#Monster!König smut

[wizardrousactivity]

Monster!König Drabble

Short little drabble as I try to get writing done :')

TW: Pure smut. Monster fucking (real)

Monster!König always felt as if he didn’t care for lingerie, just wanting to rip it off and get to the goods. Pushing some tentacles inside of you and making you scream. Peak. Till you showed up in bed in a cute two piece lingerie set, light pink and white. A small ruffle collar connected by strings on your neck, adorning your soft features. You looked so perfect in this, it was kinky indeed - a maid lace at the bottom. Along with your own pair of white gloves. 

His tentacles skimmed over the material, running up the lines of your panties, causing a shiver to run through you. You relaxed into his touch, letting him ogle at your prettiness. He purred as if he was content, tugging and pulling at the fabric just to feel it. Look at it more. He teased you more like this, extending the foreplay - which you never thought was possible with somebody like him. 

That’s when König realized how much he liked pretty things, folding and spreading you open into a mating press and nearly tearing your panties while moving them to the side. Stuffing you full with his cock.

what I was imagining!!

[konigsblog]

expanding on this stupid idea...

two-dicked könig fucking your tight asshole and cunt at the same time.🩸

tw/cw; — non-con/dub-con, hybrid fucking, monster fucking, mentions of kidnapping. 18+

photo credits; x_bruisedpeach_x on x/🐦

you're not exactly sure how you got yourself into this mess. he's some sort of hybrid, with horns and dark eyes, gazing into your soul and possessing your body. he turns you into a fleshlight for himself and his own satisfaction, lifeless in his tight grip as he takes control over you every movement, pushing himself into your swollen folds, his other dick prodding at your tight asshole.

your back is against the wet grass, prior to a thunderstorm. it's still raining slightly, the light raindrops against your face, gazing dizzily into the night sky. your eyes look empty with no sign of life despite your beating heart, with könig pushing both of his large, hung cocks into you, his firm grasp only tightening when he slides himself inside, forcing your legs apart at his will.

it's a struggle, of course it is. being stuffed from both ends isn't exactly the comfiest thing ever, and you're sure as hell struggling to take every inch of his meaty dicks. your ass aches at the fullness, your stomach creating a bulge, disappearing and reappearing when he drives his muscular, sturdy hips into you. you're so small in comparison to the seven foot giant, his brute body hunched over yours to protect you from any other monster that lingers in the forest late at night, the smell of sweat and sex burning your nostrils. könig heaves and growls, a demonic and unholy sound emitting from deep within him.

your tight pussy clutches onto his heat instinctively, his heavy balls tight and full of load, that he'll shoot into both holes of yours. your body is weak with his thrusts only becoming more violating and humiliating, forced to be compliant with him as he takes over your mind, turning you into a set of holes simply for his own selfish benefit. the dark claws on his large, calloused hands dig into your flesh as he pounds into you, ploughing into your soft slit mercilessly, leaving marks that you'll remember him by, when you're locked away in a little cage for him, a captive in his grimey hands.

fuck, how is a tiny little thing like you supposed to takes loads of his milky, creamy semen? especially when it's fucked into your holes at a rapid and ruthless pace, leaving your form weak and defenceless beneath him, pleading for mercy through struggled whines and protests, his creamy stickiness oozing from the sides of your cunt, stuffed to the brim.

serve your purpose and become a slave for him.

[the-froschamethyst4]

Tentacles Pt:2

𖤐Pairing: Octopus! König x Witch! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Pt1: tentacles

𖤐Warnings: smut, language, P in V, tentacle play, kinky, bondage, eating out, pinching, biting, boob grabbing, ass grabbing, nipple play, slight choking, teasing, mouth work, obsession, in heat, non-verbal König, masturbation, public sex,

𖤐Summary: Familiar König is in heat, here is all the times he has fucked his witch

————

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It's been a few months now, König and Y/n would fuck...and I mean FUCK!

König has Y/n bent over her counter, she had closed her shop early because of König going into heat. König has been in heat for a week now.

Y/n grips the counter her nail digging into the dark oak wood counter. König threw his head back as skin was slapping against each other. Y/n's soft moans filled her shop.

Y/n also hasn't talked to Soap since the day he came to the door to apologized to her.

König's nails dug into her waist. His tentacles moving from her waist, her shoulders and around her neck. She tries to moan but his grip around her neck tightened.

She was trying to breath but his grip tightens even more. Her right hand grabs at his tentacles and she sounded like she was choking now. Then both of her hands reach for his tentacles trying to pry his tentacles off her neck.

"K-K-König!" She yells. His eyes watched as her face was going a bit red and he releases her neck, she leans forward and starts to cough. He stops his sloppy thrusts.

"I-I'm fine," she chokes out. She puts her hand on his lower stomach to make him stop. He pulls out of her and comes around the front to check on her, he didn't mean to hurt her.

Click, click, c-click

"I'm fine, King, I promise, I'm fine, you were just a little excited," she puts her hand under his chin.

---------

Days and days König would find a way to fuck Y/n to overcome his sexual needs. Y/n was bouncing on him, his hands on her ass squeezing her and smacking her any chance he gets. She moans when feeling the slight sting on her ass.

"K-König!" She moans, tossing her head back, his hands moved to her waist to guide her and his tentacles all over her squeezing her, suctioning to her. Two were perfectly around her breasts squeezing and the tip of them flicking her nipples earning a soft moan from her.

One around her thigh, squeezing them. Then another one resting on her ass.

She tosses her head back and moaned before coming on him, he groans bucking his hips up and coming inside on her. She moved off him to watch the cum drip from her lower half onto his dick.

He picks her up making her rest on the bed, his tentacles still on her and his hands squeezing her perfect body. He lifts the shirt over his face and kissed her stomach, chest, neck and then lips.

--------

König was on his back pumping himself in his hand. Y/n was out at the market leaving him behind to watch over the shop and house, but he grew bored and grew very horny out of nowhere.

He lays on his back on Y/n's bed, pumping himself quickly thinking about Y/n, thinking about her body, her pussy lips how they go around him when he fucks her.

He groans when he thinks about Y/n's mouth wrapped around his dick, giving him head.

"King?" He stops for a moment but started up his pace again when he was caught touching himself.

Y/n drops her little tote bag and walked towards him stripping from her dress and crawling on the bed, kissing his tip but then crawling on top of him, swatting his hand away from his dick and slowly sitting on him.

Bouncing on him and he moans when feeling her. His tentacles reached out for her. She takes one wrapping it around her hand and gently touching him, she takes another one and licks it and then licking another one.

He groans and then feels himself about to cum inside of her. Y/n moans when feeling his cum shoot inside of her.

"Aww, König," she coos.

---------

Y/n leaned over the counter giving a potion to a lady, Y/n's dress was short and exposed her cute little panties. König was behind her in his salt water tank as his little flapjack octopus-self.

He was attached to the tank glass wall tentacles out on display as he wanted her right now and she was teasing him.

"Your octopus is weird," the lady says as Y/n looks over her shoulder smiling at König.

"He is pretty weird," she says, facing the woman again before she left, Y/n heard some splashing behind her, she knew König was behind her, she then was pushed against her counter, her skirt up on her hips and her panties were pulled down to her ankles and she felt him slip inside of her.

"Ah!" She moans as he was thrusting into her, his tentacles went under her chest squeezing her breasts and flicking and pinching her nipples.

"Fuck...k-keep going," she moans out.

König then drop to his knees and licks between her folds, his tentacles held her thighs as her door opens.

She hides her moans and greets the woman that came in, she comes to the counter.

"Y/n it's been a while, how is everything?"

"G-Good...what can I do you for?" Y/n asks. Biting her bottom lip and feeling König shove one of his tentacles inside, making her moan but she cut it off.

"AHH~ Yes, I can make that," she says with an awkward smile.

"Y/n are you okay? Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm f-feeling just peachy," she smiles.

"Where's König? Is he under your shirt again?" Everyone knows about König's favorite spot being under Y/n's shirt.

"No, he's a-around here somewhere-AHH~" Y/n ended up coming on König's tentacle.

"Y/n?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she smiles.

The lady leaves and König pops up from under the counter and his tentacles touch her and caressing her.

"You naughty, octopus."

----------

Y/n held König in her hands as they walked along the beach, this was König's first time back at the beach when Y/n had found him.

He looks at the water and moves off of Y/n's hand and runs to the water, Y/n walks to the edge squinting down letting the water lap at her ankles.

König would go limp and let the water carry him back to Y/n. She smiles at him picking him up from the water and then placing him back into the water.

König turned into his human-self sitting in the water, she smiles and walks into the water with him, sitting on his lap letting the water soak her dress.

She kisses him and his hand cups her face deepening the kiss. His hands pushed her dress up and then pulled her panties to the side and guides her to sit on him.

This time it was fast and rough like usual it was soft and slow. He was gentle trying to take his time with Y/n, hearing her moans and appreciate them.

"You're so gentle," she says as she starts to slowly grind on him.

"I-I want you t-to feel g-good!" König stutters. König doesn't speak, he clicks as his communication and Y/n has learned it to understand him better. Of course it shocked Y/n when hearing him talk for the first time.

"You already do that," she says, cupping his face and kissing him.

----------

König sat on his favorite place, Y/n's tit. Y/n was giving out some potions to customers and helping customers pick out the right potions for them.

And König was sitting under Y/n's shirt playing with her nipple. She smacked him a couple times to stop, so she could focus and not draw attention to the little lump under her shirt.

König clicks a few times before Y/n digs in her shirt pulling him out, making him let go of her tit. She groans and holds him in her hand.

He tries to quickly move back under Y/n's shirt but she quickly grabs him again and placed him back in his tank behind the counter. She could hear him click and she turns seeing him pout.

"You big baby," she says, turning back around to face her store.

König swims under a little rock cave. Pouting and clicking as he watched Y/n. He loved watching Y/n work but he wants to be close to her.

Her shop door opened and a man came in. It wasn't odd for a man to come in here but Y/n's shop was mainly for women. She greets the man like every other customer, giving him a soft smile as she stalks the shelves.

"Hey, I'm looking for," he pulls out a list. "Newt's eye, cherry blossom petals, dill, lavender, and I also need eel brain."

"Okay, yep just give me a few minutes," Y/n says, König keeps an eye on the man. The man was walking around picking up a raven skull and tucking it into his pocket.

König swims out of his cave and sticks to the tanks glass wall watching him closely again. He picks up a glass jar of an embryo of a baby bird, stuffing it back into his pocket.

König starts climbing up the glass wall and drops to the floor turning into his human body. He stalks towards the guy, his body towered over him, the man slowly turns when feeling this darkness consume him.

König picks the man up by his collar and turns him upside down shaking him making him drop everything he stole from Y/n. She turns seeing König shaking him.

"König!" He drops him and the man runs out the store. Y/n sees all the things that belonged in her store. "Oh...thank you, König," she says.

He clicks before turning into the small octopus form and climbing back into his tank. Y/n walks to his tank dipping her hand into his tank. Catching his attention, he swims to her hand sticking to her hand and she pulls her hand out.

"Thank you," she kisses his head and he made himself comfortable back under her shirt.

----------

Y/n lays on her stomach on her bed, her ankles crossed as she was reading glasses on her face and her hair in a messy bun, and where was König?

Making himself comfortable on her butt, her oversized t-shirt was on her lower back and her panties were a bit showy. König's tentacles were bouncing Y/n's butt.

His suction cups sticking to her butt and unsticking from her butt causing a slight bounce/jiggle. Y/n didn't care as long as he was entertained and wasn't causing any problems.

König turned into his human form and he used his knees to open her legs up, he flips her on her back and pulled her panties down. Y/n was still reading her spell book, as König lifted his mask and his tentacles stuck to her thighs, waist and one swirling around her pussy lips and then slowly pushing inside of her.

She let's out a soft moan, her hips buck up. König lifts his mask and nibbles at her clit. She moans and drops her book to her chest, she watches him and watches how gentle he was with her.

Her head went back into her pillow and her thighs wanted to close but König was keeping them open.

"K-König," she moans.

"A-Am I doing it r-right?" He asks.

"Just p-perfect," she moans.

He keeps going and Y/n felt her tummy start to knot up, she moans and ended up coming on his tongue he licks it up and then licks her clean.

[diejager]

König

Reminder : My blog contains dark/yandere content and have 18+ fanfics, so MDNI with NSFW fics. I also do fluff and angst. All my works are fiction : I don’t own any of the characters I write for; there might be triggering subjects - please see the warnings before reading. None of the gifs or visuals I use in my fics are mine.

Your consumption of media is your responsibility and yours alone.

Nav | CoD

[dark, fluff, yandere, nsfw(*), angst, request]

Saccharine and Monstrosity(*) | d,y

Pairing: Dark!Cthulhu König x fem!reader

He found something worth much more than gold and silver, and madness and corruption. He found a pretty little mermaid to brighten up his cold, dark home and care for. To love something he was created to hunt and kill; to care for something he watched from afar; to hold something so fragile between his many, many arms. It’s sinful pleasure, a blasphemous reunion, but he doesn’t care. He wants you, so he’ll have you.

Stepdad!könig & dbf!horangi* | collection - d,r

Your mother marries again and he doesn’t come alone.

Pervy!Roommate!König* | collection - d,r

You like your new roommate, he’s really nice.

Doll AU(*) | d,r

Pairing: dark!Krueger + König x doll!reader

You were once made of porcelain and wax, a precious doll to pamper and care. Now, you are made of skin and bone, a fragile doll to fuck and keep.

Gentle Giant | f

You know König as a different person.

Childhood Friend | f,d,y,r

You know him as well as he knows you - or so you thought.

Helping Hand* | f

Pairing: König x fem!reader x Horangi

Horangi’s stretching you out for König.

Failed Escape* | d,y,r

In moments of fear-inducing adrenaline and hope, you’re driven to escape your captor, but all of your efforts are thwarted in the end and he isn’t as forgiving as he says he is.

Come Back | r,d

Just when you found someone who understood you, who knew and felt your pain, he found you.

Taste* | r,d

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!König x fem!reader

He's an old and rich man wanting to spoil and pamper his sweet baby.

Doctor's Appointment* | r

Pairing: Gynecologist!König x innocent!reader

You've been having a few issues and you're just so fortunate that Dr. König's a generous man.

I Know Best* | r,d

Pairing: stepbro!könig x stepsister!reader

Your brother knows best, he always does. So why don't you forget about that boy and listen to him.

Eldritch* | f What if… Brahms König? | d What if... Brahms König? Pt2 | d, r What if… Brahms König? Pt3 | d,r Hunt* | d Mocha | f,r,d No Escape | r,d,y God* | r,y,d Young | f,r Sharing* | r,d pervy!stepbro!könig* | r,d sleazy husband!könig* | r,d Mine* | r [male!reader] Sacrifice* | r,d [Angel!König] Smile* | r,d [kidnapper!König] Dark!Cfb!König* | d,r Too Strong* | r [König/Soap]

[pixielover1]

Wild Flowers.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Monster!König x reader.

Königs ears flicker and he stares at you with dumbfounded eyes. He thought maybe he was hearing things. He happily nods his head, so hard you’d think it would fly off. He was then following you home with the hot soup in his hands. You could hear his tail cutting through the air. You had no idea what you were doing or why, but you were allowing some strange man into your home! You push the door open and hold it for him as his hands are full. You kick off your shoes and lose a couple inches of height. König places the pot down on your kitchen counter and turns back to face you. Looking down to you, you catch how his eyes are filled with blatant excitement. Such an infectious feeling transfers over to you, making your body and doubts ease. Ever since he fixed your door, an odd feeling has been bubbling inside of your stomach.

You take in a small breath and walk into your bedroom. He truly follows like a lost puppy, keeping himself in arms reach of you. You sit on the edge of your bed and he remains standing with a craned neck. You pat the empty spot next to you for him to sit. He obliges and makes the bed dip from his weight. Noticing how dirty his clothes are, you absentmindedly trace a hand along his chest. You stand to your feet, now eye level with the wolf-man. He’s breathing hard again, and.. shaking? For König this was both heaven and hell. He was in your home, surrounded by your scent and being touched by you. But, it took everything in him not to grab and take you for his own. Unaware of his internal battle, you assume he’s just cold.

Still oblivious you slip his shirt off, now faced with his bare and hairy chest. You turn your back to him after tossing the fabric to the side. “I will go get some water to rinse you, I will be back” You’re only able to make one step before König snares you, his strong arms squeezing your body. His sparse and husky growls were filling your ears as his head dipped down to yours. The new found closeness allows his hot breath to tickle your neck and you feel aroused. “Nein. Stay.” He orders with no room for debate. You nodded as you were in no position to argue. With your submission, König feels his erection grow unbearable. In a flash your back is to the bed, König over you.

He is trembling, desperately trying not to fuck you right here. You gaze up at him with those innocent eyes and his penis jumps. He can’t stand to look at you any more. His savior, the one he would set the world ablaze for. He rests his head on the bed next to yours, his uneven breaths filling the quiet air. Your heart is pounding and a bundle of heat is forming between your legs. His monstrous body caged you between him and the mattress but for some reason, you grow concerned for the man. He looks unwell, so you let him know you’re still here and supporting him. You kiss his cheek. You kiss him. König stops breathing and his body becomes frozen in place. He slowly pulls back, looking at your face with awe and shock. You wore a soft smile on your face. Too inviting for him.

His eyes trace across your body and they linger on your flawless plump curves. He sees how your hips are made for breeding, and his dick starts to leak of precum. Without a warning, he takes his sharp claws and tears off your dress. You yelp, surprised at the sudden motion. His mouth doesn't know where to start, so he leaves kisses everywhere. Your tummy, your breast, your neck. nothing is untouched by him. animalistic noises seep from his mouth as he finally has you. You mewl under his passionate attacks. Your hips buck up in dire need of friction, the heat growing to be too much. König understands and slips his pants off, allowing his cock to spring out. It’s drooling for you, and it’s huge. The sheer length of it makes your breath hitch, and the girth makes your pussy throb. You want him inside of you. You need to feel him. You catch his gaze and you harp out to him, “Please.” That sole word sends König into a frenzy. He starts to rub his aching dick along your soft folds to get his slick onto you. He’s waited too long for this moment and he was going to fucking savor it. he slammed his lips onto yours needily, taking your lips and your breath. You claw at his back, need boiling up in your body past management. Your body is soon littered in deep marks and kisses. König bites and sucks at every inch of skin you have, making the spots ache. You're out of breath simply from his adoration of you. He gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead, making your heart flutter. But the kiss wasn't just him showing his love, it was a warning. He began to slide himself inside of your neglected hole. His growls grow as you have trouble fitting him inside of you. Screams leave your mouth at the stretch of his insane size. Tears roll down your cheek, but as quickly as they fall, König kisses them away. You tangle your trembling hands in his messy hair and try to pull him off of you. He doesn't budge. His jagged nails lock into the bed, leaving tears in your cottony sheets. Your whines make him twitch inside of you. He leans down, whispering in your ear. “Meine Liebe, ich werde dich niemals verlassen.” (My love, I will never leave you.) He then starts to take slow thrusts inside of you, forcing your pink walls open to no end. His weeping dick skirrs though your downy pussy, making you become accustomed to his monstrous shape. Your cries calm and die down into pants as it grows enjoyable. Once he feels your hips squirming, calling for more, he picks up his pace with a grunt. He fucks into you with a salacious stroke, hitting deep inside your gummy interior. You gasp when get a view of him wildly digging into you, his face entranced with ecstasy. He keeps your head trapped in between his arms, staring at you with intense lust. Your pretty face and sounds turned him even more barbaric.

He pulls out, flipping you onto your back. Harshly, he grabs your hips and pushes his cockhead inside your tightness again. Your body was just too welcoming. He rams into you with no remorse, ignoring your pleading speeches. Tears coat your cute face as he stuffs your pussy, the pain and pleasure consuming your mind. His grip on your ass leaves your skin red and sore. He feels the need to breed you, to make you his. Watching your perfect body bounce with every push spurs him on. You have no choice but to feel every thick inch plunge into your sensitive area. The bubble formed in your tummy is about to pop. He keeps his motions up, making your gushing hole remember the shape of him. With a loud cry you cum hard on his cock, making him give a dark chuckle. “Just like that, Mein kleiner Welpe.'' (My little pup) He cooed, stroking your back. You pant and paw at the sheets, the pleasure overwhelming your senses.

König knew then that you were made for him, for his cock. He knew his purpose was to protect and fill you to the brim with his seed. With newfound identity, he cums deep in your womb, your pleasured howls making him feel accomplished. He puts in a few more strokes, making sure you're filled with his cubs. He cherishes the memorable sight of your juices mixed together, cum leaking out your precious pussy. His perfect pussy. He kisses down your back as he carefully pulls out. When his mouth reaches your clit, he kisses it gently. You give him the softest moan he’s heard yet. Finding it so darling, he licks at your overstimulated lips. You whimper and breathe out, “Please.. I-i can’t '' He clusters up the small remains of self control in him, even though he wanted nothing more than to test the limits of your statement. He laid next to you and pulled you into his chest with ease. He rubbed your back calmingly. “Okay?” He asked, wanting to know if he hurt you or not. “I’m okay.” Your tired voice spoke, slightly raspy from the endless moaning. He looks down at you with a mellow smile. He wipes a tear away from your eye and whispers, “Königs.” You hum quietly in response, caving into his desires. At long last you were his; he feels complete. You rest against his chest and he lulls you to sleep, both of you eventually dozing off. He keeps a light sleep to ensure he can still protect you. Leaking his seed, König finally made you his Königin. The next time the sun came out, it would be burning brighter than before, and your life with him would begin.

Hello! This concludes Wild Flowers. I hope you enjoyed my first story! Please feel free to share ideas with me!

[honeyhumg]

Why do all chubby reader fanfics have to have the reader being degraded and humiliated, LIKE it’ll start with some sexy or awesome concept in the story and then boom, submissive reader. LIKE PLEASE FEED ME SOME DOM PLUSIZED ACTION. But when I do find one It ends up poorly written and rushed or to short. HELPP

[kathy-ifnt]

Were!Könic fanfic AND comic is almost done on my PATREON 😭

[yrsdf]

konig looked down to you, you sat across the room, wrists pained and red, arms heavy and tired being hung above your head by two chained cuffs, you were a tough one, you knew he wanted answers you knew he wanted you to tell him everything about what you were assigned to, what your objective was, who you were, your units name, he slowly walked toward you and crouched eye to eye with you, his head tilted, eye narrowed and he spoke

“You're making this harder, kleinen…I will not release you if you speak, but you will feel less pain if you do.”

You knew he was serious, the tone, the posture, the way he spoke with no change of tone, his tone flat, uncaring, and stern.

“I wont tell you shit… you could beat me to a bloody fucking pulp and i would remain silent.”

He laughed aloud, he sounded sinister and he stopped out of nowhere, his eyes dug holes into yours as his hand wrapped around your neck and he began to squeeze, he had no care for your pain tolerance, any injuries you had or any objectives you had, he simply just gripped harder and harder.

“Ich werde deine Tage hier schmerzhaft machen, klein und feurig macht Spaß.”

translations:

(small one)

(i will make your days here painful, small and fiesty is fun.)

[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 2 - A Caring Man

Monster!König x she/her afab reader

CN: patriarchy & sexism, arranged marriage, speaking animals, dead fish, mentions of cannibalism, harassment, ableist speech, woohoo another drowning reference, toxic masculinity village edition

eventuell smut.

Beta-read by the wonderful @queenquazar

Cultural context notes:

I’m basing a lot on central and eastern european fairy tales.

The heron is a figure from an old fairy tale called the heron & the fox.

Masterlist

“What’s it like being married?” the king asked.

“Lot’s of work if you are doing it right.” The old man leaned back and fixed his pipe. 

The wooden ceiling above your bed was familiar and simple. Since you were a child, you had woken up to this sight since you could remember. Now, it was the most fascinating thing to stare at.

Cracks, textures, knotholes in the old planks– all of it was better to look at than to face the world outside of your little room.

You closed your eyes. Maybe you could summon back the night, the past days, the… quite a lot of time actually since you last been happy.

A sunray danced over your face.

Saichiki – as your mother had called them, little sun rabbits jumping around and reminding you that it was indeed day no matter how much you tried to pretend otherwise.

You took a deep breath, opened your eyes and got up.

Swinging your legs over the edge of your bed before-

Wet.

You jolted back and peaked over the edge onto the floor.

A puddle of water covered the ground before your sleeping space. A trail of little puddles leading away from the water at your bed and out of the room. Careful not to step into the water again, you got up and traced the trail out of the room, into the empty kitchen and finally out of the door.

Confused, you looked into the garden.

In the middle of the path was a pile of freshly caught, still wriggling fish.

Quickly, you slammed the door.

König, you thought to yourself while sliding down the wood door, plopping on the floor.

You heard yourself choke as the memories as they returned: Your family was gone, your grandfather had promised your hand in marriage to a strange inhuman being from the swamps, you nearly drowned yesterday, and the people from the village you had grown up with, wanted you gone because bad things happened around you. Maybe they were right and you were cursed.

Maybe you were cursed not like in the old tales but as simple as an unlucky charm, drawing the worst lot out for everyone including yourself.

You buried your face in your hands, allowing yourself an honest moment to cry.

A knock on the door made you jolt back up again, jumping away from the door and staring at the tarnished knob

You listened.

Another knock.

“Go away!” you cried, hoping that König or whoever from the village had come to your house, would just leave.

Another knock.

Groaning, you got up and ripped open the door while reaching for the broom next to the door.

“I said go away!” you cried again, ready to swing the broom at whoever harassed you, before stopping in your tracks, the door bouncing slightly against the wall.

A heron stood before your door, next to the pile of fish.

“Huh?”

The bird looked at you before looking back at the pile of fish.

Confused, you raised the broom to shoo away the bird.

“Shoo! Shoo! Go away!”

It danced a few steps back before returning to its spot and looking from you to the fish and back again.

You grimaced, shivering in only your chemise in the early morning breeze.

“Listen, heron, if you want a fish, just take some. They are not mine!” you tried, feeling out of your debts. Why were you even trying to talk to an animal?

Naturally, the bird said nothing.

“Of course,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to the bird, as you turned to close the door.

The bird rattled, as if laughing.

“Girl,” it cackled, and you froze in horror at the sound of the speaking bird, “I’m not eating the fish the king caught you. He tasked me to make sure you eat them. ‘My bride is so light to carry,’ he said. ‘Make her eat some fish,’ he said.”

Horrified, you kept staring at the bird.

“Take the fish!” it cried, “Don’t make me wait on you, girl.”

You blinked in surprise at the slightly annoyed heron.

“R-right. Sorry,” you mumbled before remembering your grandfather’s tales and warning about speaking animals. Bowing slightly to the bird, “Can I get you something in return for looking out for me, master heron?”

Another rattle from the bird.

“You can leave me a chalice out in the garden with some of the fish you are going to cut. It would be much appreciated.”

“Will do.” You bowed again before putting down the broom and quickly grabbing a big bowl to collect the fish.

As you returned to get the fish, you were alone. The heron was gone. Alone in the garden, you picked up the fresh trout and one big carp from the ground, feeling the heavy weight of watching eyes on you.

You kept inside the house as much as you could for the rest of the morning, only leaving to get firewood and water to wash and cook the fish. The thought of having more eyes watching you made your stomach turn. And having to face one of the same villagers who thought you cursed? The thought alone sealed your convictions to keep to yourself. You traced the wooden chopping board before sliding your fingers over the used counter. Home, it was all home, even the slightest dent felt like it belonged there just like you belonged with this house.

You let yourself fall onto one of the chairs, taking a break.

Why did I take the fish?

You could not help but wonder why you had allowed a bird to intimidate you so much before getting up and filling a chalice with a bit of fish for the heron as promised.

Because it spoke and birds don’t speak.

You grimaced to yourself as you placed the chalice onto the windowsill. Better not test your luck with speaking animals.

The fish König got you was fatty, fresh, and delicious.

You could not help feeling slightly grateful for the food. Maybe König was not as bad as you had assumed, and he did not want you any harm.

Maybe-

You froze at the thought of König feeding and fattening you up only to eat you once it fit him. The memory of one of many of your grandfather's tales rose up in your mind, like the pieces of fish rose up in the cooking broth.

“Open up, Wench!”

You flinched under the harsh words as someone knocked against the wooden door.

“Open up!”It was Ivar. Back in the days, he had been a friend to your father. Now, he was the first to terrorize you as the cursed girl.

“What do you want, Ivar?” you called through the closed door while stepping closer, clutching the broom again. It was better to ask before letting the mob leader in. And it was better to be armed with a broom than regretting not to.

“What do you want, wench?” he shouted, “I told you to leave yesterday. Yet, here you are! Nobody wants you here, bitch!”

Bile rose in your throat. It was bitter to discover the people you had grown up with turned against you so easily.

“This is my home, Ivar!”

He snorted dismissively, “This was your grandfather’s home - an honorable man. And you cursed and killed him, just like you killed all the others! I am not waiting for you to kill the rest of the village!”

“I have not killed anyone!” you cried. Fear, sadness, and anger – a lot of anger – tinting your voice.

“Don’t lie to me, witch!” Ivar spat, “You killed them! You killed them all. And now all that is left is you in this once honorable house. Leave or I’ll make you!”

You flinched.

“This is my home,”you whispered before raising your voice, “This is my home, Ivar! I’ll never leave!”

Cold and hot shivers washed over you as you felt tears well up in your eyes.

“Ha! You are a woman!” Ivar retorted with spite, “Only men can own land. You are so vile that no one even wanted to marry you for your family’s land. You are cursed! Leave before you kill us all!”

Hot tears spilled over your face.

Anger boiled in your stomach. But sadness kept you from shouting back at Ivar, sadness, and betrayal. It was as if Ivar did not need to drag you from your own home to punch all fight out of your body. With shaky hands you gripped the broom, trying to calm your agitated breath.

“Why would anyone marry for land?” a different voice asked.

Your eyes widened in recognition.

König.

“Now, marrying for water that I would understand,” König mused, “but land?”

A confused pause transfused through the wood door to you.

“Are you an idiot?” Ivar finally asked angrily, “Who are you, stranger?”

“König. The question is rather who are you to shout at my fiancé, little man?”

Another powerful pause before Ivar broke with a loud and dismissing, “What? You are lying!”

This was it, you realized, this was your chance of getting rid of Ivar and the villagers.

With a swing, you opened the door, wiping away your tears.

Ivar nearly filled out the door frame, but König easily loomed over Ivar, standing a couple of steps away in the garden. He stared down with an amused smile, cold blue eyes transfixed on the smaller man.

“No, he is not,” you declared while pushing your way past Ivar and stepped close to König, “This is König, my fiancé. Leave us alone, Ivar.”

“As if anyone would marry the cursed girl,” Ivar remarked despairingly.

“A curse?” König peeped curiously while slightly leaning into the space between you and Ivar.

You shifted around uncomfortably. “They say I am cursed because my family died, König.”

He turned his head and eyed you for a moment. You returned his curious gaze, he looked different now – human.

 “Intriguing. I’m a truly lucky man.”

“Are you insane?” Ivar gasped.

A quick smile flashed over König’s face.

“Insane?” he asked with a friendly tone that indicated entirely not friendly intentions, while stalking closer to Ivar, “Tell me – Ivar, right? Tell me Ivar, is it smart to harass the girl that you say is so cursed, she brings death to anyone close? Yet, you can’t get enough of yelling at her from as close as possible?”

Another step closer.

“Or, tell me, is it smart to anger the stranger who is willing to marry this cursed girl? Am I not the dead-man-walking then who has nothing to lose according to you?”

He straightened up, towering massively and glaring down at Ivar. You couldn’t pry your eyes from König, large and imposing, silent as a whisper as he unfolded the foolishness of Ivar’s so-called reasoning. 

“Or is my fiancé not cursed and you have no reason to be here, making you nothing but a petty man preying on those he can target easily? Uh, Ivar, tell me? What will it be?”

Another quick smile danced over König’s face, dangerous, entirely inhuman.

You shivered.

Ivar, feet still firmly planted, had leaned his shoulders from König, trying to create distance, and in his attempts, shifted around slightly, before looking around and finally, to the ground.

“This is not over, Good day,” Ivar mumbled and stepped away before turning around and walking out of the garden.

You both stayed and watched him trott off until he vanished between the trees and bushes, breathing a slow exhale once out of sight.

“What kind of curse is it?”

You turned your head, facing König.

“I’m sorry?”

“What kind of curse is it?” He repeated, “is it by a witch or by another human or something else? And how does it work?”

“I don’t know?”, you huffed, stepping away and crossing your arms before you defensively while fighting the incoming tears. “I am not cursed. I think. I hope. It’s only what Ivar says to make me leave the village. He wants my family’s fields and my home. It could be nothing but a convenient lie.”

“How disappointing.”

You blinked in surprise. Disappointing?

“You would have preferred me to have a curse, König?”

He shrugged, “I certainly wouldn’t have minded it. How dangerous can a little human curse be after all? And it could be practical to have curses to keep annoying men like Ivar away, don’t you think?”

You considered his words. It’s not like you wanted to believe him, but the thought of keeping anyone away with a curse - real or not - felt more comforting than you would have wanted to admit.

“Maybe,” you conceded, “But I would prefer not to be cursed, or have Ivar show up at my doorstep claiming that I am.”

“Do not worry about Ivar anymore, my bride,” König said before turning to the house. “I smell fish cooking. Is that the fish I got you?”

Your head whipped around. The Soup!

“Oh no, I forgot it!”you cried before running back to the house and to the fire. Quickly, you grabbed a rag before taking the hot iron pod to move it off the hot flames. It smelled fine, not too burned. Yet, the bottom of the pot felt like it had started to burn slightly as you stirred and tasted the meal.

At least one good thing today, you thought to yourself while taking a deep breath.

A little knock on the door made you look up. König standing in the door frame, looking all green and tangled again like you remembered from the pond. Briefly, you wondered how he did that.

“Everything alright?” He asked, peeking into the house, his skin shimmering like water reflecting sunlight before appearing nearly human again.

“Uhm,” you tilted your head and looked away, “It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

He eyed you silently, clearly not believing you before finally mumbling, “Alright, you are as good of a liar as an otter. Don’t worry, my bride, I’ll have the heron watch your house in case Ivar returns.”

“Oh, so that’s how you knew he was here,” you stated dejectedly. Even the bird was watching. Was there any way to escape all this with so many eyes on you?

He grumbled before stalking into the room.

With a shriek you stepped back but he was before you, bowing down to you.

Terrified, you froze in your spot.

“Don’t worry, bride,” he said, “I may not know much about your human customs. But, I know that I am expected to keep you safe. No harm will befall you anymore.”

You stared up at him.

Blue, watery eyes you did not understand. Eyes, so profound. You felt like falling into deep waters. As you stared, it recalled the calming waters of the swamp, the gentle sway of laping rivers. Waters that carried the same oaths and secrets and security you were almost granted the day before as you stared and stared and stared-

He blinked and smiled, his eyes suddenly just blue eyes, the profane dissipating like fog in the bogland.

You gasped for air, suddenly feeling your lungs constricted and your skin going cold and damp.

“I’m glad you want to marry me,” he said and straightened up again, “I worried that I might have scared you yesterday. But you called me your fiance, so you must not fear me.”

He chuckled darkly while drawing your form into a hug.

“Ivar on the other hand, has plenty to fear now after picking a fight with the king of under the water.”

[konigsblog]

I haven't seen Eldritch König in a while. Any thoughts on how would it be to raise children with him? Don't feel pressured I'm just curious about this one

I know he would be already planning more because he loves to breed her

god, i miss writing eldricth-könig !! :'3

(i also recommend @gremlingottoosilly if you enjoy monster-könig 🐙)

cw: forced pregnancy, hybrids.

i absolutely believe könig would be incredibly possessive with you whilst pregnant :( you don't focus on the children nearly as much as he does, causing him to hiss and growl at anyone - sometimes even you - for getting too close whilst he's holding them.

eldritch-könig holds them like they're the tiniest things ever, whilst they're already growing rapidly, being absolutely huge babies. könig coos at them, coddling his beautiful offspring and playing with their tentacles while you're forced to breastfeed, putting on a fake smile as you're forced to love and care for them – the babies you don't want anything to do with! but, he thinks they're the best things on earth, second place to you, his forced and captured wife.

he feels bad that you're forced onto the island, chained there whilst he goes into the ocean. sometimes, other sea gods and creatures may come close to könig's pregnant captive out of curiosity, and he will scream at them to leave his pregnant wife alone, making them despise him for being so overprotective...

when your stomach is swollen and big, he doesn't want anyone, aside from him touching you. your stomach wriggles, the babies inside your stomach beginning to shift and move abruptly, large and growing fastly. he'll take great care of you, and will be frustrated when you reject them out of fear, wanting nothing to do with the abominations.

he'll sob to you – crocodile tears – trying to get you to feel sympathy for your hungry, sobbing sons. :( just let them latch on and feed them, their teeth may be sharp, but that's because you're a mortal, and he's immortal...

what you don't realise, is that, when a immortal fucks a mortal, they become immortal as well... an eternity of hell and forced pregnancy for poor, poor you!!

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Kinktober 2023 Day Twenty Two

Tentacles

Kim 'Horangi' Hong-jin x König

It had taken Horangi months to even get König to acknowledge him. He couldn’t explain it, but ever since his first day working with KorTac, when he’d met König for the first time, he desperately wanted to get his attention. For months, he’d said hello to him whenever they passed by each other, he always waved to König when he arrived at the gym for training, but König had ignored him every time. He turned away when Horangi waved, always stood at the other end of any squad line up, sat on the seat furthest away from him in the helo.

Pretty much everyone had told Horangi to not bother, to stop what he was doing, because König never paid mind to anyone. When he didn’t, and kept doing it, they started saying he was nuts too, behind his back, like they did for König. 

He proved them all wrong when König did start paying attention to him.

König finally let his curiosity get the better of him. Who was Horangi, beyond the sparse information in his file? Why was he so set on getting König’s attention, going so far as starting to do nice little things for him like ‘accidentally’ grabbing extra flares so König didn’t have to make the six steps across the room to the box of them himself. König let his gaze linger on Horangi when he waved, he would nod in response to his greetings. He even started standing next to him, and making one too many bundles of cord when he was packing his gear, so Horangi may as well have it, since it was there. 

Even with that, there was still something Horangi couldn’t crack about König. Why had this guy attracted him so much, why some random guy who he’d never seen without his hood? A guy, not too unlike himself, Horangi realised one day as he scoffed down his food in his room before replacing his mask. König never ate in front of anyone either. 

Horangi’s mask had become like a second skin to him over the years, because he really needed to stay hidden, especially in a world full of mercenaries for hire. Maybe it was the same for König. 

He found out that it was not in the slightest bit the same on his next mission with König. 

König had gone ahead alone, and gotten tangled with a squad of soldiers. Some ass among them had managed to grab König’s mask as he had dealt with him, and torn the front of it off. Horangi had caught up to König, finding him with his back turned. He approached König worried that he was hurt, only for König to slam him back into the wall, startled, and showing Horangi exactly why it was necessary for König’s mask to be a hood. 

A snarling mass of tentacles filled Horangi’s vision. As König realised who he was holding, they relaxed, along with his grip on Horangi’s arms as he stared at him, afraid that the one fucker who had taken a liking to him, would leave him now too. 

Instead, Horangi had reached for the pocket on König’s vest where he kept his spare mask and held it up to him. He knew which one, because he’d watched König pack his gear a hundred times. König took it, and let Horangi cover the corridor as he switched it with the ruined one, without a word exchanged between them. 

Horangi stuck by König’s side for the entire rest of the mission, through the ride back and team debrief, and was still trailing after him now as König walked back through base to his room. He stayed a few steps behind König, unsure of how to check if König wanted him there, but got his answer when König left his door ajar. He shut it behind him when he entered König’s room, staring as König pulled his hood off, turning to look at Horangi. He pulled his own mask off too, and approached König, leaning up to kiss one of the tentacles. 

In that moment, a voice flashed in his mind. “What do you want?”

“You. This, inside me.” Horangi replied aloud. 

König’s eyes widened and Horangi knew he was gone. König wasted no time and stuffed one down Horangi’s throat, catching him when he sagged into the taller man's arms. He was in inexplicable heaven, and on top of that, he could hear König speak now. 

It was all a mess of questions and answers, as König taught Horangi that when they were talking like this, he didn’t need to speak aloud, he could just think, and König would hear him. 

Horangi had panicked, as did that mean König could hear and see all of the things he wanted him to do to him? 

Yes, König could. And, he delivered. 

He had Horangi hang onto the bookcase as he pushed his tentacles into Horangi’s ass, Horangi’s mouth opening with a shameless moan as König pushed a second one in, sorting through Horangi’s muddled thoughts for him. He understood in an instant what Horangi liked, what he wanted, and pushed the tentacles apart in different directions inside Horangi’s ass, making the man whimper, barely able to hold it together because of how König was talking about him. 

How much he loved the glimpses of Horangi’s tattoos that he’d seen, how he could understood why Horangi has to hide his face, but it was a shame, since it was so damn handsome, mixing scraps of German that Horangi somehow instantly understood, even though he didn’t know any German at all, and König was picking up scraps of Korean, too, throwing it at Horangi from his own thoughts. 

Horangi gasped when König pushed a third tentacle into him. There must be something more going on here, he was stretched out more than he’d ever been before, surely it should be hurting by now…

There is something, König replied to the thought. It’s me. I’m helping you take this, but I can stop if you want that pain. If you want to cum soon, as it stops that too.

Horangi’s eyes snapped closed as he thought about how König could just choose to tease him for ours, all day, if he wanted, without even thinking about letting Horangi cum before König was ready to… but that was an idea for another day, and he would very much like to cum now, please. 

König relented, drawing back his power from Horangi and enjoying how Horangi squeezed around him, barely maintaining his hold on the shelves as he came. König caught him when he started to fall, snuggling him close to keep his tentacles on Horangi’s skin, so he could hear his thoughts, and know that he was okay, just very happy and a little shaky from cumming hard, and would appreciate a little bit of cuddling right now.

[sleep-0-deprived]

what fandoms do you write for?

I have no specific fandoms that I don’t write for plus I’m in to many to list so please just send any requests :D

[diejager]

Eldritch

He was a monster in the flesh, power and magic cursed into his body, he was a beast in the skin of man hidden under the drobe of a military man and a veil. Under the facade of an anxious yet powerfully ranked operator, he was power incarnate, a creature of darkness and menace. Under the haze of anger or hunger, his ice - the palest you’d ever seen - blue eyes turned red, a bright crimson that mimicked blood in the dark ended shroud of his sclera. Under his protective veil were long, moist and strong limbs, tentacles tipped with sensitive suckers that attached to everything they touched.

He was big and strong, his palms he size of your face when he gaze down at you, his imposing and ever hungry gleam stuck on your figure, naked and tied to the headboard. You were at his mercy in and outside your shared room. He hungered like a famished wolf, crazed eyes and devouring touch, wandering the scarred expanse of your chest, rough calloused fingers pulling at your swollen nubs.

He could be gentle and loving, a romantic lover, if he wanted, but he was hungry, caresses hurried, hold tight and thrusts rough. He growled into your ear, whispering the filthiest slurs on earth and over when he plowed into you. His tentacles held your face, curling around your throat, threatening to tighten his hold and deprive you of air; and you simply bared yourself, body oozing of thrust and respect for the man you loved.

The slick texture of his tentacles made you shiver, the trails of mucus he left of you with agile and purposeful motion. He liked the warmth of your mouth, lips closing around a muscle or two that writhed inside of you while your tongue flicked over the sensitive suckers. They twitched and latched onto your tongue, curling around it and thrusting into the back of your throat. You gagged but never complained, he loved it, so let him do it.

Although his gaze was animalistic, feral to the point of derangement, he looked at you with adoration, love and amazement that you could love a being like him. It warmed his heart through the roughness of his hips, rocking and rolling them until you gasped and mewled around his tentacle, until your hole tightened around him in a vice, clinging onto the edge of your pleasure.

He was hungry and feral, but he always put you first, you were his priority in every aspect of his immortal life, the human he would want to form an unbreakable bond that would transcend time and space itself. König, the king of kings, gave you his heart as you gave yours to him, a fair exchange made under his and your team’s watchful gaze.

[pixielover1]

Wild Flowers.

Part one. Part two. Part three.

Monster!König x Reader.

The sun illuminated the quiet hillside like a stunning oil painting. You stirred awake as the beams of light slipped past your thin curtains. Yawning, you sat up in your bed. Waking up early was exciting today because it was finally time to harvest your crops. You quickly put on a floral sundress and a pair of sandals. Pulling on your gardening hat, you practically skipped outside, moving to the back of your quaint cabin. The wind nipped at your skin but the sun shooed it away with its warm rays. Your chest rose slowly as you took in a deep breath of the crisp morning air. You redirected your attention to the flourishing plants and a smile snuck onto your face.

You carefully tended to your crops, clipping off ripe fruits and veggies as you leaned over your developed plot. Gentle, melodic hums escaped your mouth as you tossed the produce into your woven basket, the birds singing with you. It was such a beautiful morning, but to König, you were the most beautiful.

In the camouflage of the woods he watched you through the foliage, panting. The sound of your soft music gave him goosebumps, his furred tail whacking against poor trees that concealed him. König was a victim of secret experiments when he was in the military. The underground organization subjected him to a series of operations, changing his DNA in a remarkable scientific feat. But what was supposed to be dog-like enhancements for battle, resulted in an uncontrollable lycan. König tore through the illegal facility shortly after he was deemed “ready” to be a weapon. Since that day he roamed the mountain side, hunting like an average wolf. Nothing resembling benignity was inside him, he was simply a wild beast. Until he found you. Humanity struck him the first time he spotted you foraging in the woods. In that moment his heart began to beat again, for you. Since then, he’s been keeping a watchful eye on you. Your life is peaceful and he likes to believe he is the cause of it.

Your focus on your activity was light until you heard a loud hiss. Startled, you look down to see an aggravated snake. You jump to your feet and wearily create space between you and the reptile. There was no way you were going to pick the thing up, but you also couldn't leave it here to eat your plants or mess up the roots. You kept your eyes on the snake until a shadow was casted upon you. From your left, a large hand comes down to grab the rowdy snake. It’s thrown deep into the woods and the threat is diminished. A small ping of relief fills in you until you realize. What the fuck just grabbed the snake?

Your neck cranes up to see a drooling König, his chest heaving. Your heart drops and you’re stuck in place. König stands at a firm 6'10”, dwarfing anyone's height. Wolf-like ears stick out from his short hair that was tangled with twigs and dirt. He wore a battered t-shirt, stained with what you believed to be blood and soil. He looked terrifying even as his tail swung behind him through his ripped up pants. He was delighted to finally be face to face with you. The way your face was illuminated as a gorgeous golden brown by the sun made his heart flutter like never before, even if you were also cowering in fear.

Your legs twitch as if begging you to run. So just then, you did. You turn and bolt into the forest, running faster than you knew you could. The beast was hot on your heels, easily catching up to your sprint. You kept up for as long as you could before your face harshly met the rough soil. König lingered above you, keeping your body pinned to the ground. Helpless whines escape your mouth as you assume this is your death day. You can hear his deep, shaky breaths as his body covers yours. At your side you catch a view of his huge hands and murderous claws. Your breath hitches and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the fatal blow. But it never came. Instead, König lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Filled with a burst of bravery, you beat on his back and screamed at him to let you go. Opening your eyes, you gulp as you see how high up you were from the woods’ floor. He carried you back to your cottage quickly, not responding to any of your protests. He followed your scent as he pushed your front door open, accidentally breaking a hinge. He gently places you on your bed, the action a stark contrast to his appearance. He stands at the foot of your bed and you notice how he barely fits into your house. He has to bend his neck to keep his head from hitting your ceiling.

When he catches the shimmer of your sweet tears, something wakes within him. Feelings along the lines of sympathy and lust. His eyes reflect what he is feeling too easily, he is truly an open book. You remain on your bed, trembling from being subject to his gaze that is desperately trying to undress you. The silence breaks when his hand twitches, reaching towards you. You whimper, still assuming the worst. As much as he enjoys the tempting sounds, he knows he doesn’t want you to feel this way. His large fur-covered frame lets out a low growl and with the same speed he used to catch you moments before, he leaves your house. The sun was still kind and warm as you were left breathless and stunned from the freakish encounter.

Hello! This is my first story, i hope you enjoy. I am open to constructive criticism. :)

[marblepastas]

I should start writing huh?

Yea I will. :3 see y’all soon I gotta learn how to make my stuff pretty

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Theseus is dead. You’re escorting the Minotaur, more beast than a man, out of the Labyrinth. The problem is, he seems to be more interested in what’s between your legs than in his mission of killing the notorious king of Crete… (12 k. Minotaur is not an actual hybrid in this fic. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Part 1 here.) Tags/warnings: Shameless smut mdni, dubious consent, extremely possessive behaviour, abduction, first time (König & reader are both virgins), hugs & cuddles, washing blood off your monster boyfriend, awkward flirting, semi-rough sex, shifting power dynamics, sexist insults & slurs (the citizens of Crete do not approve of your choices), implied cannibalism, fluffy ending. Mythical AU.

The candle goes out before you reach the surface.

To someone else, it would be the end of the world: to you, it’s only a hindrance, a nuisance, mostly. 

You’re not easily distressed. If you were, you wouldn’t be in the service of the greatest goddess of the Underworld. And you’re not mourning losing the sight of your warmly illuminated beast... You’re only worried about what he will do once the darkness descends. Whether he will forget about his vow, whether the baser instincts take over him once the darkness falls.

And darkness is not capable of making you lost: you can always follow the string in your hand. But without light, it’s difficult to predict the Bull’s moves: whether he decides to maim or fuck you against the wall, you can never tell. He hasn’t lived in the real world among people; he doesn’t know what’s right or wrong and what’s expected of him. Even the best of men can succumb to the demands of the flesh, so what power would a Bull Man have against his animal wants? No one ever taught him to respect the gods, let alone the maidens who serve them...

Then again, if a simple candle was the only thing that kept you alive, then what’s the point of lamenting the loss of it? Your life was already forfeit when you chose to descend here.

So you let it go: as always, the greatest lesson in life is to simply let go. Of control, of judgment, of fear, of hope. 

He doesn’t say a thing when the light flickers, then fades. The candle goes out in silence, and you let it drop before the remaining wax burns your palm.

And it’s not the absence of light, but strength, that forces you on your knees before even an hour has passed. There’s still a long way to go, and the yarn is like a thin string of hope in your hand, but you’re too exhausted, too worn out, too hungry and too tired to go on.

The Bull Man doesn’t object to your suggestion to lay down and sleep for a while. He has walked behind you in silence the whole day. Or night… You can’t tell the difference; you lost count somewhere along the way down here. The air is stale and humid, and there’s no torch, not a single candle anywhere and even if there were, you wouldn’t do anything with them without a flint. 

The horror is kept at bay only through your numerous exercises with the goddess who introduced you to darkness many, many moons ago. You were initiated during the dark Moon, the new Moon, the blood Moon, introduced to the mysteries of the maiden, mother and crone, to the secrets of both the living and the dead. You’re not afraid, but your body still warns you of danger: you just don’t know if it’s a memory from childhood or a reaction to the Bull, panting behind you – out of lust or exertion, you don’t even know. Someone who wasn’t a maiden probably could tell… At times, you curse the fact that there hasn’t been a single phallus inside you because men too possess knowledge. Taking a man into your bed would have initiated you to a different set of mysteries, but now, you are poking blind. 

The Bull Man is an animal, you remind yourself. The longer you stay in his company, the more he starts to resemble a human, even if he is a man of few words. How he even remembers them is another mystery: you thought he was sent down here as a young boy. He speaks oddly but eloquently, a remnant of his noble descent, perhaps. Or perhaps he has listened to the people speaking in the Labyrinth, eavesdropped his victims an hour or two before killing them. Whatever the reason, you have to constantly tie your tongue because there’s simply no point in talking to a beast. The less you know about him and his past, the better.

You ready yourself for sleep, but the cursed cold of the tunnels keeps your body awake. Your flesh is human even if your mind is forged to withstand hunger, thirst and pain. Endurance against cold was never your strong suit, and you miss the heat of the sun, the warmth of it on your skin, even the ample light it gives. You, a lover of the moon, missing the heat of Apollo… It’s a joke, surely.

On the stone floor, it’s even colder, the rough, damp ground making your very bones ache. How on Hecate’s name has the beast survived this place?

“Bull Man,” you speak into the darkness, thick like an impenetrable wall and thin like a virgin’s veil.

“Maiden,” he echoes with a dark, low growl, slightly amused by the name you’ve selected for him.

“Are you cold?” You whisper.

Perhaps he doesn’t quite understand the question or why you asked it. It doesn’t matter: you have to swallow your pride and ask for his help if you’re going to survive this dark prison.

“I don’t get cold,” he finally responds.

“Good. I need your heat.” 

The silence drags on, and you fear he has misunderstood you again, but then he speaks again, with the same slightly amused tone as before.

“Come take it.”

You’re not sure if you’ve completely lost your mind, crawling to him through the uneven floor of the Labyrinth. Who knows what he will do to you once he gets those arms of iron around you? You’re placing your maidenhood, your whole body at his mercy. And you’re not even sure if it’s a he, if this thing is human at all. 

Human or animal, your hand meets the bull’s head on the way to him. He has taken it off, then... It’s not a part of him, just like you suspected. Maybe he is just a giant, daunting man, born from whatever forbidden desire Pasiphae had. Who knows if she only went to a foreign lover’s arms when her husband was at war? Who knows if King Minos has trouble getting his phallus up… These things happen: women get pregnant from their lovers, they do desperate things to pacify their husbands. And you don’t need a bull to get yourself an heir...

You feel his heat before you feel his skin: the Minotaur is verily blazing. He has gotten used to the cold, it seems, his body like a small bonfire in the clammy tunnel. 

“Cold little female,” he comments when you snuggle towards him shyly, thoroughly aware of the uninviting chill of your body. 

You settle next to him, every muscle in your body tight like a bowstring, your breaths shallow when he gives you a welcoming rumble. Goosebumps prickle across your skin and your throat goes dry, the thick swallow in the tunnel echoing around you like a thief.

Arms like iron go around you, and his body is taut, just like yours, but for a whole different reason entirely. He’s not afraid or nervous; he’s just… big. Pure muscle, his whole body thick, the stock and heat of him remind you of the sun. A miniature sun down here in these dark tunnels, but while you start to slowly soften in his arms, a different threat is already emerging. It doesn’t take long before his cock stiffens against you, and with the scarce clothing you both have, you can feel its every excited twitch.

Artemis… Protect me from this beast. Turn him into a dog if he tries to penetrate me. Let him rip my throat instead… 

You’ve never prayed to the Virgin Goddess; you don’t know if she can even hear you from down here. But Hecate would only laugh if this Bull decided to breed you. No mercy would arrive from that direction: she would either send a disease of blisters upon the Minotaur for touching her chosen or then she would cackle like an old woman, thousand times raped.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hoping your kindness will distract him from what’s happening downstairs.

“My pleasure,” he grumbles, mimicking the words he probably heard as a child in his father’s great hall. 

It sends a chill down your spine and butterflies into your heart to hear him speak like a polite man of court. And again, you think of asking him about his childhood... His mother, his father, the things he remembers from the surface. How he survived here without water, if there are underground springs here somewhere. Whether he eats humans like they say... If he ever embraced the dead women he killed. 

“Can you do it again,” he rumbles against you, cutting you away from your grotesque thoughts.

“...Do what again?” 

“Touch me… With your hand.”

His words are blunt now, his speech clumsy. But the way he says it is not an order. It’s an odd beg, more like. Laced with hope and wishes far away from greed. This Bull is never greedy, per se… He’s just lacking. Starved, for so many things that you fear there’s not enough time nor kindness to give him what he needs.

Your pulse flutters when you slowly lift your hand and caress the strong cords of muscle that make his neck. The rumbling returns; it turns into a low purr as the beast relaxes under your touch. Something softens inside you when he sighs from relief. His unbridled happiness tugs at your heart, trying to yank open something forbidden. It’s the softest violation you’ve ever felt: to be held by a giant killer having a roaring erection, while the said killer clearly enjoys your caress like it’s the touch of Aphrodite herself…

You even stroke his face. His jaw, unclenching under your touch; his cheek, covered with what you suppose is simply a wild, overgrown beard. 

“Your hand,” he groans softly, “makes me sleepy and warm…”

The cold, uncaring goddess recedes. The burdens of past, present and future dissolve. Softness takes place in your heart; the iron locks give in like brittle brass. A smile plays on your lips as you continue to pet him softly, lulling you both to sleep with your voice.

“Then sleep, Bull of Crete...”

…

You wake up to his cock pressing against you.

Not against your stomach like when you went to sleep – that you could do with – but against your cunt, barely veiled by the thin linen of your dress.

The panic is soon wrestled down with reason: you tell yourself it’s just a cock. It’s just him. You’re simply in the Minotaur’s arms, and he’s sound asleep still; there’s no reason to buck and jerk and scream. 

The darkness feels like a safe womb now, but with nothing to lock your gaze to, you have to take a moment to ground yourself into reality. And the first thing you ground into is a thick cockhead, pressing fast into your nether lips. He’s practically at the gates, and you’re lucky he’s still asleep.

It’s perhaps your fault this happened in the first place: you notice you’ve dragged your thigh over his hip; as if wanting him to fuck you in your sleep… You embrace him like Helen of Troy, and he holds you through his sleep like a man in love, perfectly content with napping on the cold ground with you.

“Mm…” The beast stirs, probably noticing how the female in his arms is tense as a rod. “You smell like you want to fuck…”

“No I don’t,” you hurry to whisper.

Gods curse this man’s ability to smell everything from miles away. Blood and humans and, apparently, a woman at her most receptive. 

What if he can actually smell the wetness between your legs?

“We need to go,” you slowly remove your leg from on top of his waist, hoping it would go unnoticed that you were clutching him like a lover. You have no such luck: he grabs your thigh and draws it back, sets it safe and snug around his waist while adjusting his grip on you, now hugging you entirely like a lover would.

“I want to mate with you,” he says softly. “You want to mate too. Why go?”

He sounds so adorable when he’s still in the process of waking up to a new day. Drowsy and sweet, voice husky from sleep, body warm as can be, the hard-on between his legs happy and stiff.

“I thought you wanted to kill the king,” you try to point out. 

“This is more important,” he gruffs. “Urgent.”

The cock pushes further up and against you, now spreading your folds under the dress, trying to penetrate into your heat. Your eyes go wide as thick need pools down to meet his greed. His body, his cock makes your head go dull for a moment; you feel like you’re not even capable of thinking actual thoughts.

“No, it’s not. We need to get up.”

You stiffen in his arms, push yourself away, and to your surprise, he actually lets you go. Reluctantly and with a hollow grunt, but he lets you go. 

You rise with a wobble, and adjust your dress, your head spinning from his advances. You swear he becomes more man-like every day, every passing hour, even. Or is it just you who’s changing…? 

The Bull Man is up before you get to ponder on that thought for too long. Your heart and head struggle to find their footing for a moment, your legs are so weak you feel like fainting. He catches you before you fall, the warm, thick arms closing around you with stout affection.

“You need more heat?” He asks softly.

You look up out of habit, even if you can't see his eyes, covered by the carcass again because his voice is muffled.

“No… I’m hungry.”

He’s silent for a moment, probably thinking what he could do to help the situation. You fear he will suggest you go back to visit his “pantry” and eat whatever horrible, half-rotten man-flesh he might have in store there, but he only holds you close to prevent you from sliding back to the ground.

“Hmm. No mice up here,” he ponders. 

“You eat mice…?”

“Sometimes.”

You leave it at that: you don’t want to know what he’s had to do to sustain himself down here. You don’t even have a fire to cook the vermin, even if you would be ready to eat even those after another day or two without food. 

“Not a long way up,” he says. “We will reach the sun soon. Then I’ll find you something to eat.”

“How do you know that…?”

“The air smells different.”

You sigh and search for the string, your lifeline to the outside world. You can’t wait to get out of here, and with both hurry and an odd dread, you hike for what seems like another whole day. Tension, hunger and thirst distort your thoughts, and you’re sure by now that the time flows differently here in the Underworld. With no small amount of pride, you feel accomplished to have survived this place so far. Even gods have had to do some tricks to escape the nether worlds: it is no small feat to charm the Minotaur and then walk out of here unharmed. 

To your knowledge, you’re the only one who has ever escaped the Labyrinth. You haven’t even had time to think about what you will unleash with you… The demon that walks on your heels will take his revenge, not only on the king but on the city who threw him here. 

Well. It’s their problem now. Minos and Pasiphae simply have to deal with their successor. The world will simply have to deal with the Underworld’s wrath. 

And oh, how Hecate would laugh if she saw this monster prince of Crete escape his prison because of you – the feared Minotaur set free, only because he’s mesmerized by a woman. You suspect he would have his cock jumping for any girl, though. It's not because you're an exceptional sorceress that he follows you: it's your cunt he's after. And it shouldn’t make you feel jealous that he probably gets distracted the moment he sees a better offer walk by.

But it does. In your darkest wishes, you would keep the Bull Man all to yourself. Get him a leash, perhaps... Feed him with your own hands and let him grope you in the dark, watch him go wild from lust when you finally give him access to your cunt. 

Many would hardly think you’re a virgin if they took a peek inside your head. But the things you’ve seen and done, the white bulls you’ve slaughtered for the dark Goddess, adorning them with cypress wreaths before slashing their throats open, would turn any woman bleak and twisted like this. For once, you would like to save the bull from slaughter.

When you see the first evidence of light, your body lets out a sigh it has been holding ever since you arrived here. Seeing the sun gives you more strength than any food or meal, and you pick up your pace while the Minotaur behind you begins to hesitate. 

“It’s too bright,” he says before you’ve even walked out of the tunnel, now turning into a vast cave, the entrance to the Labyrinth. 

You turn around to look and stop in your tracks when you see the fear in his eyes is acute. It’s mixed with wonder, the curiosity wrestling away doubt slowly but surely. He only needs a little nudge, a gentle pull, an enticing little smile and eyes that he can trust.

“You’ll get used to it soon,” you extend your hand. 

He takes a step, then another, then another, until he reaches your outstretched fingers, and hand in hand you walk out of the Labyrinth and into the bright morning sun, burning over the kingdom of Crete.

He’s only a breath away from panicking, but covers it well. You wonder if it’s truly the light that’s too bright or if the feeling of being so exposed is what makes him so afraid. Clearly, the vast space opening up before him is intimidating. 

There are grassy plains as far as the eye can see, little hills that dot the horizon, and skies so expansive and bright it must hurt his eyes. Goats are grazing under the sun, trees are bending in the wind, the rustling of leaves and the sound of birds calling him to look in all directions as he tries to make some sense of his surroundings.

“It’s alright,” you give his palm a soft squeeze, and the way he looks there under the sun, so big and powerful and able, and still so utterly lost, is giving you heartache you haven’t known since you were a child.

“There’s… so many colours,” he says, looking at the blue summer sky, the deep olive greens, the dirty whiteness of the goats, the flowers upon the grass. A butterfly, flying past, yellow like the citrus that people harvest from a few miles from here. A big blackbird with an orange beak, swooping down to catch a cricket, the slate grey pigeons flying so close to the sun that he has to shield his eyes even if they’re already safe and sheltered under the bull head.

Seeing his wonder and awe makes you look at the scenery so differently that it burns, it actually hurts: there’s so much beauty in the world, and you have always taken it for granted. Cursed the rain and the storms, cursed the droughts, cursed the gods for sending down another famine, when in truth, the world was filled with abundance, of colours, of life and joy… And all you’ve done is worship darkness. Now the darkness is out: it’s standing next to you, watching the view of your mundane everyday life like it’s nothing short of a miracle.

And when you turn back to look at him again, his eyes are upon you.

“What?” You ask, freshly caught in your moment of weakness.

“You are pretty,” he says, eyes wrinkling with delight under the mask. 

Gods damn him… 

He doesn’t know that human men don’t act like this, talk like this, or if they do, there’s usually something vile involved behind it all. He doesn’t know how to play games, he was never introduced to the lies and deceit of the world.

The Bull of Crete only looks at you with soft fondness in his stare – he doesn’t understand that he should cover that softness as well if he intends to win. Any woman could put a leash on him before another moon has passed, but he doesn’t seem to care. And it’s not even heat or hunger that makes you weak this time... It’s those eyes, looking at you with more and more warmth.

“Nonsense,” you huff without a voice, and turn towards the old road with an adoring bull on your heels.

The cold sigh of the underworld is quickly left behind you as you walk up the old carriage road, nearly grown in with weeds. The Labyrinth is located miles away from civilization, but the people living in these hills are used to the cold cave by now. They trust that the Minotaur will never escape and only turn away their heads and close the doors of their huts when the screaming, crying human sacrifices are delivered to the mouth of the cave. Little do they know that the monster is now looking at their little hills and goats with delight, not bloodlust.

For the Minotaur is fascinated with your world: he has to touch every leaf, every tree, every blade of grass, it seems. The goats are afraid of him, but one small nanny is bold enough to come and sniff his hand. Perhaps it remembers that beings walking on two feet give her apples sometimes, and the giant studies this small white animal with gentle curiosity, allows the goat to smell his hand, only chuckles when the goat gives out a little scoff when she notices there are no treats to be found there.

The vision is more adorable than when you’ve seen children play with kittens, and no matter what you do, you can’t turn your heart into ice anymore. You were taught that the Minotaur is a monster who enjoys torturing his victims, creatures far more helpless than him. Now you see him watching the she-goat with warm curiosity, rumbling softly inside his helm, far from the ravaging beast that approached you in that tunnel what seems like months ago.

You watch him with tender sadness as he marvels at the sky and remembers how he used to sit in the shade of an olive tree when he was a child. He goes to sit there now and examines how the sun filters through the massive branches of the tree as if trying to recall the memory. 

He asks questions like: “How can you humans stand this heat?” or “Why is there only one road?” and listens to your answers carefully.

He says he can smell the sea, even if the salty water is miles and miles away, and gets curious about what’s behind that hill, or that one, what about that one… You wonder if he’s even interested in killing the king anymore and suggest that he could just forget about this cruel place and buy himself a sea voyage with that expensive sword. He could get rid of his helmet and ask if anyone needs a goat herd or an able-bodied man to help at construction sites or stables; he could get work from the docks any day, sail to Athens or some other big city, forge himself a new life. 

But he doesn’t want to.

He says he has to avenge his mother who always cried when he was little.

More wretched tugs pull at your heart as you approach the city. The lovely summer’s day turns into a nightmare once people see who’s on his way to the heart of Crete.

You don’t understand their screams, not anymore, while only a few days ago you knew they preceded death. The Minotaur doesn’t kill anyone, mainly because he doesn’t have to. Everyone flees before his wake, people rush to their homes and bar the doors, even soldiers slip away to be with their loved ones or run to warn the king if they have any loyalty left. 

You’re left to walk through the marketplace in settling dust and tense silence as the Bull Man explores the abundant samples of food on display. He has to have a taste of everything from all stands, but only after he has offered figs, olives, grain, grapes, grilled meat and fish to you first.

“Eat,” he says and shoves a handful of pine seeds your way. “You were hungry?”

“This is not the way to–” you ignore the food only through sheer willpower. “This is not right. People own these things. They sell them at the market, you need to pay for these.”

“Pay? With what?”

He looks at you for a moment, unable to recall what money is and how these things are supposed to work. He probably had his mother’s servants bring him everything he needed as a child anyway, so how could he know? 

“They will take your hands for stealing,” you try to explain with softly building despair.

“I will take their heads before that.”

“The next king will hunt you down and punish you,” you rush after him, and when he won’t listen, you seize his hand and finally get him to halt. He looks down at the weak palm around his wrist, then raises his gaze to you.

“Bulls don’t have kings.”

Your attempts to tame him are futile. The things they’ve taught him to be are now being used as a way to escape responsibility, and while it’s none of your business, you refuse to let him believe that he is nothing more than an animal.

“You are not a bull,” you wail in frustration. “You’re a man.”

He hesitates, only for a moment; the gentle, loving gaze makes your legs weak.

“You’re the first to think that.” 

Then he rips himself away from you, softly but sternly.

He doesn’t need directions to the palace: he knows he has to head for the most prominent building in the city to reach the king. The grandiose heart of Crete, white-chalked and beautiful under the burning midday sun is the pride of every citizen, even if it houses another monster.

You sigh as you watch him go: the Bull Man, the demon of the underworld, the one you thought would rape you bloody before you get to crawl out of the Labyrinth. The fact that he wanted to kill his father more than he wanted to be born again into a new life wasn’t a surprise, but that he chose to bloody his sword rather than his cock is somehow... insulting, almost. 

What actually haunts you is how your insides coil and turn when you rush back to your temple. It’s not like you thought the Minotaur would take you with him. Board some trade ship bound for distant shores, and ravage you ever so softly in the belly of the creaking hull. It’s not like you dreamed of petting him to sleep while you two embark on a new life. But the way your heart twists and wails inside your chest makes it clear that losing him is even more painful than losing Theseus and the life he promised you. 

You never even wanted Theseus; you only wanted him to take you away from here. His affection would have been the result of ample witchcraft at best.

He’s practically already dead, and your heart turns to stone far more slowly than you would prefer. It’s just your luck to first have the golden hero of Greece look down on you in disdain, and then witness even the Bull Man walk away from you like you never meant anything to him. Men killing each other is the oldest story in the world, and you want no part in it, but something in this beast has stirred you awake from a long, cold slumber. It’s infuriating that you can’t dispel a simple animal from your heart. Oldest story in the book, that one, too…

But oh, how you now yearn after some cruel, lowly, dirty beast… The Minotaur already owns you, and he never even had to plunge his sword inside you to prove that. Besides, you would’ve been perfectly willing had he decided to take you on the green grass, under the vast sky, while some noisy goats graze around you. You realize that that’s what you expected to happen, and when it didn’t, you’re left more than disappointed: you're left completely hollow. You always find out these things a little too late, it seems… The Bull is headed for the palace and will likely get killed after he slaughters his cruel father. There’s at least thirty spears in that building, and more will arrive when called.

You arrive at the temple, panting and with your body flushed and weak. The maidens at the entrance share a quick glance with each other before turning their fearful gazes back to you. They’re the youngest arrivals, not even initiates yet; one of them hardly even bleeds. 

“The King is dead,” you announce without bothering to even greet them, and the girls huddle up together like they’re a bunch of slaves about to get slapped.

You realize you must look like an animal with your dirty robes, dishevelled hair and your wild, alive stare. No wonder they look like they’ve seen a ghost... You basically are one, coming back from the dead like this.

“What?” 

A priestess arrives at the threshold like an image of Hecate herself, dressed in robes as black as the midnight sky, but you don’t shy away from her like you used to.

“Or he will be. Soon. The Minotaur is here.” 

“How did you… How did it...”

You’ve never seen the priestess in disarray. She’s always composed, cold and distant, but seeing you like the wraith that you are, freshly escaped from the Labyrinth, spat back from the bowels of the earth like the dark gods didn’t even want you there, makes even the greatest of Hecate’s servants a little uneasy. 

She gathers what’s left of her dignity and finds her most commanding voice. Sadly, it doesn’t have the power to shake the ground anymore.

“Where is Theseus of Athens?”

“Disemboweled… is my best guess,” you say in a listless voice, then turn your head toward the smell of fresh fruit.

Normally, you would walk these halls with dignity, but now, you simply barge in and grab the first piece of food you find. You ought to get whipped for your insolence, but no one dares to raise a hand against you. The maids and priestesses stare in shock as you eat and drink like a starved prisoner. You’re a living Hecate in certain aspects, your arrival the first toll of the bell of doom as the palace guards sound the alarm.

So…

The Minotaur has reached the king.

…

The priestesses deem it only logical that the King finally pays for his sins: the gods have been offended by the number of human sacrifices sent to the Labyrinth, and this is their way of exacting revenge. You were only an instrument of their will.

After a quick wash and some more food, you begin to feel like a human again. The maids bring you a new chiton, flowing and white: your old clothes are burned in a brazier as if that would help you forget.

And this might be the only place you don’t get blamed for unleashing a monster. You were at a crossroads with the Minotaur, and anyone would have done the same: try to talk him out of his killing spree, calm him down, entice him with a gift. No one expected that the beast could even speak, so your approach was unusual, perhaps, but it worked. Hecate guided you through the tunnels, even when the candle went out, she stilled the Bull’s loins until you reached the sunlight where the beast got distracted with other things. You leave out the Minotaur's attraction to birds, bees and butterflies because your story is unbelievable enough as it is.

But the Minotaur will be slain after he has done his deed: Minos is the one who should be punished, not the city of Crete. And it is only just to put down this beast, a mercy.

So when he appears between the pillars of temple, this time wholly covered in blood, people are bound to scream. Even the priestesses who are used to seeing blood, shriek like widows when the Minotaur steps inside the holy shrine of Hecate.

“Where is the maiden of the crossroads?”

He came back for you, after all…

The boom of his voice is familiar, and yet, you cower on the bench when you hear it. The Minotaur sounds like he’s an envoy of Hades himself, and while you’re not among those who scream and yell, it still sends shivers down your spine to hear him speak like that.

Or is it the excitement, a tiny flame of hope that makes you quiver like this?

“We all belong to the goddess,” someone peeps, the Minotaur now descending down the stairs.

The massive head turns, gaze like razor sweeping across the marbled shrine. You’re so far back that he can’t catch you, sitting behind many bodies and faces, and before you can force yourself to rise, the main priestess, the oldest, most crooked of the crones, steps forth to meet this beast.

“This is a House of Hecate,” she speaks. “No man is allowed to enter unless they are Death.”

The black carcass turns, but the priestess doesn’t waver. If anything, her spine turns into unbreakable metal before this man’s gaze.

“I am Death,” he says, far more gently than anyone would expect. Then he walks past the crone like she’s just a harmless elder. No one does a thing, because even the head of your temple is powerless now.

“She had a red string and a candle. Where is she?”

He grabs the first woman he sees, and you rise up before he decides it’s time to thrust his blade into someone to loosen the tongues of these women. 

“Please,” you take a hesitant step towards your Bull. “I’m here... I’m the one you’re looking for.”

The Minotaur lets go of the frightened initiate the instant he sees you. She’s shoved aside with little interest, the blue eyes behind the corpse now solely fixed on you. The way they soften into hazy ice makes your knees weak – that’s the stare of someone who recognizes their loved one among a thick, dull crowd…

“Come with me,” he extends a hand when he reaches you, strong legs swallowing tiles like he’s in a hurry to get back to you. You open your mouth, close it, and look at his hand, the rough, enormous palm held out for you to place your own little hand in.

“You belong to me,” he says with great weight when you don’t speak. It should spark the ire of the goddess for him to dare to talk to you like this… But mostly, your body sings. It tells you to take a step and take his hand: to let him have you, once and for all. 

“My place is here,” you utter, all power gone from your voice. All your dreams, all your fears are offering their hand to you with his, and the maidens, mothers and crones of this hall look upon your exchange with the Bull Man in stupefied silence. 

“You were sent down to me,” he presses on. “You are mine now. You belong to me.”

Your body is singing, singing, singing.

It’s not a request… Or a proposal. 

It’s a god, taking what’s his.

…

You swallow with nothing in your throat and look at the head priestess with helpless misery: she looks back with the eyes of a noxious Medusa, wholly dispassionate to the problems you brought upon yourself. And what could she even do? She’s unarmed against the claims of Hades: Death is now in love with you, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it. 

He doesn’t want to stay in the city, as enchanting as it is, saying that it stinks and that he’s tired of the screams. No one wants him here; he already knows that, and the task he was meant to do is done. He doesn’t seem to be much moved by it either, only asking you if there is a place where he can wash the blood off himself. 

People become more bold when they see you walk out of the city. Not even the sight of a crimson demigod makes them watch their tongues. Insults and slurs follow you through the streets, shouts such as “Kingslayer!” and “Beast!” are accompanied with curses such as “You are an abomination!” and “Go back to your lair!” 

No one treats him as their prince and savior, no one sees him as the man he truly is. And because hatred thickens in crowds, you get your share of the insults as well. 

What kind of a woman would follow a beast like him? Have you sold your soul to the demons of the desert, or has Hades himself forced you to be with this monster? Are you behind the murder of their king?

“Must I remind you?” You turn on your heels, standing tall and proud with the posture of a queen. “According to the old laws, the one who slays the king is the next to rule.” 

“You led him out of the Labyrinth, didn’t you?” the voices ask.

“Gave him your cunt, too,” they sneer.

“You’re worse than the bloody Gorgon,” they mock, but you have a thick skin: if anything, you take it as a compliment to be referred to the mighty slayers of men.

What cuts through your heart is the filth and hate they spit at him, the man who has known nothing but loath since he was born. 

“Hecate’s whore… I should kill you first,” one soldier shouts with spit running down his chin.

The citizens of Crete would never hail the Minotaur as their king, but none can say the deed didn’t prove great strength. Some would even call it justice. He is the queen’s son, after all: he’s more royal than any of these dung-stinking peasants will ever be. He should never have been sent down to those tunnels in the first place.

Before you know it, the Minotaur swoops past you in haste, diving towards the screaming crowd with hunched shoulders and a fiery breath.

“Stop,” you say, and he halts immediately, gaze still directed to the one who called you a whore. The soldiers back away along with the peasants and tradesmen, these poor, humble Cretes who act like they never meant to be so mean.

“Let us go in peace,” you command, voice unwavering and stern. “Or I will curse you all. You and your families, down to the seventh son and seventh daughter.”

That manages to shut them up. The threat of a curse frightens these poor beasts even more than the enraged Minotaur breathing fire through his helm. No one wants rot and puke to follow them wherever they go; no one wants to doom their offspring with illness, death and sorrow. They disperse in all directions and only hiss and whisper as they go.

You spit on the ground as your last gift to these people, leaving the city of Crete with the ever-adoring Bull at your heels.

“You’re even prettier when you’re angry,” he says while walking next to you, voice thick with genuine passion and awe.

You roll your eyes: any man would cower before Hecate’s curse, but this one? This one only gets more horny. 

“Perhaps you are part bull after all,” you retort dryly.

“It takes more than one spear to kill me,” he boasts, but you don’t need more proof of his prowess. Surely, people have tried to kill him in the Labyrinth, but he’s survived every single attempt on his life – for that alone, he should be a decorated hero.

The only thing that makes you annoyed, however, is this childish need to prove he could’ve taken the whole city by himself just because some man happened to call you a slut.

“Mother said I’m a monster instead of a man,” he says, completely unaware that your snap wasn't meant as a compliment. He says it like he’s partly proud of it, and you finally sigh and turn. 

“Your mother was heartless. And wrong.”

The Minotaur only looks at you with a building passion that goes straight to your loins.

“But you’re not.”

“...What?”

“Heartless.”

You feel stripped naked before him, the way his eyes seem to burn away your poor dress. But the fact that he unearths your most guarded secret, just like that, is a catastrophe of a far wider scale.

You’re not sure who’s tied to whom anymore… Or if you’re tied to each other, the gods now laughing in their wine as they look down at you two: a fierce and bloodied giant following the maiden he stole like it’s you who took him and not the other way around.

You reach the roaring waters of a waterfall in silence, the night wrapping the lands inside a dark blue veil. Stars will be visible soon, and with the moon creeping up to the sky, you won’t be needing candles tonight. The silver mistress gives plenty of light for you to admire your beast, and compared to the thick darkness of the tunnels you emerged from this morning, it feels like a generous blessing.

You sit on the banks of the small, clear pond, utterly exquisite at nightfall. The sun’s heat has turned into a warm, caressing breeze, and you submerge your feet into the water, giving out a satisfied sigh as the cool pond embraces your travel worn feet. The Bull sinks to a crouch some distance away from you, curious about your obvious moment of pleasure.

“Did you meet her…? Your mother?” You ask from the cool water lapping at your feet – how can a simple man make you feel so restless and shy?

“Did you… kill her?” 

“She cursed me,” he says, sullen and wholly unsurprised. Time and time again, you are shocked by the hatred his own kin shows him. How can a mother be so cruel?

“How could I kill my own maker?”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For everything.” 

You swallow before such unwavering love. The same man who cursed the gods yesterday  honours the womb he came from so much that he won’t raise a hand against it, not even when his own mother spits curses at him. You don’t know if it’s his greatest strength or biggest weakness, but sometimes you wonder if he’s more human than humans, this beast.

“I’m not,” he retorts immediately. “The king is dead. Mother is safe. I have you... This is the best day of my life.”

You turn to look at him. Time and again, the lack of lies and deceit in this man catches you off guard. It’s more painful than any wound, to see how the Minotaur has no protective skin against the corrupted human nature, that he is human nature before it was defiled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you falter. 

The chiton pools around your ankles, and you wonder if the man even breathes anymore. You know your skin is glowing with the last rays of the setting sun, you’re aware that the water and moonlight play upon your skin and make you look like an illusion, powerful in its own way.

When have you ever faltered…? Back when you were a little girl, you reckon, the notion euphoric and eerie in your bones.

You rise up and undress before him nonchalantly, trying to ignore the fervid stare of your admirer. Unclasping the brooches holding up your white linen dress, you let it fall down and set you free, secretly reveling in the downright carnal stare now glued to your skin. 

Ripe for plucking, you think while stepping out of the pile of cloth and into the thin evening air. His gaze feasts on you: the plump breasts no one ever loved, the vulnerable navel down below, the dark triangle between your legs, the secret power it holds.

Heat pools into your core as you watch him: everything in your body turns warm and soft when you take in the utter heftiness of him. The mean, swelling phallus between his legs, the near inhuman strength those shoulders and chest possess. Your body is the complete opposite of him, ethereal, almost, compared to the absolute brute strength before you. 

His eyes linger there the longest until he rises too, stiff and dreamy, a beast entirely taken by a thrall. The loincloth is practically torn away, as if it’s only a nuisance he must get rid of immediately. His eyes never leave your shape while he bares himself, and the phallus, you notice, belongs to a human. It’s thick and wondrous, fully erect, adorned with dark curls and accompanied by a set of balls you’ve mainly seen on horses. Big, full and round but unlike animals, they’re covered in dark fur, almost black here in the evening light. Thick seed beads through the slit of his cock from simply seeing you, and the way his chest heaves makes it clear that this man is ready to mate as soon as he’s allowed to do so. 

“You need to take off your helm,” you lift your chin, thoroughly aware of your power over him, even if it’s laughable, a miracle that he doesn’t fuck you on the spot like the animal he is. “You’re a man, not a bull.”

His eyes don’t betray any kind of hesitation. He doesn’t seem to be interested in whether he wears his mask or not. He just blinks as if he’s indeed under a spell and nods.

“If you say so.”

The broad muscles flex as he takes it off, and what is revealed to you from underneath the head is both a surprise and a disappointment. There’s not a monster under there, only a man, a stoic, boorish, shaggy male who’s in desperate need of a wash and a comb. He’s somewhat handsome under all that facial hair and knots, actually, not bad at all – if you like your men rugged and wild. 

He lets the head drop to the ground with a thud as if it was never a part of him at all, and follows you into the pool like you’re his mother and he’s your cub about to get scrubbed clean. 

He seems to dwarf you, even when half submerged in the pond, leaning back with a sigh not unlike yours. If you’re afraid, your body has a peculiar way of showing it: even in the clear, glossy water, you can feel yourself get wet. Never have you seen such strength, not in any man: in horror and awe, you realize he could be a descendant of Zeus himself. As if providing proof to these claims, he looks up to the sky, mesmerized by the myriad stars dotting the vast, unattainable blue.

Using this momentary distraction to your advantage, you reach to pluck a handful of moss from the bank. With this soft little sponge in your hand, you hope to make it clear that this is indeed a bath, not foreplay. 

“They’re stars,” you say softly while slinking closer to him. “Have you ever seen them...?”

“Yes,” he rasps with his head lolled back, throat completely exposed. It always hurts your heart to see that he trusts you so fully. You are no threat to him – even if the gods changed the moss in your hand into a weapon of some sort, you wouldn’t pose any kind of challenge. And still, the way he allows you to creep towards him and wipe his rough hide with the makeshift sponge without so much as flinching is heartbreaking. 

“I have forgotten…” his voice drifts off as he examines the night sky, eyes filled with distant, glass-like delight.

“Beautiful, aren’t they...?” 

“Your world is pretty,” he brings his gaze back to earth and to you. “But you’re the loveliest thing I’ve seen so far.”

You almost freeze upon hearing that. His compliments always catch you off guard, but this time, something forbidden and long forgotten comes undone: a lost want, no, a need to hear such simple words of shallow praise.

“You do not scream... You do not run. Why?”

Your eyes are liquid, glass about to break as you set yourself on the task of scrubbing him clean. You refuse to get emotional in front of him: an initiate of the dark goddess, shedding tears when a horny man calls her pretty? What utter nonsense.

But then he grabs your wrist: not to seize back power, but to prevent you from escaping this fragile moment.

“You are different,” he agrees calmly, then releases you, but you reckon it’s mostly because he misses the soft rubs you were giving him. 

“Perhaps I’m crazy,” you breathe while looking at the damp curls on his chest.

Yes… That’s the only explanation for this madness. It has to be.

“Is that why you took me?” 

“I took you because you’re mine. I want you.”

“You can’t just take what you want,” you warn softly.

“Why not?” His head tilts a little to the side as he’s trying to make sense of you and the manners of your world. “Don’t you want to be mine?”

You lift your gaze and risk a look into his eyes, stripped from all facades as always. You even catch a passing wave of worry there: he had counted on you being as fascinated with him as he is with you. The hunger behind that want, the need to be something special to you, is a whole another issue that must wait until your head is more clear. Way more clear…

“Perhaps,” you confess.

“I have nothing to give you,” he shrugs, eyes looking slightly past you this time, out of shame or anxiety. It takes a while for you to understand he’s liking you to the goods at the market and thinks he’s expected to have money to be able to keep you.

“You don’t need to pay for me,” you smile, trying your best to disguise the soft amusement in your voice. His brows only furrow as he tries to calculate and think.

“I don’t understand the rules of this world,” he finally shakes his head. 

“I’ll teach you.”

For a while, he only looks on with fascination how you rub his arms and belly, basically massaging him with the wet moss. His eyes drift closed when you scrub the back of his neck, the stout erection only getting thicker under the cool water. You’re careful with his legs, not because you’re afraid he’s ticklish but because you try to avoid touching the huge cock already jutting up from happiness. It gives a few excited bounces when you wash his inner thighs, hopeful to get its needs satiated soon. 

“I can hunt for you,” he suggests. “Bring you food… Protect you.”

He’s visibly excited when figuring out a way to give you something in return. He wants to provide offerings for your company, your lore, and eventually, your cunt, too. You might be a virgin, but you’re not stupid: of course he wants the soft, wet prize between your legs. A pair of lovely tits to squeeze at night... Ears to groan hushed confessions into, thighs to nibble, bite and suck until you cry... 

“What do you think?” He asks, breath heavy from the bliss you’re already granting him by simply giving him a bath. “I could give you my heat. Please you...”

“You know how to please women?” 

“No. But you could teach me.”

The way he says it is not shy. Only tentative. A bear, walking on ice and hoping it would carry his weight. One wrong step and the ice will swallow him, spitting out his bones only in spring. 

And then…

“Do you know how to fuck?”

The ice holds, mainly because you’re too shocked to even slap or ridicule this man. His eyes bore into you with such unbridled greed that you have trouble keeping your precious pride intact.

“Of course,” you hear yourself whisper like it would be an insult to your intellect if you didn’t.

“Teach me,” he says, ever more greedily.

“I…”

Your jaw is left open, but not a word comes out. A strong palm closes around your wrist again, this time to bring you flush against him. The water laps at your skin, a distant crow cackles somewhere. Your hand is brought to his phallus, but he doesn’t have to wrap your fingers around it: you do it all by yourself, breath locked in your throat as you feel how hard and blazing he is.

“You want my cock,” he says, mouth only an inch from yours. “Don’t you...?”

You wet your lips – a mistake, because his half-lidded gaze darts to your mouth the instant your pink tongue lashes out. You’re in a predicament, but on the other hand, what else did you expect, taking your clothes off in front of a touch-starved bull?

“I’d give it to you happily,” he insists. “No female ever wanted to spread her legs for me.”

Or a leash. 

Your fingers tighten on their own, they mould around him. Like a bond…

“Really?” You breathe. “What fools they were...”

The cock gives a full throb inside your palm, exalted to be yours. But only a moment later, the dreaded Minotaur moves. 

You find yourself under him before you can even gasp for air: the soaked, hot body of a giant now pinning you on the grass and crushing you under it with ease. The weight of your error is fully pressed against you: he was never tamed, and you were a fool to think you could put him in chains.

The raw scent of earth and musk fills your nostrils, making the stars above you spin. His cock is trapped between your bodies, giving another rich pulse against your thigh. Gods, if he were throbbing like that inside you…

“You make my skin burn,” he growls into your ear, the heat of his skin now unbearable, the coarse hair prickling your skin from neck to thigh. “My loins, ache…”

“Are you a witch?” He asks, and you finally allow yourself to breathe.

If he only knew… But hexes and charms are of no use for you now: the only thing you can do is moan, apparently, as he dives for your neck, planting barbarous kisses on your skin.

Down, down, down he goes, pure avarice driving him to feast on every part of you. You’re too weak to stop him when he searches for the source of your intoxicating scent. Discovering it between your thighs, he dives nose-first into your sex, meeting your core with a hungry grunt.

Your back arcs with pleasure, your nails sink into his back: a funny thing to do when he’s already as close as can be. The trail of crude kisses leads him to your breasts, and you try to keep your whimpers in control, but a gasp erupts when he drags a hot tongue across your nipple. Massive palms close around your tits while you squirm in his hold: he doesn’t seem to be driven by the need to please you; rather, he wishes to study you first, examine how your body reacts to his groping. He leaves your breasts aching and sore, every bite and suck managing to make you wetter and wetter, your cunt screaming for attention by now.

“Gods...” you wriggle on the soft earthen bed, not expecting him to take you with his mouth first.

He withdraws, only a little, but his voice is surprisingly soft.

“Do I hurt you...?” 

“No… But this is not mating…”

“Even I know that much,” he says darkly, and grabs you by the waist, moves you around like a doll until you find yourself on your belly. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, demonic and keen. The broad shoulders force your legs wide apart when he’s seated there, waist-deep in the water, with you hauled to the shore like a siren.

Not a moment is wasted as he pulls you back to him by the hips: you’re drawn to all fours, a hot streak of cum dragging on the inside of your thigh from the cock that meets your skin. He grabs and steadies it with an annoyed grunt, and the fat tip is shoved straight into your folds, your nether lips parted with brute force almost. 

“Guide me.”

His voice is demanding, impatient as he drags the fat head up and down the entrance of your hole, coating his cock with your slick in the process. You wonder if it’s instinctual, if he knows that this is where he should poke and that it will hurt you less if he’s well-oiled. He’s about to rut you into oblivion the instant you tell him where to shove his cock, and the prospect only sends more sap flowing down your thigh.

“There…” you stutter when he finds it, the aching spot that’s leaking profusely. He pushes the head in, not by teasing but by bullying, almost forcing it inside from how tight and unreceptive you are.

“Tighter than my fist,” is his only comment, and it makes you shudder. “I will not last long…”

You wince from the burn, but the rest of it glides in like a dream, and suddenly you’re filled, to the capacity, one could say. He grunts just from the way your womanhood is hugging him, not sure what this foreign object inside you is – is it a good thing or a threat?

“Easy then,” you breathe a huff into the sweet night air, filled with fireflies and night birds who know nothing about the fucking you’re about to go through.

He doesn’t move – inside you, that is. Outside, he crawls forward until he moulds around you, heavy body enveloping you completely. The hairs on his thighs tickle the back of your legs, his chest scrapes your back just so as he demonstrates how you belong to him in every way. But when your cunt starts to squeeze him again, he swallows thickly.

“Does this feel good to you too…?”

You catch faint confusion and concern in his voice, astonished that such a soft, frail body like yours can take his cock just like that. Little does he know you’re still adjusting to his size, thanking all the gods that he doesn’t move yet.

“Yes,” you confess because it does feel good: his thickness inside you, stretching you both gently and violently, studying how it feels to be inside a loving, wet heat.

“Then I will fuck you every day,” his lips come to brush your ear. “Many times...”

You hear yourself whimper, more humble now than ever. No man would dare to take you on all fours, but here you are, like a bought bride about to get stuffed…

He withdraws a little, asks, “Like this?” when he returns with a rough, nasty thrust. The balls meet your mound, heavy on the tender nub you’ve flicked when you’re lonely, covering your mouth while you do it. Both your hands are planted on the ground now, your legs spread before this beast, cunt filled to the brim with his cock.

“Not so rough,” you warn, and he heeds your instructions to the letter until he’s moving in and out with a slow, delicious pace that allows you to feel every thick bump of him. Soaked now down to your thighs, the sounds of your mating is utterly sloppy and slick, and of course he’s curious.

“Are you always like this…?”

“Like… what,” you huff in between the slow, torturous thrusts.

“Soft,” he rasps. “Tight… Wet like rain.”

“No. It’s just when…”

“When you want to fuck?”

You whimper for an answer, mostly because he starts to slip from the agreed sluggish pace. His cock invades you with more urgency, chasing the eruption that must be generous from those thick balls that should belong to a horse.

“I knew it…” he says dreamily behind you. “Some women want to mate with bulls...”

He punctuates his newfound pride with a full, deep thrust, and you wince.

“You’re not a–”

“Keep telling yourself that, little maiden.”

He exhales a hot smile next to your ear, and you’re neck deep in love. Your mouth hangs open, your lids half closed and fluttering from the way he pounds into your poor, abused cunt. Heavy balls slap your swollen nub with careless abandon, making you squeeze his thickness every time he hits the end of you. His grunts become more animalistic with every thrust, and your cunt is a wild thing, leaking and weeping and throbbing until you fear there’s something wrong with you – no woman is supposed to be this needy for a beast…

I’m going to come… You realize in horror as the slick sounds of fucking overthrow even the coursing roar of the waterfall. The knowledge shoots your body full of dark, hot ink; it explodes inside your core like a liquid star, throbbing through your cunt currently being ploughed like you’re nothing but a needy, sloppy hole for him. You’re swimming in so much pleasure that it’s almost painful, the revelation some secret of the gods, no doubt. 

He growls when you moan, heavy arm snaking its way around your middle to keep you in place for him. The purr is eager and low, the rumble erupts from his chest like a thick, loving volcano, a statement of how perfect you are. He nuzzles his nose into your neck and rubs his scent all over you while fucking you through it, the divine rapture that leaves your throat dry from moans. 

He doesn’t need to be told what it means when you’re crying like that: he doesn’t need to be explained that his cock is giving you ample pleasure. It’s so desperate, how much he wants to both fuck and please you, just own you and fulfill you, that you start to shake, your frail body not capable of handling the orgasm he just gave you. 

Your strength fails, and you find yourself on your elbows, cunt even more exposed to him now, the cock pistoning into you with a relentless pace. He’s like a titan upon you, taking pleasure from your quivering, weak frame and the tight wet hole that belongs to it. You’re still in rapture when he starts to sound like broken, wounded man.

“You were made for me,” he huffs. “You were made...for me…”

His voice evaporates along with your thin, adoring mewls, just before he fucks himself over the edge. You can feel the hot, thick spurts, filling you as he roars into your hair, balls pressed flush against your sex, thighs meeting yours in a moment frozen in time. 

They can probably hear him all the way to the city, hear what a cunt like yours does to an invincible beast like him… But his cries are only met with silence; the night sky looks back with disinterest, the birds continue their songs when they notice it was only the roar of a mighty beast that filled the land. Before long, he’s groaning above you, using your hole more softly; loving it until the last drop is milked. 

When he stops, his whole body is trembling from release, but you’re not given a moment of reprieve. He forces you to the ground with him on your back, the rough, thick body never leaving yours. Coarse beard chafes your neck, his body trapping you completely under him, he even opens his jaw to take your shoulder between his teeth and bites you while his cock is still pulsing fat inside you. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” he pants into your ear, angry, almost.

“Good,” you breathe a smile, but he’s not satisfied.

“You couldn’t get enough of me too… I noticed.”

“You gave me pleasure,” you agree. “Lots of it.”

“That was a lot of seed… I haven’t spilled in days.”

He huffs into your ear, astonished and proud that he could do such a thing. You feel him shift to take a better look at you, fingers arrive to graze your temple as if to make sure you’re real, as if having his cock inside you wasn’t enough proof of that. They’re a little shaky, a little uncouth, but the touch is gentle enough, and sweet.

He's boasting again perhaps, you don’t know, but you give him a soft laugh, notice how he stops breathing momentarily when hearing the bright sound.

“I am filled to the brim with you, yes… It will take a while before I can take more.”

“...You have other holes in you,” he offers after a while, quite seriously, in fact. 

“Get off me, you beast,” you huff and squirm to get out from under him, but there’s a luscious grin on your face, a smile that tells him you would more than approve of his obscene ideas later. 

“This feels good,” he murmurs into your hair. “This feels right...”

He allows you to leave from under him, only whines when his cock gets exiled from your cunt. He misses the wet heat like a newborn child misses the womb, but you need to recover from the recent invasion. Seed gushes out from your hole, making a mess on the ground as he pulls you against him, wanting to cuddle you next.

You wonder if he even knows what cuddling means as you lie there with a sticky mess between your legs and the heat of an entire sun on your cheeks. You smile into the coarse, sweaty body hair tickling your nose, deciding it doesn’t matter whether he knows or not: the most important thing is that he wants to hold you like this.

“Yes,” you smile. “This feels right…”

Something blooms in your chest. An odd flower, persistent and sweet. 

The stars above are cold but motherly as they look down on you two: born again into a world that doesn’t want either of you. The only things that accept you now are flowers, birds, the wind and the rain, bees and salty sea, but that’s aplenty. That’s more than the whole of Crete could ever give you.

“Are you thinking about your hero,” he asks above you.

“What? No…”

“Good,” he rasps, so softly now that you start to fear he’s about to cry.

You are more than capable of lying, but Theseus hasn’t crossed your mind in hours: the last time it did, the memory was received with loath and disdain. Thinking about Theseus while you’re draped all over your Bull, his seed flowing out of your womb... What a ridiculous idea. 

The reason for his hardly disguised anger is laid out plain before you: he's just jealous like any other man. Somehow, it makes you feel even more glowy inside.You’re my hero, you want to say, but have no courage to spill out the words. He was balls deep inside you mere moments ago, but telling him this intimate truth seems to be too much.

It never occurred to him, then, that you would enjoy copulating with him. He fucked you with the impression that you needed thoughts of another man to make you wet… That perhaps with the help of the image of Theseus in your mind, you were able to come with his cock inside you. 

“My Bull,” you whisper. “Tell me your name. You must have a name…?”

His breath stops only for a moment, the heart in his chest gives an arduous beat before he answers.

“Asterion.”

Starry one…

Of course.

All monsters have names, usually the opposite of what they’re claimed to be. His birth is in heaven, in the stars; he belongs to the company of heroes and gods.

“Asterion,” you whisper it out into the night air while the animal an man both find their new home in your arms. “Your birth is written in the stars. Did you even know…?”

“Does that make me a hero?” He snorts, more old wounds torn open right before your eyes. 

You wriggle yourself out of his hold, but he avoids your stare. You lift a hand to bring those beautiful Olympian eyes back to you.

“It makes you immortal.”

Perhaps you should’ve known he would be enticed with an apple instead of tethers and deals. Or with a palm, held out with no intent to strike… 

It’s lovely, how he blinks every time he’s confused. You’ve yet to see him shy, but if he ever is, this might be the moment… You even catch him swallowing under that wild facial hair, an awkward blob right after that blink when his birthright is acknowledged.

But even more dumbfounded he becomes when he realizes you’re truly and veritably admiring him. When you whisper it to him – you’re my hero – and watch something shatter in him that was supposed to wrench itself free, that’s when he’s truly granted divinity.

Perhaps it was all about becoming animal again, allowing the other to have a sniff. Baring your throat and embracing the instinct to trust. Marrying your wild soul… The deepest magic of all.