE FATHER LOVES US WITH THE SAME LOVE HE LOVES THE SON#JESUS SENT GOD THE HOLY SPIRIT TO INDWELL AND BE WITH US#WHEN HE COMES BACK GOD WILL LOOK AT ME AND MY EVIL THAT PUT JESUS ON THE CROSS#AND HE WILL SEE CHRISTâS OBEDIENCE#HE WILL SEE HIS SONâS RIGHTOUSNESS#THERE IS NOTHING ON EARTH OR IN HEAVEN THAT CAN CHANGE THAT#GOD SWORE BY HIS OWN NAME THAT HE WOULD SAVE A PEOPLE THAT HE DETERMINED BEFORE THE FOUNDATION OF THE WOLRD#NONE THAT THE FATHER GAVE TO CHRIST WILL HE LOSE#WE WILL DWELL WITH CHRIST FOR ETERNITY BECAUSE HE CHOSE US AND BOUGHT US AND CLOTHED US IN HIS RIGHTOUSNESS WHILE WE WERE STILL GOD HATERS#SOLI DEO GLORIA#gospel#reformed theology#theology#g.txt
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fire nation festival wear aka a blatant excuse for me to push atla clothing design conventions to the absolute Limit
jjk atla!au with @philosophiums
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#fanart#jjk fanart#fushiguro megumi#itadori yuuji#kugisaki nobara#jjk atla!au#atla!au: art#atla!au: illust#atla!au: design#lmhs#yuuji#megumi#nobara#there i go again putting way too much effort into designs that will b featured in all of one (1) chapter probably#the first fire nation fit i did for yuuji isnt even fic canon btw for the majority of th time theyll just be in their earth kingdom clothes#and these r the only fire nation clothes they'll Actually wear fr a significant amt of time#so feel free 2 disregard th other fit i designed for yuuji in that ask because this is all i want to see him in Ever actually#no ankles no chest no toes showing my boy is FULLY clothed. not an INCH of skin exposed. no sinful clothing cuts here no sir#did i draw him buttoned up from head to toe out of spite? maybe :)#'fire nation is based on imperial japan' me: on it boss taisho era inspired festival wear comin RIGHt up#real talk though these designs put me through the Wringer cries combining those two influences ws so hard...#all 3 braincells working *nanami voice* overtime smh#imo the final designs still ended up being a far cry from atla canon but i cant be bothered anymore they look Fine its Fine#my kids r dressed 2 the nines and that was the goal
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#nameless ghouls#the band ghost#sisters of sin#im still celebrating even though it's the 5th uvu#my art
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#love of my life#finished rewatching fmab recently#itâs still the best show ever I fear#fullmetal alchemist#fullmetal alchimist brotherhood#fma#fma brotherhood#fmab#fma fanart#fma lust#fmab lust#seven deadly sins#art#my art#artwork#fanart#digital art#drawing
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Thanks Eileen, I honestly hadn't noticed... đš
#sin scribbles#bloodborne#good hunter bloodborne#hunter bloodborne#eileen the crow#eileen bloodborne#(yes this is based on that one buzz and woody meme LOL)#(this is always the mental image i have when i meet eileen LMAO)#(i dont know if this has been done before but STILL)#(enjoy some bonus silliness)#(ruza stands there wishing she ignored that stupid god damn letter more than ever)#(i love eileen i rly should draw her more)
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Whenever Arthur talks badly about himself in the mirror I always think about this one picture
#because like#yeah#he sees himself as this cruel ugly bastard who will never make up for his sins#but ask quite literally anybody who knows him well and they'll say otherwise#the fact that his other relationships have failed for whichever reasons only reinforces his belief that he is unlovable and unworthy of love#which isn't true#arthur *wanted* to run away with mary more than anything even during the events of the game#after all those years he still *wanted* that#he wanted to run away with mary and be happy and be *loved*#and arthur knows that he has done a lot of bad#he says it himself that you can't live a bad life and expect good things to happen to you#but the whole idea of arthur being unable to see himself the way that others see him physically haunts me#oh arthur#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#mick thinks#arthur morgan#red dead redemption community#red dead redemption 2 spoilers
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get his ass scary !!!
#dndads#dndads fanart#dungeons and daddies#dndads s2#dndads season 2#dndads spoilers#scary marlowe#willy stampler#dndaddies#dndads quest#first time trying to properly letter a thing i still dont get how vectors work in photoshop...#i probably made some errors and committed heinous sins against comic lettering but oh well#also the colours were SO HARD for this one. too purple man too much
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My silly take on âhumanizedâ Kinitopet but he got to build himself a body so he can be closer to you :3
#sin talks#sin doodles#kinitopet#kinito pet#kinito the axolotl#he is still all wires and parts of a computer but he tried so hard for you#he always lets out a constant humming of a computer and wishes he could feel#but being close enough to you is enough
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the guardians. they speak to me. they go "you need to draw us full of whimsy" i answer. i am weak. or something
#destiny 2#destiny fanart#destiny guardians#i need to draw at a higher resolution but i no wanna . . .#i am still not normal about nezarec's sin i think it is rather dashing
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How fucking DARE they tease me like this
#Anyway. Fan translation of Mom 3 is free and you all should play it :)))))#Mother 3#Earthbound#Mother series#Nintendo#Shima speaks#CLAUS DIDN'T [REDACTED] FOR OUR SINS FOR THIS.#It's okay Claus I'm still your no 1 fan always and until the end of time you hear me
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dating jeremy swayman
nsfw under the cut, minors please dni
physical touch and quality time are his top love languages, you cannot convince me otherwise
heâs always wrapping his arms around you and pulling your body into his bigger frame to engulf you in a hug
he loves a good cuddle and getting to hold you in his arms while you rest your head against his chest so you can hear his strong and steady heartbeat
he spends so much of his time out in nature, away from his phone with no distractions, so if you went on a hike with him he'd be so present and in the moment with you
jeremy talks a lot about how he wants to work his ass off to earn every opportunity he gets to play and he has that mentality in the bedroom too⊠he will work to please you and do everything he can to earn the reward of making you cum
part of being a goalie is having intense focus and being dialed in so he would be incredibly focused on how your body responds to his touch and his voice and heâs able to read your body so well and knows just how to make you completely fall apart
heâs so patient and usually isnât in a rush and likes to take his time with you and prefers slow and sensual yet passionate sex over a quick rough fuck (though heâs not entirely opposed to it)
but he will ALWAYS perform some good aftercare for you
he's so attentive when he's leaving soft kisses all over your skin as he cleans you up, checking in on you "you okay there, pretty girl?" and murmuring "you did so well, love you so much", massaging any part of your body that might be sore
he also plays guitar so we know heâs skilled with his hands
his fingers are probably calloused and a little rough but it feels amazing when he rubs them against your clit or when he finally slides them into your wet and waiting pussy
heâs got a praise kink (hello?? telling ully âIâm coming handsome!â and the âfuck sheâs a good girlâ clip that lives in my head rent free like heâs not afraid to give out compliments and loves to worship you!!!!!!!)
heâs often described as one of the most vocal goalies so heâs gotta be just as vocal in bed
he will let you know how good you make him feel with his deep moans and groans and breathy curses when your lips are wrapped around his cock or your pussy is fluttering and squeezing him
âfuck, thatâs it. right there. feels so good. such a good girl for me.â
âkeep doing that, baby.â
also BITING KINK
yâall seen the way he bites his jersey???
I just KNOW he would love biting and marking you up
maybe it starts off as just soft, slow kisses but soon the two of you have moved to the couch and youâre perched on his big lap straddling him while making out
one of his big hands has found its way into your hair at the base of your neck and with an ever so gentle tug he signals for you to lean your head back so he can detach his lips from yours and trail kisses from your shoulder to your collar bone and up your neck and jaw
he lets his teeth sink into your flesh and you wince a little bit at the stinging sensation but he quickly eases any of your discomfort when he runs his tongue along the mark he left on you
god he would love leaving bite marks and hickeys all over your neck and breasts
he would be so smug about it too, just leaning back and admiring his work with a little cocky smirk when you run your fingers over the marks he left you when you assess the damage in your bathroom mirror later
you roll your eyes at him, but truthfully you love it too because itâs a reminder that he wants you and youâre his girl
and how can we not discuss his confidence and cockiness?
the way he is always smirking and winking during warmups
AND HIS MANSPREADING
the man knows he's packing
I have it in my head that he loves when you sit on his lap and wrap your arms around him to keep your balance
and he LOVES when you ride him
he enjoys seeing the pleasure on your face as you take what you need from him, doing whatever it takes to get yourself off on him
and after he's sure you've had at least one orgasm, he'd take control and thrust his hips up and drive his cock into you deeper and deeper, finding your most sensitive spots to bring you to another earth-shattering orgasm
tagging a few of my fellow sway girlies: @pyotrkochetkov @senditcolton @barzysunflower @cellythefloshie
#WHAT DO I EVEN TAG THIS DUMPSTER FIRE OF SIN THAT NO ONE ASKED FOR#jeremy swayman#jeremy swayman imagine#jeremy swayman smut#jeremy swayman headcanon#nhl smut#dhdbbdsjjsjsjs the h**** brainrot really got to me and now here we are#this is still me pushing the sexy sway agenda#n e wayz enjoy!
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hotel manager
#zeno's art#i'm not sure if i should tag the show itself as i'm not a fan but i guess its âfanâart so i will#hazbin hotel#charlie hazbin hotel#vivziepop#i was bored and wanted to draw something#my main goal here was to create a design that looked distinct and could (potentially) be moderately easy to animate#of course based on charlie's character i added as many angel images as possible through the hair and bowtie#(i know white on white is a character design sin but i wanted to show the angel wing detail ;w;)#also to express the personality and juxtaposition of a sweet devil her horns are supposed to curve into a heart shape#of course the garterbelts are upside-down/st peters crosses because of her satanic themes#i also tried to go harder into the goat theme but its still subtle i think#i actually think the goat theme is really interesting because of the story of the sheep and the goats in the bible#but i cant remember if it was actually something intended in her original design#i'm not going to draw anyone else so dont even anticipate that#this was basically a cooldown? ok i think i'm rambling now#goodbye#ok edit to say it clearly: i am not a fan of vivziepop or her work. i just wanted to redesign charlie as a cooldown/exercise for fun#because i used to be a fan of the character before i wised up about what vivzie had and has done#and before i matured and noticed the cracks and fundamental flaws in her works#so yea i dont support her at all and this redesign is critical i guess#also the reason why the tag âvivziepopâ is there in the first place is so that anyone who has that tag silenced can scroll past#without seeing anything related to her work. in case that clears anything up#its the same reason why i tag âlong postâ and âfoodâ and the like
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