#medieval!König

[ghouljams]

https://twitter.com/bomilek60088/status/1762419448512733302?t=-QofIVhcYviN7qi8p3d_Cw&s=19

Murderous König

God there are so so many couples I could slot this in with it's too good, I love that man with blood on his hands. Medieval!König has won, here's the tyrant.

You are a coward, you are many things, but most importantly to this moment you are a coward. Facing down the king in all his glory makes your blood run cold. You know who he is, of course you always know who he is. König is and always will be a blood thirsty man, one that you should fear more than you could ever hold affection for. Yet he has never raised a voice or hand to you without your consent, and you had forgotten- you had forgotten that this man was baptized in blood, crowned with his father's head still clenched in one giant bloody fist.

You stand in your garden, his garden, and you are a coward. König flips the hand-axe over in his hand, pulled from your gardening tools, and slashes it through a nobleman's neck with such a crack that the head goes flying from the body. You watch the twitch of fingers, the half raise of hands, the body still catching up to the severing before it falls to its knees and collapses onto the grass. Blood coats König's cape, drips from his hands and the chainmail covering his face. He rolls his shoulders and rears back with the axe and brings it down hard into the middle of the corpse, another crack in its spine. A splinter of some metal.

He tugs his axe free with a grunt and a short wiggle of the blade, then reaches to pull a knife from the blood soaked tunic. The blade is broken in half, but that doesn't stop him from clutching the handle and throwing it hard into the back of the nobleman's fleeing secretary. The knife doesn't even have a point, you hear the thunk of it as it lodges the broken end into the secretary's spine, and the man falls.

You're a coward, you stand frozen and watch as König stalks over to finish the job. He brings the axe down four times before you jerk your head to avert your gaze. The force he uses, it's a quick death, it's blood lust that keeps him beating a corpse. You don't know how long you stand there, don't know how long the sickening thunk rings through your ears after König has stopped his assault. You don't know why you flinch away from the warm wet leather that grips your jaw. König has never raised his voice or hand to you, and he still doesn't, even when you push at his grip and try to keep your breathing steady.

"Do not be afraid Liebling," König coos, you can smell the blood as he leans close to rub his nose against your cheek, the metal rings drag sickly smearing red over your skin, "I won't hurt you,-" you swallow, squeeze your eyes shut, "-not without cause."

"And what cause did they give you?" You ask, because your curiosity will always get the better of you. König hums, turns his head to rub your cheeks together.

"They were coveting something they shouldn't have," You shudder, hear the axe drop so König can slip his hand around your waist, grip the back of your skirt and pull you close, "if you weren't here-" There's something disguised as gentleness in König's tone, something with teeth, something that warns you against listening too closely to the words he says, "-I might have let them live."

"You killed them for me," Your voice wavers, half question, half truth. You know- you know, that König's love is something alien to humanity, something that you can only understand in the moments he's inside you.

"It's important to know the man you're marrying," König tells you, with the same casual airs as giving you his favorite color, or his least favorite food. Still, the threat of marriage snaps you back to yourself, reminds you of the firm hand your king comes to you for.

"We're not getting married." You remind him.

"We're not getting married yet, Schatz," He assures you, pulling away only to let you see the dangerous spark in his eyes, "but we will."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

What about princess reader who falls for Konig? He's a retired royal soldier (Bit of an age gap but I was thinking more like he was so good he was able to retire early) that she saw every once and a while and she does the typical "disguise myself as a commoner so i can sneak into town" routine and he pretends he doesn't know but he used to serve her family so ofc he fucking recognizes her

He tries to be gentle with her but honestly she should just be happy he isn't ratting her out to her family 🙄🙄🙄 (not that she minds)

CW: 18+ MDNI. Medieval AU, forbidden love, mutual pining, virgin!princess!reader x veteran!knight!König. Undefined age gap (reader is of legal age which means she’s "old" for an unmarried woman of this period). Reader is kinda coercive, König is implied to be a virgin too. Bittersweet romance vibes, brooding guy/gentle girl trope, ambiguous ending.

Word count: 6.4 k

You never thought you’d have the guts to slap a knight. 

Violence is unladylike, and even if you’re a princess, it doesn’t mean you should force your status down someone’s throat like that. Far less his, the man you were taught to respect and listen to because he’s a man, and older than you. 

The fact that he was also an anointed knight didn’t seem as important as the simple truth that he possessed a cock between his legs, and it always annoyed you to no end that this was the reason why men ruled the world. As a lady still unwed, you’re supposed to be afraid of cocks, especially if they’re old and gruff. 

But you never were afraid in the presence of your father’s most loyal knight. He was your sworn shield too, and the only time he had been away from your side was when he asked to go on a pilgrimage to some chapel nearby. Said he wanted to seek forgiveness for his sins.

A man like him must have a lot to pray forgiveness for, but knowing that he could split a man in half with that greatsword of his doesn’t stop you from sneaking out one night as you follow him outside the castle walls and into the local inn.

Dressed as a stable boy, you watch with wide eyes how he gulps down three pints of beer and doesn’t turn any dumber from it. His speech never slurs, his shoulders never slump, but when some kitchen wench sits down beside him, your breath gets caught in your throat. 

You look at the odd couple for a moment or two, watch how your father’s knight, the secret object of your silly daydreams, finally loosens the strings of his purse and offers the girl a copper coin. 

It’s more than you can take, so you shoot up from your bench and march to him. The woman looks up at you with lousy disinterest as you ask the man of your dreams if he’d like to have another pint of ale. Your knight recognizes you immediately, even in your too-big tunic and your uncomely hose, even with that dirty felt hat covering your hair.

And he’s mortified, from what you can tell.

Both your eyes are wide now, and the woman beside him is smart enough to leave. She slides herself off the bench and sneaks past your side, and your valiant knight just looks at you, looks at you, looks at you. 

You should be worried that he’ll snitch about your adventures to your father, but right now, all you can do is stare at him like he’s the thief, caught fresh and red-handed. Because he is a thief, and a devil, the worst man on earth when he was supposed to be the best. You snort to let him know how much you despise him—for coming here and bedding women for money when he’s supposed to be a sworn, celibate knight—but what truly hurts here is that he’s bedding someone else than you.

When you march out of the inn, he follows you, even dares to lay his hand on you by grabbing your arm outside. That’s when you turn on your heels and deliver a fat slap on his cheek, lightly stubbled and sweet, something you had hoped to plant a kiss on for many, many years.

“Your grace,” He grunts and rubs his chin, slightly amused. “Have I offended you?”

The slap couldn’t hurt that much, and this man never does amused. Even now, the mirth extends only to his eyes, never to his lips. 

“You know perfectly well that you have, sir,” you clasp your hands in front of you, now entirely his princess even though you’re dressed like a peasant.

“My lady,” he bows both in body and in voice. “I truly don’t know what crime I have committed.”

You’ve never seen him so… jovial.

Usually this knight looks like there’s a stick up his ass, that someone pissed in his porridge and shat in his stew, that there’s nothing but hailstorms and calamity in his life. 

Were you any more clever, you’d leave him be, but God has made it so that you’re drawn to battered and beaten animals. Of course you’re drawn to him too, lonely and spiteful as he is. This man broods so much you sometimes wonder if he’s the reason why it rains so violently up here in the hills. He probably summons dark clouds above the castle with those ponderous frowns alone – but now he’s looking at you as if he just woke up from the dead and walked into the shy sunshine after a long, harsh winter.

“You… You shouldn’t bed women,” you tell him, and he looks at you even more curiously.

“You shouldn’t pay for it,” you mumble next – unladylike, again, especially when your eyes turn to your shoes and away from that hawk-like, calm stare.

There’s a short silence after that, and you almost turn heel and walk back to the castle from the desire to escape the weight of his eyes. Eventually, he shifts his weight to the other leg and clears his throat.

“I sometimes pay for women to hold me. There’s nothing more to it.”

You raise your eyes to meet his, but the mirth is all gone now. It’s replaced by solemn acceptance, some sorrow you never even knew he had. Yes, he’s always silent and looks a bit pissed, but he’s not heartbroken, no, not your brave knight…

“To “hold you”, sir?”

The sorrow is covered with white lashes before you get to the bottom of it. Something tugs at the corner of his mouth—shame and frustration, probably.

“To hold me. Like a mother would. Is that a sin?”

His eyes search for yours from under dark brows, they beg for your consent as if it mattered to him. They’re quite catching, his eyes; enchanting in their intangibility. You know he doesn’t need your acceptance, nor is he threatened by your disgust. He’s unreachable, untouchable, forbidden—a mountain you can never climb because you wouldn't even find it among the mist. And those eyes see everything but feel nothing: they haven’t taken part in the troubles of this world in years.

…

He evades you for the whole of next week. 

Leaves the hall if you choose to dine there, walks away when he sees you at the stables, looks through you if you have the courage to address him. You stand watch by the window every night to see if he slips out of the castle, but it seems your knight has lost his interest in kitchen wenches and copper hugs. 

It burns like hot broth in your stomach, the thought of him in some other woman’s embrace. This mighty giant of a knight, kneeling in front of a girl, paying for her to simply put her arms around him. 

You’re not sure if you’re childish to believe him and his words. To trust that he truly goes to them just to be held. You’re not sure if you’re the worst lover of poor, crippled creatures for not wanting to let him have even that...

Because you wish to hold him yourself, here, in the softest of all beds. Just wrap your arms around him after you’ve unburdened him of that heavy mail and thick gambeson; you’d help him with anything he needs. Let him sigh against you and have those lines of worry on his brooding face smooth somewhat. Maybe sing a soft song for him to help him sleep...

The thought of him being so lonely that he spends his wage on girls just to have a hug is driving you to madness.

It’s tearing you to pieces because he would never, ever have to pay you to hold him. 

It’s forbidden, you know: this love you’ve harboured for years. He’s far below your rank, even as a bannerman, he’s far below you even if he’s taller than the tallest war horse in your father’s stables. He’s older than you too, but that’s hardly the biggest problem: your father took his second wife when he was five and thirty and the maid was seventeen. The match was considered perfectly normal, even healthy, but this would not. This would cause an outrage.

Oh yes, you’re to be wed far away to some sadistic young lord if your father has his way. You’re sure they’re already gossiping about it in the streets: how you should’ve been sold like a horse years ago. How is it that you’re still here, burdening the kingdom with your presence and swallowing up coin? 

If they only knew that you’ve fought against every match with tooth and nail, the townsfolk would work themselves into a small uprising. And you’re not against marriage because you like it here so much... You’re against it because the knight who dresses himself in black mail and makes the servants piss themselves with his heavy footsteps alone makes your heart flutter like never before.

Your father would kill both of you if he knew.

And you wonder… What would he do? Your pale, brooding knight?

Would he scoff and turn his head away if he knew you dreamed of him before sleep, would he be appalled to hear that you’ve touched yourself to the thoughts of him? Would he think you a whore…?

You dress differently that night, the night you catch him escape the dull horrors of the castle once more. Boredom oozes out of the walls here, a poison of nothingness and despair. The stones won’t offer warmth, not even during the height of spring, so it’s no wonder that your knight is headed elsewhere for warmth and a mug of ale. 

You dress accordingly to see what this toughest of knights is made of: with a brown woolen skirt and a white cotton blouse, you look the part of a kitchen maid who forgot half her garments at home. 

People look at you in the streets, but without your usual attire and with your hair styled differently, they wouldn’t know who they’re looking at even if they saw you frolic around like this in court. You know they’re looking at you because you're a half naked woman ripe for taking, stubbornly out at night and dressed so suggestively it’s a miracle no guard rapes you before you reach the inn. 

Maybe it’s the royal pride that keeps them away: you certainly look like you haven’t toiled in the fields or shoveled horse dung in your poor miserable life. There’s an air about you, and he notices it too, far before you’ve sat your pretty bum on the bench next to him.

“What are you doing,” he asks with a slightly alarmed voice.

He has that stick up his arse again, sits so straight that you’ve never seen such a ramrod back on anyone. When you set your hand over his, he only blinks.

“One silver to hold you, sir,” you lean to whisper on his skin, the shaved cheek you’ve wanted to kiss for so, so long. “What do you say...?”

He’s still breathing, even if there’s no sound to prove that he is. You can only see it from the rise and fall of his chest, covered by a stained, cream-white gambeson, that he’s breathing. He’s big, even without his armor, big and strong and intimidating, a tower of strength in one man.

“I cannot bed women,” he talks to the stout logs that make the walls of the inn, refusing to even look at you after one quick horrified glimpse.

“Who said anything about bedding?”

“This is a dangerous game, your grace,” he warns with a low purr when you won’t relent. 

His voice is parched but smooth, and you smell smoke; delicious smoke from the fire that sticks to the clothes of a person who spends too many hours staring into a fire. You smell ham and earth and leather and sweat, horses and metal, the rusty stench of mail gone bad.

You wonder how you smell to his nostrils – is it something sweet? Fresh herbs and lavender oil maybe, or soft, spun wool, some tangerines and summer wine?

“I’m not your grace,” you tell him, nose now touching the bridge of his ear. “Not in here.”

You see from the turned sleeve of his padded tunic that the hairs on his arm are standing on end. His eyes are closed, and you can finally hear his ragged breaths. Desire speaks in them, or then you’re in over your head... Why else would he sound like that, like he’s already making love?

“One silver, sir, and I’ll hold you all night,” you repeat softly, and he swallows with a dry, open mouth.

“I don’t have such money on me,” he rasps, voice drenched in slow, drowsy want. 

He wants this; wants, wants, wants….

“Really? Is my price too high?”

“Far too high for a man like me.”

You breathe a smile upon his skin, the place where his neck meets his jaw. Running your fingers across his wrist, you leave little to the imagination and you both know it.

“You can pay for the room and we’ll see how much you have left after that.”

“Princess, this is–”

“Hush.”

He’s in pain now, you can see it: the sharpness, the distant eagle gaze from his eyes is gone. He can barely keep his lids open, and when you peel the sleeve back with your hand, pet him like he’s one of your cats, press your lips on the spot you know is the most sensitive, he groans.

“You’re going too far,” he whispers, but won’t move. Breathless now, he can’t even speak with dignity. Gone are the distanced grunts and the composure, even the stick in his arse has melted away. 

If a touch of your lips and the softest caress can do this to him, what would happen if you straddled his lap? How would it feel to be pressed against him, naked and entwined in a mutual embrace?

“You didn’t say no to that other girl,” you breathe more kisses on his skin. “Am I so horrendous…?”

“You–” he starts, opens his eyes somewhat. “You are teasing me on purpose.”

“You never were the brightest of my father’s knights,” you smile a little laugh in his ear. 

He grabs his pint as if that could save him; out of fury or lust, you don’t know. And that’s when your little adventure gets interrupted: someone must’ve had enough of this disgusting display of seduction and whoring. 

“Pardon me, lovebirds. The room’s a copper, if it please you,” a tired voice says from somewhere above. “And the ale is–”

“Ja, ja. I’ll pay,” your knight grunts with such annoyance that you’re not sure if he’s mad at you or the poor soul who interrupted you two. 

Everyone here must think that you’re here to make some coin on a lonesome, desperate man. And he’s desperate, by God, he’s desperate… But when you walk upstairs and into your room, he takes a dip in cold waters without you knowing anything about it. When the door shuts behind you, your knight is back to the unbroken effigy he was last week, as he has always been. 

“You sleep there,” he points at the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“There’s plenty of room on the–”

“One more word from that pretty mouth and I’ll tell your father what you’ve been up to.”

You’re sent to your bed without supper, in your silly clothes, and get to watch how he barely takes his boots off before setting himself down on the floor, back turned to you. The innocent question “You think my mouth is pretty?” only gets an irritated scoff for an answer.

From under the linens, you watch him sigh and slowly turn to stone on the cold floor. There’s a big rug there but it’s barely enough to keep the chill out, and the hearth is cold during late days of spring. You’re warm enough here under your sheet, but you would be warmer if your knight was here with you… Warm body against yours as you both hold each other through the night. 

If only he could be enticed here by lying that you’re freezing... His honor would force him to share the bed with you, and your poor knight wouldn’t have to wake up with sore joints. The more you listen to him let out those occasional sighs, the more you want to shake this man. This silly act of martyrdom has to come to an end, now.

Slipping out from the warmth of your bed, you tiptoe to him. You know he can hear you, probably cursing in his mind with that crude foreign tongue of his. Laying yourself down behind him, you snuggle close until your front is glued to his back. 

It must pain him to have a maiden leave the comfort of her bed and trade it for the dirty floor, but you wonder if there’s pleasure in the pain when your touch finds him once more. And it’s not just want and lust you feel when you place your arm around him. It’s not motherly love either, although you do feel like you’re embracing a giant child who doesn’t want to be comforted. You know nothing about how lovers touch or hold each other, you’ve never touched a man other than your father, and those touches were never affectionate and warm, those touches were barely there at all. 

You wonder if you should be scared: you were taught that men will fuck everything that moves when given the chance. If a man of his size chose to take you here on this floor, there would be nothing left of you. Such an outcome seems dubious, however, when your sworn shield acts like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Let me hold you,” you whisper when he continues to be stiff as a rock in your embrace. “You don’t have to pay me. Surely you know that you don’t have to–”

He moves, and at first you fear he’s about to rise and dart to the door. Make a run for it and slam it shut because you pushed it too far, his dumb, danger seeking maiden. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he turns around and buries his face somewhere in your neck. He does it so forcefully that you’re almost sent to lie on your back, and you barely catch the naked pain in his eyes before a rough arm snakes itself around your waist and pulls you close.

Warm breaths hit your skin, sending all the little hairs in your body shooting up – were he to move an inch further down, his face would be buried in your tits…

And then come the tears.

You’ve never heard a man cry like that – well, you’ve never heard a man cry at all. You didn’t even know they knew how to weep. It’s like all the tears in the world are reserved for women and children because there’s no wetness even now: your knight cries in thick, dry sobs, shudders that shake the both of you, years and years of suffering sighed through gritted teeth and into your hair.

Slowly, so slowly, you place your arm around him once more. Your hand barely reaches the middle of his back, so vast is this man, now only a crumbling mountain in your embrace. But when you won’t waver, when you refuse to turn your tail and run, he slowly melts in your arms like spring snow.

He still breathes as if in pain, the sounds that come out of his mouth heartbroken and strained. You’re not surprised to see that even his crying is an act of violence; he’s a man inconsolable. 

And yet, you console him. Comfort him. Like a mother, you stay and let him cry his fill in your ear as he clutches you, threatening to tear the back of your poor cotton blouse while doing it.

When he’s done, the shakes recede and his body is warm and calm, soft, almost. He pants and swallows, comes down from it with so much shame that you’re sure he has never done this with anyone, not ever before.

And then…

“I beg for your forgiveness, my lady,” he gruffs on your skin. “That was–”

“Shh... It’s alright.”

You caress the back of his neck, sweaty from the toil. He releases the fabric of your blouse only to grab it again in an even tighter fist. The face in your neck is buried deeper, his lips now pressed right over your throat.

“It has always been you, Geliebte... God knows it has always been you.”

You freeze in the middle of his confession, the panting on your skin intolerably thick now. When you swallow against his mouth, he pulls you against him, the body that used to be rigid and cold now like a hot, thick furnace, threatening to devour yours.

“You must know it too,” he whispers. “You must. You’ve seen my torment. Tell me you’ve seen it…”

He’s not demanding more than he is desperate, some dam suddenly being breached by a long-held flood.

If anything, you thought he hated you... You thought you were alone in your anguish, but it turns out he has carried the same soft secret all these years.

And it drowns you for a moment, his want and yours. Hands trying to touch whatever they can, mouth searching yours like he’s about to die if he can’t have a sip. You’ve heard what happens to women who allow themselves to get groped in dark hallways and winding steps; they hardly ever escape a man’s touch with their maidenhood still intact. And yet, this is what you’ve always dreamed of; a hot, blunt, forbidden encounter with this man. 

Now that he’s finally on fire for you, you’re not so sure though. What if you’re about to mate with a beast?

“Sir…” you whisper when he plants trembling kisses down your throat. He thinks you’re only moaning his title in the throes of pleasure, and squeezes you against him so hard that a tight little whimper is squished out of your mouth.

“I’m–I’m untouched,” you tell him before he sends his face between your tits, and it finally has the effect you feared and hoped for.

He freezes too, in the middle of tearing down your blouse. A shivering hand releases the fabric slowly, reverently; it rises to cup your face as your flushed knight meets your stare with shame.

“Of course you are,” he hushes upon your lips, strokes your cheek softly. “I cannot bed you. I know. But let me…”

He blushes while searching for the right words. That’s the moment when you start to suspect if he’s ever even been with a woman. What kind of a womanizer would blush when they’re about to make love to a lady?

“Let me make you feel good,” he finally suggests. “I’ve heard… of a way.”

He almost stutters when he says it, and you wonder if this is what he’s prayed forgiveness for. If he’s been thinking about different ways of wrecking you so much that it’s enough to send him to hell…

“And then,” he continues, “we’ll never speak of this again. You’ll become my lady, and I’ll become your sworn shield once more. We’ll be as we always were. As it always was...”

You’re not sure if you like that – returning to your status quo, becoming who you were before clutching each other on the floor like mad animals about to mate. But you nod. 

Whatever he wishes to do to you, it must be something good, and you trust him. Even after he showed you a side of him you’ve never seen before, you’d trust this man with your life.

Your valiant knight carries you back to bed, and delivers on his promise. He never undresses you, he never defiles you. He just lifts your ankle to his lips and gives it a soft, reverent kiss, grazes your shin with his mouth before starting to worship you like a pagan idol of old.

You don’t know where he heard about it–at the stables, or the kitchen, at the barracks or the taverns–but the way with which he makes you squirm doesn’t require a cock, not even a hand. His lips are gentle, but his mouth is hungry, and you don’t know how to feel shame when he’s buried under your dress like that. You can’t even see his face when he makes you his, claims you with his mouth alone. 

It must be a sin to not take you like a man takes a woman on a wedding night; it must be a sin that it does not hurt at all, what he wants to do to you. But you don’t care. Love is much better and far messier than how they depict it in the songs, and no one ever talks about the noises a man can make when they pleasure a woman.

He groans like a beast, but moans like a whore – it sends a flush of hot blood up your cheeks to hear him so utterly needy and vile. Your knight who barely gave you a grunt as a greeting in your father’s hall now whines with a broken pitch between your legs. His hot sighs drown your own, and you thank Saint Mary and all the angels that there’s loud music and booming laughter downstairs. It’s still there, the dirty tavern, even if you’re being sent to heaven on this bed...

He gives you mercy only after you break upon his mouth with a series of tight cries. Spends a lengthy amount of time under your dress too, licking and kissing you clean.

He doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to get out of there, but when he emerges, he looks like a drowned, happy puppy, this giant, brooding knight… The sight seizes your heart in a flaming hand that you know will never let go: it’s forever engraved in your heart, that drunken, devoted stare. You thought that men had the needs of an animal and that women were put on this earth just for them to have their fill, but when you look at your knight, it appears it’s the other way around... This man has finally found what he was looking for. Between your legs, he just found his Heaven on earth, his Holy Grail.

And so he returns from his quest with a devotion that leaves you breathless. Takes you in his arms like an injured bird, making you feel like it’s summer already, and the world is nothing but songs and tales and long nights of bliss.

“Know that I am yours,” he says. “Until my dying breath and even beyond, I’m yours.”

It’s a pledge, not a statement, and it’s said with so much weight that the vow he swore to your father pales in comparison. 

“Sir... You always say such silly things,” you whisper back while lying in a pool of shimmering love, a heaven on earth indeed. Not even anointed, true to their faith knights talk like this… And he just smiles languidly when you raise a hand to brush his cheek. 

He looks like another hug could save him, like a simple adoring stare from you is all that is needed to keep him going for another year. It irks you that he’s ready to settle for so little when you’re ready to give him everything he’s ever wanted and more. With what just happened, he’ll live on for a thousand, thousand years, he’ll survive even the coldest of nights – but you won’t.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you tell him, and a flash of fresh panic crosses his eyes.

“Süssling…”

He says it with worry, but does nothing when you send an exploring hand to his bulge. Drawing a sharp breath when you sweep your hand over it, he goes rigid again, this time for reasons other than just nervousness.

You’re younger and therefore more impatient, which means you’re at the strings of his pants in no time. He looks at your greed with a slack jaw and a set of furrowed brows, but never tries to prevent you. It only spurs you on that he’s acting so shy in front of an eager maiden when other men would already be bullying their cocks in your unexplored heat.

“This is madness,” he whispers when you pull out the heavy, hard cock that reminds you of the members you’ve seen on horses and bulls. 

Of course the man’s big down there when he’s practically a myth walking… And there must be a way to pleasure him too, some lovely devilry that will leave you a maiden. A virgin for him to take on your wedding night – because you will marry this man, no matter what anyone says. You’ll burn the whole kingdom down before giving yourself to any other man.

You wrap your fingers around him to punctuate it that he’s yours. If he feared you might mirror what he just did to you, he makes no comment about it when you don’t, only whines when his cock is snared by a frail but eager hand.

“Princess,” he warns, slightly out of breath. “I will stain your dress…” 

“Shh. Show me how to please you.”

The worry in his eyes is wild and bright, but the way your fingers mold around him leaves no space for arguments. A broken, stiff sigh is punched out of him when you begin to move: if he won’t show you how, it’s no trouble at all to try and find out yourself. 

But when your thumb sweeps over the weeping tip of him, he finally brings a trembling hand upon yours. He starts to guide you, adjusts your grip, huffs when you both apply pressure on it. The curious creature that you are, you look down to witness the ugly beauty of it all.

It’s intimidating and rough, the cock in your hand... It looks like a weapon, honestly, a battering ram that leaks heady liquid from the head. Smooth and heavy and ripped with veins, it’s like a too hard muscle about to bludgeon something, and your hand is making it drool profusely. Would that it were inside you, you would be in grave danger, and why is it that you find the prospect so seductive?

His hand is far bigger than yours, and it makes your heart run wild, the way he tries to be gentle while using your grip to get himself off. He can’t even keep his eyes open from the shame, just takes a quick glance at your enthralled face before squeezing his eyes shut once more. 

“Look at me,” you command softly, and he obeys – what else can a sworn knight do? – but you can see that the poor man is on the verge of tears. Shaking and panting, he stares at you while fucking himself with your hand, and when you close the small breath of air between you and kiss him, he melts.

The first thick spurt surprises you completely, you even mewl into his mouth when it shoots to stain your dress. You didn’t expect that to happen, at least not so fast… And because this is the first time you’ve seen a man come undone, you quickly leave the panting, moaning mouth and look down. 

There’s so much of it, and the release is so violent; it looks and sounds like it hurts because the man is shuddering and groaning as if stabbed. Thick, white pulses of seed coat the brown wool of your dress, but it soaks the semen gladly: there’s nothing left of his cum other than dark, damp stains after he’s done.

And there’s no end to his shame. He pries your hand away from his cock as soon as he’s somewhat composed. Does it with a shaky hand, wipes what little stains of hot, wet seed you have on your palm to his pants, and all you’re thinking about is what it would feel like to have this giant trembling and groaning like that above you, inside you… If you could even take all of that thick, brutal length. If he would be able to move away when inside your heat, if he’d let you hug him again, just hold him close so that he’d never ever leave anymore…

“I have soiled you,” he mutters while looking at your skirt.

“Nonsense. You have only claimed me... I’m yours now.”

“Princess… No amount of silver–”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

You actually manage to kiss him silent. Tears begin to run down his face when you show him where he belongs. It’s the final surrender as he pulls you into his arms and finally drowns you in love – at last, you find yourself under him as he takes what's his. What seems like hours later, he breaks the kiss, only to look into your eyes with full-blown adoration.

“How am I to live without you after this?” 

“You don’t have to. Not ever,” you say.

“Princess. If there was any hope for me to have your hand, if there was any hope that your father would give it, I would have carried you away from this place years ago.”

For a while, you fear it’s the fear of sin that burns him. But then you realize it was always only just you. 

He looks so anguished now, even more in pain, when all you wanted to do was relieve his agonies. This was only a taste of what he can’t have. You both took a bite of the forbidden fruit but can’t eat the entire thing – no wonder he looks like he’s cast out of heaven he didn’t know even existed.

“Sir, I cannot do this,” you grab his face with both hands now. “Please don’t make me do this...”

He sighs and looks at the mess you just made. He’s broken every oath he’s ever taken, and the evidence is scattered right there between you. The only thing deadlier than this would’ve been if he pumped all of that hot, fluid sin inside you.

“Sweetling,” he laments. “Look at us. You’ve already ruined me. Ruined us both…”

“It’s called love, silly.”

He breathes a short, shy smile, the first you’ve ever seen on him. It’s cute and makes him look young, the quick flash of teeth between unruly lips, the almost bashful, downcast eyes that are not quite ready to meet the full brunt of your devotion.

“Ja,” he breathes. “Ich weiss.”

Then he brings his eyes back to yours, his smile slowly making way for a more serious expression. He lifts a hand to touch your cheek, and you find yourself soaring in the sky like a bird, a phoenix that has risen from the dead. It’s heavenly, the way you both caress each other, here on the lowly tavern’s bed, covered in salt, sweetness and sin.

“Your father will have both our heads if he finds out,” he tells you as if you needed the reminder.

“I pray our heads will never be separated then.”

He snorts a quick smile again. It makes you heady, that you’re apparently the only one who can make this gruesome giant laugh. 

“You’re dangerous, princess,” he gruffs. “I knew you were trouble… And yet I curse all the years I left you in peace.”

“I know,” you smile. “Never the brightest one, my love...”

When you lie in his arms that night and tell him about your silly little fantasies, he grows hard again. When you tell him you now have new ones—ones where you’d want to feel him inside you—he looks like a man condemned to death. 

The stares he shoots your way make it clear that he’s lost – no matter what he says, he can’t be kept away from you, not anymore. You suppose he’ll forsake even more secret promises and vows before forsaking the pledge he swore to you. Even at the cost of your lives, he’ll come scratching at your door, howling for some quick, hot love in the night, begging for you to give him everything he has denied himself. 

And eventually, you grow more serious too. While lying in his arms, safe and tucked away from all the horrors of this world, you play with the leather strings of his gambeson, tugging them and twisting them around your finger like a child.

“There will come a day when they promise me to another,” you whisper, wondering if he’s already asleep. 

He promised to never leave your side again, he promised. And still… What will happen when the carriage and horses take you to some distant, hostile kingdom, far away from him? What if you only get this summer together, and then nothing no more?

“They’ll take me away,” you tell him, almost without a voice. 

A soft, hearty grumble answers, a man who finally knows what he’s fighting for.

“No one will take you away, sweetling. Not as long as I live.”

[sunflowerzyk]

Detrás del depredador - König Híbrido!Oso x lectora [Medieval AU]

Eres una plebeya de familia numerosa, tu vida es de lo más tranquila como lo puede ser para alguien de tu estatus. Hasta que una de las tantas mañanas en las que sales de tu hogar para recolectar frutos de los arbustos en lo más profundo del bosque una flecha atraviesa tu brazo. Tu no lo sabes, pero el dueño es el príncipe König , un híbrido bestia/oso, quien te tomara como su esposa, aunque no lo quieras así.

Capitulo 1!

Capitulo 2! << Siguiente aqui

Contiene: diferencia de edad, perversión, könig Yandere, konig Mayor, Diferencia de altura, obscenidad, dub-noncon, könig posesivo, daño/consuelo, violencia típica del canon, dime si me olvide de alguno.

Si este tipo de contenido no es de tu agrado ignóralo y sigue con tu camino

König es un príncipe, dentro de lo que cabe, un candidato para  ascender al trono de su padre, es  inestable en todo sentido, fue a batallas desde muy joven,. vió morir a sus hermanos y hermanas mayores, al nunca destacar de entre todos ellos nunca fue bien recibido por su padre, incluso ahora, siendo el único vivo junto a un hermano mayor suyo, a könig nunca le interesó el trono en lo absoluto y su incompetencia para generar descendencia lo hacía un candidato inepto ante ojos de todos.

Cualquier mujer que era enviada a sus aposentos siempre era rechazada y en el mayor de los casos, ellas mismas se negaban a ir a su lado,  sin importarles ser decapitadas por rechazar a un príncipe, describen la sensación de estar a su lado como perturbadora y aterradora, un monstruo lleno de rencor y frustración.

Su padre se rindió en intentar conseguir un nieto de su parte y se limitó a suponer que su locura lo mataría.

Por su parte König se mantiene aislado en su habitación cuando está de visita en el castillo de su padre y no en su provincia, salía ocasionalmente para cabalgar por el bosque o cazar alguna pobre criatura que servirá como trofeo.  Un príncipe impredecible por naturaleza, no existía retrato alguno suyo en ninguna parte que indicara cómo lucía detrás de esa espeluznante máscara que siempre usaba fuera de su habitación y quizás también dentro de ella. Habían rumores por todo el pueblo incluso dentro de la servidumbre del mismo palacio, &lt;<'tal vez se desfiguró la cara en alguna batalla' 'él mismo intentó arrancarse su rostro en un arranque de ira' o 'es demasiado feo y vergonzoso para querer mostrarse al público'>>

Nadie preguntaba realmente, eran chismes a voces susurradas. Tampoco es que a König le importará demasiado la poca indiscreción del pueblo y los sirvientes, tarde o temprano ocurriría un terrible accidente que solo afectaría a los que tenían la lengua suelta y confiada.

-

Recién amanecía en el reino, normalmente el ambiente era helado por las noches, aun recién saliendo el sol se sentía la suave brisa helada de todas las mañanas, könig disfrutaba el paisaje tranquilo cuando el sol se ocultaba, el silencio era acogedor y las luces cálidas del pueblo también lo eran.

Dió un suspiro cansado, separó su mirada de la ventana y contempló el cuerpo inerte de aquella mujer extraña para él, con marcas de asfixia alrededor de su cuello, estaba harto, no es que odiara la idea de pasar una buena noche,...solo no así, en lugar de encender sus más profundos deseos, solo se frustra más al presenciar a otra persona frente a él, ver sus inútiles intentos de cotejar y al final rendirse con nerviosismo.

La noche anterior su hermano le regaló una de sus esclavas porque en sus palabras 'Ya tengo demasiadas mujeres en mi harem, es hora de que tengas una propia' con arrogancia y un toque humorístico que claramente le ponía los nervios de punta.

Su hermano mayor sabía perfectamente que él odiaba tener contacto de cualquier tipo con la gente, tenía suficiente con tener que acudir a algunas reuniones del consejo, discutir política y estrategias de guerra. König sabía perfectamente que atrae la atención de todos, hasta cierto punto ayudaban a alimentar su ego, pero tiene totalmente metido en la cabeza que no depende de la aprobación ni la alabanza para saber lo que vale, es un hombre de casi 40 años, le gustaría decir que la edad trae madurez, pero su hermano mayor es una prueba de que no siempre es así.

A pesar de ser el hijo menor de su madre, König tiene la complexión más robusta entre todos sus hermanos, sumado a su gran tamaño era una bestia contenida en un cuerpo de hombre. literal y figurativamente. Su madre era una humana, pero tanto su padre, como sus antepasados y gran parte de sus hermanos, eran híbridos/oso. Cómo su escudo lo indicaba.

Gracias a su físico bien formado se unió a temprana edad al ejercicio, ascendiendo con esfuerzo y determinación. Antes era algo más emocionante hasta cierto punto. Ahora. Incluso su puesto como líder de la guardia real era fastidioso, batallar con los jóvenes era una astilla en la uña del dedo. Siempre quejándose, seres pequeños, débiles, queriendo demostrar ser algo que claramente no son, ya que no fueron tan inteligentes para ser maestros cultos ni tan estúpidos para ser ladrones mendigos; Esos estúpidos jóvenes no estaban hechos para la guerra, pero según las exigencias él debía cambiar eso, estaba a cargo de sus vidas y con ello la de todo el reino. Podría quebrar sus huesos cuanto quisiera para forjarlos como verdaderos hombres. La única parte medianamente reconfortante, podría dejarlos sin un brazo y costillas rotas durante los entrenamientos y nadie diría nada, ya que él es el que manda. Jefe.

König volvió en sí, identificando que había estado mirando al vacío durante algunos minutos, Una ligera sonrisa se formo en su rostro, al notar que había dos sirvientes arrastrando el cuerpo de aquella joven inconsciente fuera de su habitación con la cabeza gacha, casi arrodillados, era de esperarse, todos sabían que quien mirara su rostro perdería los ojos y la lengua. No había una razón en particular para ocultar su rostro, le gustaba mantenerse bajo el anonimato y así causar más terror en las demás personas, eso le divertía, ver sus cuerpos temblorosos del pavor.

La puerta de su habitación se cerró con lentitud, la sonrisa de su rostro se borró cuando escuchó unos pasos aproximándose.

— Apropos Teufel.

Exhaló con irritación, tomando la máscara a su lado y colocándola en su lugar nuevamente, dejando solo a la vista sus ojos color azul rey, fríos como el hielo, casi inexpresivos. Cuando los pasos se hicieron más pesados supo que su hermano estaría furioso después de ver a aquella criada inconsciente, arrastrada por los sirvientes.

Un empujón fuerte retumbó por todo el pasillo y la habitación. Ahí estaba él, su hermano mayor, Alexander, Con su cuerpo tenso, el ceño fruncido, esa característica media sonrisa arrogante y narcisista típica suya. Se quedaron viendo unos momentos, hasta que Alexander apartó la mirada, inspeccionando la cama, estaba totalmente ordenada, su ceño se frunció aún más, no había encontrado lo que buscaba.

— Eres realmente quisquilloso König

Gruñó con diversión, claramente no le importaba una mierda aquella esclava, solo quería hacerlo pasar un mal rato.

— ¿Ni siquiera esa puta extranjera fue capaz de mover tus entrañas?. Eres fuerte, yo no la hubiera dejado de follar hasta el amanecer.

König se quedó ahí en silencio, desviando la mirada de su hermano, levantando su gran figura lejos de la ventana, dirigiéndose a la puerta.

Alexander se tensó  , flanqueando su compostura despreocupada de antes, con esa tonta sonrisa.

König se detuvo a solo unos  centímetros de distancia, mirando a Alexander desde arriba, la diferencia de tamaño era abismal entre ambos, posiblemente genética, o por la ansiedad de könig que le provocaba un hambre insaciable de pequeño, más los duros entrenamientos y castigos físicos a los que su padre lo sometia por ser un bebé llorón que no salía nunca de detrás del vestido de su madre, buscando protección y consuelo.

Inclinó su cabeza hacia abajo, tomando el hombro de Alexander con una de sus enormes manos llenas de cicatrices, estrujando la carne, músculos y huesos debajo de ella. Se acercó lo suficiente para susurrar a su oído.

— Merezco algo mejor que una esclava,  es un trofeo que no me gane por mis propios medios.

Soltó con arrogancia y severidad, disfrutando de la impotencia que su hermano mayor estaba experimentando. Era bien sabido que Alexander nunca estaba presente en las guerras, siempre dirigía desde la comodidad de su carpa, könig era quien se encargaba del trabajo sucio, comandar y pelear por sus tierras. Alexander Solamente era solapado por su padre, un poco hombre de más de 50 años que solo se encargaba de firmar uno que otro papeleo en su provincia, tenía todo asegurado en la vida. Era débil. Y König disfrutaba al recordarselo de manera indirecta, como moviendo un cuchillo en círculos sobre la misma herida, abriendo más la carne y haciéndolo sangrar sin matarlo por completo.

König dejó de hacer presión en el hombro de Alexander al escuchar algunos quejidos de dolor, y el rostro de su hermano al rojo vivo, seguramente había dejado moretones que no se quitarían hasta después de una semana. Le dio una ligera reverencia a Alexander, lo rodeó y salió de la habitación, dejándolo con un sabor agridulce en la boca. Ante todo era su próximo rey.

König caminó por los pasillos con normalidad, con orgullo, toda la semana había sido una mierda, el regreso de la guerra lo dejó con adrenalina en su sistema, deseaba sacarlo, Incluso considero aceptar a aquella esclava dentro de su cama, pero toda curiosidad por saber acerca de ello callo por los suelos, al ver a esa mujer con una sonrisa arrogante en sus labios, juzgandolo descaradamente con la mirada, sin una pizca de decencia en su ser, se acercó incómodamente a él sin preguntar, tocándolo y dejando rastros de su saliva en su clavícula. Asqueroso. A König le pareció repugnante, pero decidió hacerlo divertido, al menos para él.

Tomó a la mujer del cuello y apretó ligeramente, la mujer gimió tan fingidamente que le revolvió el estómago, incluso sintió lástima por ella.

Sonrió debajo de la máscara y apretó más fuerte. La mujer sonrió incómodamente, jadeando por el aire. Pero König no se detuvo, siguió fortaleciendo su agarre alrededor de su cuello, mirandola indiferencia; la mujer entró en pánico, dejando de sonreír, desapareciendo esa fachada de confianza que tenía hace unos segundos. Se retorció, arañó con fuerza y pateó, todo inutil, incluso comenzó a llorar mientras su rostro pasaba de un rojo a un morado por la falta de aire. Y se desmayó.

Él deseaba el toque de una mujer, realmente lo hacía, tuvo una que otra 'experiencia'  cuando era más jóven, un aventura corta con alguna plebeya de los reinos que visitaba en incluso algunas nobles, pero todo acabó más temprano que tarde, se volvió parte de la guardia real, tenía más deberes encima, no recordaba la última vez que había tocado a una mujer.

Ahora cruzaba por los mediados de sus 30, era viejo, sin hijos, comenzó a odiar el contacto con los demás después de pasar años rodeado por viseras, excremento y huesos. Cada vez que estaba cerca de alguien no paraba de recordar la piel putrefacta, roída por los gusanos ,el terrible olor que desprendían los cuerpos enemigos cuando eran quemados.

En casi el final de su largo camino hacia los establos, König escuchó pasos acercarse a él, nunca bajaba la guardia, y a veces lo odiaba, tal vez así sus oponentes serían más interesantes.

Siguió caminando, necesitaba cabalgar un poco, tal vez cazar un venado para disminuir el estrés y divertirse.

— Señor.

Espetó su compañero de armas más cercano, Krueger.

— Kruger.

Murmuró de manera formal, girándose con las riendas de su caballo ya en mano

— Nadie me informó que saldría a cabalgar, hubiera ordenado que alistaran su caballo.

— No pensaba hacerlo

— Disculpe?

— Acompáñame.

Ordenó con una leve sonrisa, caminando al lado de su corcel hacia la salida del establo.

Krueger se quedó ahí unos segundos, solo pensando, dió un suspiro pesado medio divertido y alistó su propio caballo también, no regresarian en un buen rato, no hasta que su señor descargará toda su frustración en las pobres criaturas del bosque. Y él estaría ahí para evitar que se lanzará por el acantilado más cercano. Sin él.

Las cabalgatas con el príncipe/líder könig consistían en guardar silencio, contemplar el alrededor, disfrutar el paisaje, pero no lo suficiente para bajar la guardia por completo. König disfrutaba el silencio, estar lejos de las personas, lejos de su padre moribundo y su hermano.

Pero nunca , nunca podía faltar un trofeo de esa expedición, odiaba sentir que había perdido el.tiempo, aunque así fuera. Debía regresar por lo menos con un venado, o un jabalí atravesado y desangrado gracias a sus flechas.

Esta vez no sería la excepción, su padre seguramente morirá en unos pocos días, debía llevar algo bueno para la ceremonia.

König permaneceria como líder de sus tropas,  era experimentado y fuerte. No podrían reemplazarlo de ninguna manera pero si lo llegaran a intentar, deberían estar listos para un baño de sangre.  Alexander no deseaba poner en contra de sí mismo a sus guerreros y las tropas, no quería provocarlos, al menos no era un completo idiota como para hacer una estupidez de esa magnitud, pensó könig.

Todo estaba medianamente silencioso, a excepción de los pájaros y el viento chocando contra toda superficie..... Y algo más.

Se escuchaban pisadas ligeras y movimientos sutiles entre los arbustos, un animal debía estar escondido, könig preparó su arco y sus flechas. Disparó.

Un venado salió despavorido de entre los arbustos, comenzando a correr, con una rasgada en el lomo que probablemente causó su flecha disparada a ciegas. Inmediatamente Krueger y König comenzaron a cazar a la criatura, definitivamente era una buena presa para la ocasión, y sería suya.

El venado brinca, se escabulle y esquiva las flechas, la naturaleza de esa parte del bosque era frondosa y lúgubre, hasta cierto punto inquietante, su suelo era irregular, siendo un poco complicado seguirle el paso al animal.

La persecución los llevó a un claro rocoso lleno de arbustos con frutos pequeños comestibles.

Finalmente lograron alcanzar al animal, König apuntó con su arco y flecha,  con el caballo en movimiento y disparó de nuevo. La cercanía fue tal que la flecha atravesó el cuello matando al animal y siguiendo su camino con gran velocidad.

No esperaba escuchar un chillido tan agudo después de presenciar que el ciervo caía al suelo con el cuello perforado, pero lo hizo, hubo un grito, una persona. Krueger y él se quedaron en silencio al escuchar los gemidos de dolor y angustia mezclados con pequeñas maldiciones. König se quedó ahí en su caballo, krueger por su parte desmontó y caminó hacia los arbustos sin vacilación alguna,  observo a la criatura por unos segundos, mientras sollozaba para después tomar su brazo y arrastrarla fuera de su escondite.

Konig miro la situación en cámara lenta, tu pequeña figura fue arrastrada para que él te pudiera ver mejor, no podías hacer mucho para negarte, solo te quejabas mordiendo tus labios y lengua, estabas sufriendo, eso era obvio pero eso le hizo sentirse emocionado. Excitado.

Se Quedó totalmente petrificado, mirando tu cuerpo tembloroso y llorosos, con una flecha atravesada en tu brazo izquierdo, estabas sangrando, te examinó de arriba abajo, tu cuerpo, eras demasiado pequeño en comparación suya, en realidad todos lo eran, si así eras de pequeña en comparación a su forma humana se imaginaba lo diminuta que serías con él en su forma más animal; despreciaba a los seres más débiles hasta cierto punto, pero viéndote a ti sintió que debía mantenerte y cuidarte, protegerte. Su mirada se detuvo unos instantes sobre tus senos, luego entre tus piernas y volvió a subir su mirada.

Mirabas el suelo, intentando ocultar tus lágrimas de dolor, forcejeando débilmente contra el agarre de Krueger. Solo se escuchaban pequeñas súplicas saliendo de tus labios temblorosos, buscando consuelo y ser liberada.

— ¿Qué demonios?

Se escucho entre tus tantos murmuros y maldiciones mientras levantabas la mirada para identificar a el idiota que había enterrado una jodida flecha en tu brazo.

Tan pronto como tus ojos llenos de lágrimas enfocaron la enorme figura frente a ti las palabras se quedaron atoradas en tu garganta, tus labios se secaron como si hubieras pasado sin agua varios días.

Un gigante. Montado en su caballo color negro como la noche, vestía como hombre de la alta sociedad con toques barbaros, armadura,  piel de animal sobre su espalda, postura imponente y.... Oh. Una máscara perturbadora.

— Carajo

Lograste maldecir en un murmullo.

— Cuida tu lenguaje

Exige aquel gigante con la voz severa, pero con una pizca de elegancia que, reafirmaba tu teoría, debía ser un hombre con una gran educación, a pesar de ser tan aterrador. Mandó un escalofrío por todo tu sistema, e inmediatamente cerraste la boca y desviaste la mirada hacia un lado, buscando no ser irrespetuosa, por más encabronada que estés y quién se halla equivocado fuese aquel gigante, en el fondo sabías que podrías tener consecuencias peores.

Gracias al miedo y adrenalina casi habías olvidado por completo la flecha en tu brazo, la miraste de reojo y el dolor comenzó de nuevo a invadirte, regresando las lágrimas que picaban tus ojos para salir.

könig estaba teniendo un ataque de ansiedad, una sensación que pensó que había superado, agradece llevar la máscara, o seguramente se notaría su frustración y el nerviosismo al tensar su mandíbula; apretó los estribos de su caballo, mirando tu pequeña y figura patética desviando la mirada ¿Porque lo habías hecho? ¿Era tan horrendo a tu mirada que ni siquiera podías verlo? Él podría perdonar tu falta de cuidado al hablar, pero no perdonaría que no lo mires cuando claramente está exigiendo tu atención. no lo perdonaría. Te daría un castigo. Con una buena excusa.

Bajó de su caballo en un abrir y cerrar de ojos, le bastaron tres pasos para llegar hasta donde estabas, tomar la flecha que llevabas en el brazo y quebrarla a la mitad, sin sacarla, eso te hizo abrir la boca para protestar y dar un grito desgarrador, pero antes de eso puso su mano en tu boca, para ahogar tus demandas, y te alzó en brazos.

No planeaba dejar a una criatura tan vulnerable y débil como tu en ese lugar, para empezar, ¿Porque estabas ahí? No tenías más de 24 años, tus ropas estaban desgastadas. Tan expuesta a que una bestia como él te viera y tomará como su pequeño juguetito nuevo, uno que se encargaría de usar a la perfección y con cuidado(tal vez).

Lloriqueaste contra su mano en tu boca durante unos momentos, las lágrimas caían por tus mejillas, y eso lo hacía sentir aún más extraño, un calor doloroso se formaba en su entrepierna, el deseo de tomarte ahí mismo, y provocar tus llantos aún más.

Pero no era lo suficientemente animal(aún) como para tomarte ahí inmediatamente , podría esperar; tu herida podría infectarse y estarías muerta al anochecer, no quería eso.

Regresó a su caballo y lo montó, contigo en brazos, liberando por fin tu boca, ya no llorabas ni gritabas, solo dabas pequeños suspiros temblorosos,  el dolor fue tal que te desmayaste.

El simplemente no pudo evitar sentirse aún más extraño, te veías casi adorable, tu nariz y mejillas teñidas de rosado, acompañado de tu ceño ligeramente fruncido por el dolor, quería ver que otra caras eras capaz de hacer, específicamente debajo de él.

— Señor, Tengo el ciervo...... Ya es hora de irnos.

Se escuchó a krueger hablar en algún lugar, König estaba demasiado hipnotizado memorizando tus rasgos que fue suficiente para que Krueger haya recogido el cadáver del ciervo y montarlo en el caballo.

— ja... Gut, vamonos.

Murmuró apartando finalmente la vista de tu rostro y parte de tu cuerpo, tomando las riendas y emprendiendo el regreso al castillo.

Su bestia interior estaba ansiosa por salir a la luz, quería probarte, su pequeño trofeo, el mejor de todos.

A/N: Sinceramente, siempre he querido encontrar este tipo de fanfic con König, ¡y lo he hecho! Pero no parece haber ninguno en mi lengua materna, así que aquí estamos. Los reblogs me ayudan muchísimo para que pueda crear más contenido, ¡muchas gracias por leer!

[fl3shm4id3n]

Just imagine in a fantasy/medieval AU. Where you're a princess of some kind and Konig is the executioner, who falls in love with you and you fall for him.

[martuzzio]

The King only in name

Check out more Medieval 141 here

[itsagrimm]

Writing Castles and Palaces

Every once in a while I see reverences of castles in writing with stories set there and characters frolicking through castle gardens. As someone growing up in a region with a castle on basically every bigger hill and at every corner, I would like to offer my support how to write stories in Castles and castle-like buildings:

Pick a place

Depending on the region and time the story is set in, the castle and its conditions will look very different. Castles or fortified buildings with some military or representative value are a near global phenomenon. So it's important to think of a place to set the castle in: is it a castle from Europe like the Tower of London? Is it a Castle like the one in Osaka, Japan? Maybe a fort in Africa like the Cairo Citadel or Chapultepec Castle in Latin America?

2. Pick a time

Castles changed a lot in their appearance depending on the time frame they are set it. In Europe the early medieval castles had a high military value and were an expression of feudal power. That meant those castles were not build to be comfortable but primarily military bases. Later post-medieval castles function more as representative palaces yet often get called Castles in English as well. Those types of Palace-castles tend to be more liveable but also often lack the militaristic purpose. Outside of Europe the time of the castle build also matters a lot. Is it a castle build by Locals? Is it Europeans with an imperial intend? Or is it some rich guy replicating a castle on his private island?

3. Pick a function

As aforementioned Castles changed a lot during time and space they are set in. But they also look very differently depending on their function. If it's a prison or holding a vault the Castle will look more intimidating and there will be very little regard for its living conditions except for possible guards or high value prisoners. If it's a military installation it will hold more comfortable living quarters for personnel as well as more workers to maintain the fighting force. And if it's a representative building like a kings castle then there will be a lot of pomp and splendor like elaborate decorative gardens, various buildings with entertainment purpose, plenty of nice living space for the higher class, and living quaters for the personnel. Obviously functions can overlap - a military castle can also serve as a prison, a representative Palace can also include military installations. If those functions are combined they affect the appearance and liveability of the castle so that needs to be kept in mind when writing those.

Medieval European Castles

To show you how time, space and function impact a castles conditions, I'll stick to European Castles bc that's what I know most about and bc I know those castles and can describe their feel.

A military Castle

Altdahn: build in the 13th century in Palatina-Rhine as part of the defense for the Diosese of Speyer. It is part of a group of castles surrounding the town of Dahn. The castle saw military action several times, got burned, rebuild and adapted a lot during its time of use. It also served as a family manor for the von Dahn family line however they relocated in the 15th century into a more liveable palace. Like most military Castles Altdahn had 2 courtyards and a belfry tower. Also it's always very cool up there in the rooms with wind and the massive stones making it very unpleasant to be in for a longer period. Since glass was expensive, it's likely than not all rooms had proper windows so in plenty of rooms it would have been cold or dark from closed window shutters. Living there must have been hell, especially in winter. So those who had the misfortune to be there all the time must have dressed up very warmly and likely picked every chance to get down into the town or were able to invest in the expensive logistics of constantly carrying up firewood up there as well as opting for expensive carpets and tapestry to add warmth. (picture below)

A prison Castle

Fort Königsstein: Most of its time in service the fort was used as a garrison, prison and vault due to being situated on a plateau high above the surrounding area. The fort is far away from bigger cities like Dresden and used to be somewhat isolated in the mountains before the building of modern infrastructure. It went through several changes over time to make it more palace like and nicer to live in. However, even the cultivated forest on the fort plateau served as a reserve in case of siege; the bleak stone walls and the massive entrance complex make the forts purpose as a militaristic and isolating prison abundantly clear. Königstein was known as an infamous prison during the reign of the Saxon kings and even after the end of the kingdom of Saxony in 1922 the fort held prisoners of war up until the end of WW2 in 1945. Depending of the part of the castle the feeling is pleasant to isolating and cold due to the wind and the thick stone walls. Also walking there from the next bigger settlement takes a while. (picture of Königsstein below)

A Palace-Castle

Castle Schwerin: While some form of fortification existed on this spot since the the 9th century as part of a Sorbian settlement, the castle in its now existing form hardly passes as a pragmatic military fortification. Remodelled from 1844 to 1857 it served as the main residence and representative Palace for the Mecklenburgian dukes and Grand-dukes. The Castle is in the middle of the town Schwerin and surrounded by grand gardens. Its previous fortified outer walls have been mostly removed. The Castle still has a courtyard and towers. Yet those do not serve any primary logistical or military purpose. The castle rooms were regularly lived in by the duke's family and serve now as the local parliament halls. It's very pleasant and warm inside with the castle being a more modern build and not as exposed to the elements. The throne room and ministerial offices were within the castle. The building includes enough space to house not just the family and its servants but also higher guests, their entourage and castle guard. The castle feels fairytale-eske because it's supposed to as a rich and pleasant representative residence for the feudal family right in the middle of the city. (picture Castle Schwerin below)

Honourable mentions of European Castle types and similar buildings:

Hunting castles - serve no purpose except to house hunting parties.

Fortified Churches - a Church that doubles as a military sanctuary in times of (medieval) need.

Monasteries - were sometimes fortified.

Villas and Manors - depending on the build they serve similar functions as castles. Often excluded when using the label of castle.

[sundaygirl1111]

Der König

[bucca2]

to my new followers: I’m glad you’re here!! I do reblog a lot of cod content but this is like, my variety blog. I appreciate y’all a lot but if you only want updates to the story then feel free to get added to the tag list instead I won’t be offended <3

[ghouljams]

King König: marry me pls

Gardener Leibling: no

It's a constant refrain. Sometimes you think he asks just to hear you say no to him. No one else tells the king "No", no one dares to even utter the word. You're free to sit in his bed, soft linen sheets pooling around your hips as you pick over the recent requests for different flowers in the garden. The papers brought precisely to the king's suite, and not your little hovel. You should be more annoyed that your papers are being sent to König's rooms and not to your home, but it is rather convenient.

König drags his fingers up and down your spine, the rough calloused skin against your own much softer figure makes you want to squirm away. You hold you ground, as you always do. You don't have to pay him any more attention than you want, but you still find him consuming your awareness. You know he's still laying against the pillows, know that he has an arm under his head, know that he watches you like a hunter watches their prey. You know too that his chest is covered in scratches, hidden under dark hair, and that if you decided to abandon your work for another round of pleasure he would not deny you.

"You'll have a secretary to do that if we marry," König offers. You huff, dip your quill in the ink pot precariously balanced on the bed beside you, and make a quick note in the margins of the request letter to look into seed vendors.

"I enjoy my work," You remind him, "and I don't want to marry you."

"I'm not asking Liebling," He tries, his hand splaying wide on the small of your back.

"And I don't care," You tell him as firmly as you think necessary, "I'm not interested."

His hand leaves you with a sigh, you almost miss it, he's trying to make you miss it. "You're so cruel to me," König hums. You hear the rustle of fabric as he sits up. Your hand darts to keep the ink pot from tipping over, raising it off the duvet you twist and settle it on the bedside table. König's turns you back towards him, his fingers holding your chin tight. He tips his head, studying you. "Marry me," he implores. You give him a bored look.

"No."

"Tyrant," He smiles, leaning in to kiss you, you turn so he catches the corner of your mouth, and feel his teeth as his smile widens, "You'd make a perfect queen."

"I'd be bored to death," You reason.

"Oh Liebling," König coos, "I'm sure something else would kill you first."

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild (emperor!Konig x fem!Reader)

A day after you and Konig's wedding. Who knew that evil emperors could be so romantic. Tags and TWs: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, loss of virginity, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator Word count: 3256 AO3

— Lift your hips up, princess. You don’t want to waste my seed. 

You whimper, trying to get your legs down, so he can’t force you to spread them anymore – but you feel the hot seed getting back in the swell of your well-used maidenhood, and it makes you whimper only more. What a woeful sight indeed – a fake princess crying over having to take the seed of the strongest person in the whole continent. You know a thousand of women who would beg for an opportunity to have the Emperor’s hands on their hips, guiding them down to admire the look. You know that the real princess – your princess – would never agree to this ordeal, no matter the begging and the bribery. So, you don’t agree too. — In m…my culture, a bride should wait at least a month after the marriage before the…conception, Your Majesty. 

You lie through gritted teeth like it could change anything. Like it could magically force all the seed from your womb to the ground again, to the silk of the sheets under you. Like the mere tradition that you gave birth to the idea of a minute ago would stop you from being König’s breeding mare. Still, you refuse to lift your hips, a small resistance that puts a small chuckle to his lips. He is amused by you – or your stupidity. Princesses are supposed to be spoiled and bratty, right? Yours certainly was. 

— Does your culture also make the bride lie to her husband? 

You lick your lips, forcing them closed. No another quick witty word from you – your lies already got you on the edge of…something. After König announced he knew who you were this entire time, he got you on your back, on your belly, with your hips up and down, your head silly from lack of air as he choked you until you begged for your life – only for him to kiss you over and over. Feeding your womb with his seed until there was a bump, not giving any chance that the baby wasn’t there yet. If anything, he conquered your body the same way he did your country – and left your bruised hips as a reminder. The handprinted bruises covering your skin like the finest fabrics of the gown he got you. 

— If you wish to order me dead, your majesty. 

— Death doesn’t mean anything here, meine Liebe. 

— Then banish me. For the lies and the betrayal of a royal…

He laughs – it’s a nice sound, still, something in your deprived mind likes the way you make him laugh and chuckle. Something in your head makes you feel as dizzy as you did when he cut off the air in your throat, every time that cold eyes of his look at you with warmth. heated obsession, whatever that is – you refuse to believe it was genuine, as you were borrowing your princess’s identity, but now, when he laughed and spoke about his true intentions, you weren’t sure if a pathetic and lowly lady-in-waiting is as safe in you as you thought.

— If being as stupid as you are is a punishable crime, then I’d finalyl have a good reason to kill off most of my harem. He laughs again, a hand in your hair – getting out all of the fancy pins and bows and dead flowers that were forced to be held in your crown and on your head. You groan in pleasure as the pins scraping your scalp are finally removed – and try to get back at his hand immediately when he comes to squeeze your breasts again. Not for any reason – simply because you happened to have the aspects of your body that he could touch. 

— Would be much safer to get a woman from a harem, sir. Not…not me. 

— And if I wanted just you? 

König looks at you – trembling, loved out completely. Covered in his marks, as many bites as a princess could take. Even being a servant, you’re almost as gentle and reserved as a real deal – but gods, if you weren’t the cutest thing he ever saw in that damned ugly country of yours. Hating nobility as much as he hated speaking to his troops not as their commander, König never particularly enjoyed the idea of having to marry some bitchy royal daughter…you, however, were the loophole in the god’s contract. A gift, just for him. 

— Your council would make me disappear for deceiving you in the first place. 

— No one would dare to leave the empire without heirs. 

— You could have another one. There are plenty of princesses out there, Your Highness. 

— And I don’t have enough patience to entertain you trying to sell me the idea of your freedom. Do you know what relief I felt when you were the one to meet me? 

You don’t answer, instead prompting to just listen. You have good ears for listening – for allowing others to talk, so you wouldn’t be made to fill in awkward silences. König loves that and appreciates that. Finally, someone who can just be silent – even if he also has nothing to say, at least you’re scared and angry enough to dismiss him anyway. At least your unwillingness is making him less awkward at participating in the conversation. 

— You knew who I was all along? 

— Princesses are pampered. Even the poorest kingdom would never have a princess with hands as hard-working as yours, Schatz. 

He takes his hands in yours – no matter the healing creams you rubbed in them, no matter the lack of actual physical labor, even the smallest tasks you performed for the princess, the tiniest exposure to cleaning supplies that would make the toughest skin crack, left a small traces in the skin of your palm. Fingers with clean nails – short, practical, indicating the need to have your hands in working order all of the time. Indicating your lack of a servant who would do everything – opening buttons on clothes, embroidery, and washing oneself’s body. indicating that you were said servant. 

You look embarrassed that he pointed that out. Scared, almost. 

— Are my hands too ugly for you, sir? 

He can see the tremble in your fingers. He traces them with his – large, calloused hands keeping you in place. Rough skin and multiple ridges of scars over the darkened skin made you shiver from the contrast of the sensation – those are the hands of a ruler who isn’t afraid of taking a sword in his hands. Who almost got his arms chopped off for this altogether. 

Then – he kisses them. 

One finger at a time, every ridge and bump in your skin deserves a graze of emperor’s teeth as he tugs on rough skin around your knuckles. Your hands are soft, softer than a normal maid would have – but changed from the work you had to put. Every kiss and lick doesn’t make them gentle, doesn’t remove the experience you had – in braiding hair, in washing clothes, in cleaning up after a royal mess. It doesn’t change who you were, but with every little praise he whispers – crude language, really, but the affection in his words scares you more than any foreign insult could – with every toss of his lips over your palms, he is changing who you are. Who will you become in just a week or two. 

He calls your hands beautiful – in North tongue, with a smile on his face. König loves to explore, and your body is a beautiful place for him to be. Your hands are the best place he could have been in the morning. 

Some historians are already saying he has done more to this country than any other ruler ever could. But oh, the emperor knows that the most important thing he did here was kiss your fingers. Over and over. 

You snap your arms back when he finally breaks down, starting to bite – the softer skin of your palms falling victim to his sharp teeth. Emperors aren’t supposed to have sharp teeth but for all he knows, he was born from a dog and raised by one. A wolf in wolf’s clothing. 

— Your hands belong to an empress. 

— Thought I was a regent. 

— You are, mein Schatz. Can’t trust you with a country, ja? 

You laugh, but there are tears in your eyes. Loss of whatever authority you could have as the princess's personal maid – her friend if he knew anything about royals and their habits. Scheisse, he was the emperor for 10 long years and still didn’t get a hang of it. Might be something he had to be born with – such a shame, really. Should have told his mother to never give birth to a rat that would usurp the throne once out of the crib. 

He loves to see you weak, trembling like this – like a proper bride should. Like a real princess, the one whose manners should be enough to fool the people and the dumbest of his court. The smartest ones could always agree to put their tongues up their behinds – if they don’t want to get their heads chopped off by his blade, without even bothering an executioner to do it. 

— But you can trust me with your children?

— This empire needs an heir. As much as I can rule forever. 

— No one is immortal. 

— Ach. Did Sebastian forget to visit you before the wedding, little princess? 

He is mocking you, again and again – he laughs with death and you hate it, you hate yourself, you loathe him and his laughs and his crooked smile and the scars covering his skin and…he kisses your hands again, then – dips your hands up in that mask of his. Lets you feel the skin, involuntarily trace your fingertips all over everything hidden – you touch his teeth, his fangs, and you gasp in shock. So, the monster has lips. So, the monster has thin lips and wet mouth, and he dips his tongue all over the traces of knuckles and…

König knows you’d never agree to be his in a way that he wants you too – but this is fine. He can work you around. He can break you. He can please you. What a wonderful job would this be. 

— Your court would soon find out I’m not the one. 

— They know how to keep their mouths shut. You would, however, have to deal with my harem personally. 

— Did you intended to add my princess to your harem too? 

— If I knew that you wouldn’t take her place? Of course. I never visited the place for the exact reason I didn’t bother to find your patron. 

— Are you really satisfied with the scraps? 

Oh, his poor, dumb girl – he was feeding off scraps since he was ripped away from his mom’s tit. You were the only fancy meal he ever liked in his life – and gods, if he wouldn’t give up anything to taste you again. 

On the other side, however, he can do just that. 

König dips his head down, the traces of his hood laying on your labia. You whimper. 

— I never ate anything as exquisite as you, little princess. 

— I’m n…why do you keep calling me this? 

— You will be my princess. Forever trapped on my lap, on the floor, chained to my throne like a…

With each word, his tongue laps on the glossiness of your lower lips. He gives your maiden a little kiss all over, he digs down like it’s a fancy meal indeed – the scrawny hairs of his stubble make you whimper every time they graze your clit. König has a fleeting thought of eating his cum out of your poor, sore body – that it wouldn’t be wise, that it would make the process of impregnating you slower. Then, he thinks – he can just fill you up with his seed later. And in the evening. And tomorrow. 

He pushes his tongue down, deep – you gasp, you get your hands on his hood, not trying to tear it apart, but laying there like a scared maiden. You were one – you are one, after all. Gods, he could just keep you here forever if it weren’t for the country needing its empress. 

König kisses you all over – you’re still smelling like rose water, like fragrances that were forcefully rubbed on your skin right before the wedding. A proper lady, you were bathed in salts and oils like a kitchen in poor man’s soup – but weren’t you looking beautiful in that dress of yours. Too bad he had to rip it eventually, stepping on it accidentally quite a few times as he was getting you water. Your little trick with the herb did make you thirsty in all possible ways. 

You don’t know a lot about royal weddings, but you’re pretty sure that the emperor shouldn’t be sprawled on his giant bed like this, eating you out like you were the roasted lamb served at yesterday’s feast. You moan when the material of his mask is getting tricky with your gentle parts when the rough fabric is scrapping your thighs in a way that is far from arousal – and then he leans in, a head laying on your tummy. Your princess parts are swollen from his actions – and lack thereof. You almost think you could buck your hips up like a… König takes off his hood. 

— Wh…what are y… You don’t master enough words before he is forcing his face against yours before his lips finally lay down on yours properly – and gods isn’t this a beautiful sight. The emperor, the vile conqueror, your biggest enemy, and your husband – smiling like a boy when he got free candy, like a cat who got the cream – like a man so in love, it makes him unable to stop smiling while looking at his wife. 

He isn’t pretty in the sense that some of the rulers can be pretty – he isn’t hideous either. A rough face doesn’t look like something that belongs to a royal family – big nose, small lips, chiseled chin and not a sight of inbreeding. You try to see if his ears are wrong, at least, but they are fine – not caring about a bit of chopped-off bits, probably from old battles. He is rugged and handsome and rough and you hate that red stubble on his chin and his gorgeous ginger hair – if you were forced to see this face every day, you might give up and like him. It’s a good thing he wears the mask most of the time, isn’t it? 

— You don’t like how your emperor looks, little princess? He laughs again, then – cups your face in his hands and kisses you all over. Again and again, his lips fell on yours making you feel dumb, making you feel dizzy and just a bit charmed – like the potion you drank yesterday hadn’t fully worn off. You can taste your own pleasure on his lips and it makes you embarrassed – a proper lady should never enjoy a process as dirty as making love – your lower parts should only exist for him to take pleasure in ruining it, and for you – to birth little princes. 

But König bows down before your lower lips, but König presses his tongue against your special spot again and again, and it makes you wonder if he recites the anthem of the empire on the little swollen bud between your legs – for his actions are filled with devotion that should only be reserved for one’s country, not for just a poor, dumb handmaiden whose only job was to lie and to protect. But…is it really all you want to do now? Just lay here and let him take him, without a chance of enjoying him playing with you if only for just a bit longer? — I…I believe you look fine, Your Majesty. 

— Just fine? 

He smiles and kisses you down there again – the aftermath of your pleasure makes his lips feel too hard on your swollen parts, the climax had taken everything from you left only feelings, as naked and trembling as you are right now – and, by god, if you aren’t feeling like sold and set in pieces. You are selling your dignity right now, the loyalty to your kingdom is getting grazed by each new stroke of his tongue. You close your eyes and moan – for you can’t hold off your pleasure anymore. For you don’t see a reason in trying to pretend you don’t enjoy being treated like a princess after a life of servitude. 

— You are fine for an emperor, my…my husband. You struggle to say it – but you do have to say it eventually, at least in front of the servants. If he isn’t intent on keeping you locked away in a tower, pumping out babies like his little servant – maybe he wouldn’t want to keep you open for the world to take. You were a secluded princess kept in shadows before he discovered you, after all. You served the one, at least. 

— Trying to cover the harsh words with honey, ja? I killed for less, mein Schatz. 

— I assume you won’t kill me before the first son, at least? 

— Wouldn’t kill you even if you’d be barren. I’d rather leave the empire to rot without an heir than choose someone else in your place. 

— That is awful news for your empire. 

— Our empire can rot without you, Meine Liebe. Never wanted the damned crown in the first place. 

— But you’re fine with putting it on the head of a commoner? 

— I was a commoner once. Know better than anyone else that a princess would never make a good wife. 

You never studied his rise to power – the latest politics were hidden from you and the princess, the king never wanted to taint his daughter with such silly things as rising stars of the political arena – and he failed to mention the empire that was once rotting from its head getting a ruler who would take half of the continent and a daughter of every kingdom in his harem as the spoils of war. 

He lays down beside you, taking you in his arms again. his hair flows all around you – he smells like blood, still, even after so many hours spent bathing in your shared musk. You wonder if everything he had done with the forbidden rituals made him like this – face torn and stitched back together again, harsh scars that can only be made from a blade or claws of a giant animal – and he pushes you down to press your face against his chest, taking in the feeling of laying beside your husband. 

— Don’t you have something that needs to be done, Your Highness? 

— The most important thing I need to do is lay between your legs, little princess. And you’re too swollen to be doing that. 

You press your forehead against his chest. Taking it him and the light tan of his skin – you wonder where he could get it, if he almost never took off his armor. His face is as pale as it can be, and it makes him look a little silly when naked – but you refuse to smile and make him angry. — I thought you wanted me to meet your harem. 

— They can wait. We need to give them time to prepare the poison for you, right? 

He laughs and you don’t find anything better to do than to press your head against his chest and close your eyes. The royal visits really can wait until tomorrow.

[comfortless]

I already sent you an ask today so hiiii

(Alright so now I hopefully have your attention, imagine: ancient settling, mercenary könig is made prisoner and enslaved and reader, a cute noble girl, buys him to ☆have fun☆. He doesn't mind at all.)

Have a good day!

anon whoever you are… every message that you have sent has been like you putting a clawing animal in my brain. all of these concepts are so good. sorry it took me a bit to get around to this one. <:•)

captured mercenary! König x noblewoman! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. medieval au (so: gender role nonsense), slightly mean slightly pathetic König, very brief mentions of violence/beheading, masturbation.

“That one.”

You hear yourself speak without thought. Your voice is shy, almost. It’s unbecoming of your station to seem so meek… even as you eye the men lined up before you like cattle prepped for slaughter.

Prisoners, they were. All apart from the one you had chosen would be little more than toys for the executioner after what they’ve done: to think that such a little band of mercenaries would even be planning for a siege… ridiculous. Most of the men have already had their hair cut cleanly away from their necks in preparation for the blade that would be slicing past each vertebrae and layer of muscle to chop away their heads.

This one is saved only because he’s been stripped of his armors, and though his face is rather rugged… there’s strength beneath his skin and such a deep misery in his eyes it sets your chest ablaze with pity. He could be useful, a willing servant if you could only save him from what terrible thing haunts him.

Maybe it’s the old wounds that flare his skin with the raised flesh of scar tissue, perhaps it’s the harelip or the wild thing set between his thighs where he’s forced to kneel. It catches your eye, that last one…

The prisoner’s jaw sets when your finger does point his way, blue eyes narrow just a fraction as realization settles in the pit of his stomach. No freedom to be garnered here, no love, nothing but that blade he had intended to use against you sworn to you instead. If the giant spit at your feet then, it would be expected, welcomed almost with the way your chest roars with sympathy.

He only stares.

You pay off his captors with a few silver coins and watch as they lead him bound to your side. His arms are tied too tightly before him, muscles slack with exertion after trying to fight the ropes for what must have been hours. Whether he sees you as savior or something revolting remains unknown. He doesn’t speak, not even as a servant leads him into the back of your carriage and you step inside after him, holding up the middle of your gown as to not sully it with the dirt and old blood splattered over the stones layered for street.

When the horses begin to move you give the man a proper once over, hiding your smile beneath a handkerchief, free hand curled into the lap of your skirts. He’s not just tall and broad, but incredibly well endowed. Not just sad and downtrodden, but pissed, though the only tell remains his shaking fists. His gaze never meets yours for longer than a moment before it settles back to gaze at the passing tall grass and sheep prancing about the fields, but each time that it does… there is no denying the mixture of confusion, maybe even attraction upon his face.

Your home was something this giant had never had a taste of prior to you: a castle atop a hill, charming and stone with its high ramparts and blunt roof. You didn’t need his confirmation in words, though you do ask and get nothing in turn.

The carriage pulls you right through the gate and it is almost cute the way that this man’s eyes seem to wander as he takes it all in. There are other servants tending to the sheep and horses, the smell of fire and the chiming of blade meeting blade ringing out as men spar, there are cats to keep away pests and modest but cozy homes, a tavern, an inn all beyond the wall. A small city of your own: all for the perfect little noblewoman that you were.

The only thing that you lacked was the trained sword of a man to ensure your safety, and now you had that, too.

You explain to him his place here, the role that he would take for the price you paid as you both disembark from the wooden carriage. He would be fitted for armor donning your family’s crest come the morning, whipped into obedience should he dare raise a hand toward any one here. You even think to warn him of the executioner’s sloppy work, how he may even live with his head chopped only halfway off should you request it…. some horror you had heard one of the travelers speak of.

As the weeks pass, König does begin to settle immensely. His speech is disjointed and parsed, his mother tongue muddled with your own language in a way that is cute… terribly, horribly cute.

He’s intelligent and strong: spends much of his time out amongst the lower men aiding with the animals and teaching them the deft way he swings his blade. It is an art form in its own right, the way that he paints the air with swift strokes… For a woman to fawn over a man’s swordplay was absurd, but it was impossible not to enjoy when he taunts and jabs the way that he does.

He rarely wears that armor the blacksmith crafted for him, both a flattery and an insult. You don’t mind watching him best smaller men in solely his trousers, pressing their faces into the muck while he barks his insults to them in words they can not understand. To you, now, when he flashes the most beastly of grins in your direction and utters the words, “Verpiss dich.”

You aren’t even certain why you stand there rather than hissing out orders to have him taken away. Your stupid corset feels too tight, gown too small, and your chest aches. There's not been a thing you could do to have this man do more than simply tolerate you. He sleeps within his own room in the castle, eats his fill and then some, you talk to him and layer your words with praise. He has not once been punished for anything. Not even now.

“Come here,” you demand without thought, walking down the staircase to cross the yard with your hands balled into delicate fists at your sides.

Your giant only looks confused for a moment as he clambers off of the man he’s just wrestled to the earth and rights himself. His eyebrows raise, his nostrils flare… and then he laughs. At you like you’re the most puny of rabbits, hardly a threat. Your betters would have laughed too at just how fragile you sound, on the cusp of tears over what? Some ridiculous little crush on a captive soldier??

He eventually does as you ask, stomping over to stand before you- not kneel, he never knelt. If his height and stature were meant to intimidate… your god would have to forgive the thoughts that muddle your head then, like filthy water as you drink him in.

“Was…?”

So you explain to him as best you can just how insolent he’s being, how horribly he repays your kindness, how he would be dead on some shrouded mountain pass or have his body tossed into the river if not for you. You explain your heart out when tears come to your eyes and spring forth as your chittering continues, and you don’t even know if the moron can understand; he only stands there with the wildest grin on his face when he sees you beginning to sniffle and sob.

“Was?,” he demands again, blunt even as he takes your face into one of his large hands, turns your head to brush a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Why are you crying?”

“You need to learn your place!” And you know you’re being a hypocrite, that a proper lady should never allow a man to touch her like this, look at her the way that König does. You should call for a servant to have him dragged through the yard and whipped… or worse, but your voice only comes in a crestfallen whisper.

He shrugs those massive shoulders, rolls his neck and huffs a breath as he gazes down at you before his hand falls to his side and he merely walks away. That’s it.

Though you had the hopes that your warning had been taken seriously, the days following seem even worse.

König abandons his duties and takes up the most horrendous idea of courtship that he can muster. If courtship is even what it could be considered. It is more like a direct taunt, a jab now that he’s been made perfectly aware just how fragile the maiden he was sold to guard is.

He takes liberties once you’ve bedded down each night, your dresses stripped away to be replaced with a plain linen gown with nothing beneath: your only protection in the form of the wooden door between you two because König is no protector.

It always starts with the sound of spitting into his palm, then a drawn out sigh that rises to a near-animalistic groan. Sometimes he speaks, other times the soft, wet sounds rise in tempo until all that comes from his mouth are sharp hisses and whines.

This night proves to be the worst.

The wood creaks under his weight as he leans back against the door, stroking himself to the thought of you behind it. He makes it apparent when he breathes your name, low and shaky as you squeeze your eyes closed and pretend to not hear the words that follow.

“Scheiße… bet you’re tight,” he hisses between his depraved whimpers, the slick sounds increasing even as he rights himself to stand proper. You can almost hear the way he salivates, can almost imagine the way his jaw must fall slack and his eyes go dazed as he pleasures himself… you squeeze your thighs shut.

“Ja… you want it too, huh…” The bastard is most assuredly imagining you, knelt before him with the most helpless, reverent gaze as you plead for him. It should make you ill, yet it only stokes a fire in your belly, one that bridges between rage and need. “Ich will dich ficken…”

Your breath comes to a halt when your hand drifts beneath your thin gown, forcing yourself to listen as he brings himself to ruin in the halls as your finger presses to the spot that demands attention most of all. A fragile, shaking circle before your breath already begins to catch.

“Bitte…”

The brute sounds so helpless now, no longer the horrid thing that ordered you to “piss off” or scowled in your direction. He doesn’t know a thing about love… about how one should yearn for a maiden, only of spilling blood and seed. It’s only in the quiet of the night when the rest of the castle sleeps does he allow himself to be even this vulnerable… only his vulnerability seems even more terrifying.

His groans morph into pitiful sighs as he no doubt slows his motions, drawing out an impending orgasm in the hope that you will crawl to your door to let him in and fuck you rough on your bed.

“Just let me…”

Your thighs tremble as you weep between them in longing. The sooner it’s over the sooner you can close your eyes and drift back to sleep, no longer needing him the way he seems to need you now.

Your motions grow more heady, the patterns traced quicker and more deliberate as the heat rushes down further like the most vast wave of pure fire… When you tense, when your lips part to allow a low murmur of pleasure to slip from them, you’re met with laughter from the other side of the door.

“Ja… my lady… you do want it,” he hums as you draw your covers up and over your head in shame. You hadn’t been that loud, surely… but the way that he follows after, coming undone himself with a loud grunt as though it were some ridiculous competition…

“Let me fuck you next time,” he rasps, panting soft as he leans back. Depraved as he was, you were certain he was probably admiring the pearly paint he left along the stones. “That is my place, hm?”

[sunflowerzyk]

Detrás del depredador - König Híbrido!Oso x lectora [Medieval AU] Cap. 5

Eres una plebeya de familia numerosa, tu vida es de lo más tranquila como lo puede ser para alguien de tu estatus. Hasta que una de las tantas mañanas en las que sales de tu hogar para recolectar frutos de los arbustos en lo más profundo del bosque una flecha atraviesa tu brazo. Tu no lo sabes, pero el dueño es el príncipe König , un híbrido bestia/oso, quien te tomara como su esposa, aunque no lo quieras así.

lista maestra <<

Ao3 << In English

Contiene: diferencia de edad, perversión, könig Yandere, konig Mayor, Diferencia de tamaño, obscenidad, dub-noncon, könig posesivo, daño/consuelo, pelusa, violencia típica del canon, dime si me olvidé de alguno.

Si este contenido no es de tu agrado continúa deslizando, gracias

Sólo había una silla.

La suerte debería estar riéndose en tu cara por ser tan ingenua, esa silla no era para ti, no necesitabas ver el rostro del príncipe para saber que tenía una enorme sonrisa en sus labios.

Tan solo la forma en que movía sus dedos sobre la tela de tu vestido en la zona de la cadera te daba un indicio de su diversión.

Sus movimientos lentos y firmes

No podías esperar un trato tan amable después de dudar de su generosidad y culparlo de poner cosas extrañas en tu comida para aprovecharse de ti.

Aunque se aprovechaba, pero ese no era el punto. Él nunca pondría nada en tu comida, no. Él no era tan cobarde para hacer algo así, si tuviera planeado hacer algo contra ti, lo haría en tu cara, de manera cínica. Y dejaría evidencia lo suficientemente obvia para que una cabecita como la tuya lo notará rápidamente. En este caso, su semilla sobre tu vientre.

Llevabas viviendo ahí (en contra de tu voluntad, un porcentaje) por al menos 3 o 4 semanas, cómoda y bien cuidada, él solo pedía como recompensa de cuidarte tan bien(mandar a una criada a hacerse cargo de ti) que solo estuvieras tranquila , dormida profundamente por tu pereza y fatiga mental, y exhibieras tu bello cuerpo para él.

Que no hubieras despertado mientras él tomaba su premio y untaba su semen sobre ti no era su problema, ya que él siempre intentaba despertarte, pero simplemente hablabas entre sueños, te movías ligeramente y seguías durmiendo poco después. Sin importar que él gruñera en tu oído y desgarrara las sábanas al lado de tu cabeza.

Él se aseguraba de entrar a tu habitación a media noche, cuando el papeleo le permitía descansar, estar limpio y enérgico de verde nuevo; Él no quería aceptarlo, pero siempre entraba a tu habitación cuando estaba cien porciento seguro de que estabas en la etapa profunda de tu sueño, toda una bestia pervertida y descarada, solo por ti.

Siempre estaba lleno de trabajo en las barracas de los guerreros, entrenamientos, adiestramiento y disciplina, gritos y golpes, sin importar cuan demandante fuera esencialmente, prefería el campo de entrenamiento a sentarse todas las noches antes de dormir a revisar los papeles que su hermano mayor. . . firmaba sin leer la letra pequeña, un incompetente de primera.

Pero el trabajo y cansancio nunca será un impedimento para könig, eso no se interpondrá nunca en sus visitas nocturnas a tu habitación para sentir tu aroma suave contra su hocico que babeaba al inhalar tu cuello.

Esos pensamientos los hicieron temblar ligeramente, reafirmando su toque en tu espalda baja.

Si, deberías saltar por la ventana de la habitación donde él te hospedó cuando tuviste la oportunidad, o comer una fruta venenosa del bosque, tal vez.

No debías ser tan inteligente para ser capaz de percibir el cambio en el ambiente y la forma en que él príncipe könig tocaba tus caderas, divertido, sin dejar de ser casi sensual.

El príncipe te guía por todo el camino hasta la silla enorme de color rojo vivo, como la sangre, la recorrió hacia atrás y tomó asiento, sin dejar de tocarte la cintura, pasando su mano enorme y enguantada de estar en tu espalda baja a tu costado, muy cerca de donde terminaba el corsé y empezaba la falda ancha. . Sin dejar de mirarte ni un segundo, se acomodó en la silla en silencio.

Un silencio incomodo

.

Humillante.

Pasaron largos minutos, solo escuchando las brasas del fuego que iluminaba la habitación, y la respiración de ambos, el sudor se estaba acumulando en una fina capa en tu frente, mientras trataba de mantener tranquila y en silencio tu respiración agitada.

— ¿No piensas sentarte?

Él preguntó con voz tranquila y profunda, buscando tu mirada con sus ojos penetrantes.

—No hay más sillas, Príncipe.

Resaltaste lo obvio, deseando que esté humillación terminará lo más pronto posible.

— ¿De verdad?

El preguntó con severidad, cambiando el tono, tratando de usar algo más sarcástico pero salió más amenazante, provocando un escalofrío por tu columna.

Aún mirabas al suelo con nerviosismo, cualquier lugar menos a él, sabías perfectamente que te estaba comiendo literalmente con la mirada, tan solo pensar directamente en ello te ponía los bellos de la nuca erizados, estrujaste la tela del vestido debajo de tus manos desnudas.

König soltó un sonido gutural, un gruñido desde lo más profundo de su garganta, un sonido de satisfacción, sin dejar de acariciar su costado con su dedo pulgar, la piel ardía debajo de él, casi quería salir corriendo de la ansiedad acumulada.

Sabías que él podía oler tu nerviosismo, el sudor y tu ansiedad, cada vez que inhalaba y exhalaba con la misma profundidad sin dejar de mirarte.

—Toma. Asiento.

Él habló de nuevo, una orden, sin petición, con un tono más severo y demandante, cerraste los ojos en respuesta, tu rostro completamente lleno de un color rosado, y la mandíbula tensa por la vergüenza. Sin miedo a reprimendas, estrujaste de nuevo el vestido, y te acercaste más.

Ya no tenías orgullo ni dignidad ahora, era eso o morir. Miraste su regazo. Gran error.

Un jadeo ahogado quedó atorado en tu garganta al notar un bulto entre sus piernas, independiente de las capas gruesas de ropa fina no se podía ocultar esa.... Cosa.

Rápidamente te quedaste quieta sin avanzar más y él gruñó en protesta, casi molesto, rodeando completamente tu cadera y arrastrándose hacia su regazo, las telas de tu vestido ayudaron a mantener una distancia considerable entre ti y su enorme.... Protuberancia.

Gemiste en voz baja, tratando de acomodarte en tu sitio, en su regazo, eso solo provocó que könig apretara mas su agarre contra tu cadera, y juntando tu cuerpo aun mas al suyo, tu costado contra su enorme pecho y abdomen, incluso en esa posición ni siquiera tu cabeza le llegaba a la clavícula, era jodidamente enorme.

König tomó con su mano libre un tenedor con elegancia, tanto como su enorme figura se lo permitió lo clavado en la carne del frente y se lo llevo debajo de la capucha, a su boca.

Inmediatamente tu barriga gruñó al oler la carne, no comer durante dos días seguidos fuer horrible, solo beber un poco de agua no era suficiente, sentís que podrías colapsar si no probabas un bocado en poco tiempo.

Pero el príncipe simplemente te ignoró, y continuó acariciando tu cadera, moviendo sutilmente su toque hacia tu estómago que rugía, presionando sus grandes dedos calientes sobre la tela. Sacando jadeos de incomodidad y nerviosismo de tus labios, lo cuál, no lo detuvo en absoluto.

Continuó atormentando tu pequeña figura en sus garras, presionando tus nervios y necesidades a tal punto que solo estabas frustrada.

—Quiero comer.

Dijiste de manera cortada, sin aliento, lamiendo tus labios por la falta de hidratación y la ansiedad.

— Príncipe-

— Puede estar envenenada, no deberías.

— Me equivoqué, por favor.

Lloriqueas, viéndolo saborear la comida sin cortar el contacto visual contigo, sus ojos ligeramente arrugados, tenia una gran sonrisa divertida detrás de su máscara, te hizo enrojecer de humillación e impotencia.

Él estaba disfrutando de su comida.

— ¿En qué te equivocas Kitz?

König deseaba verte disculparte propiamente, humillar te ante sus ojos. Pero al diablo con tu todo, realmente deseabas comer.

— En dudar de su majestad.

— ¿Sí?

El continuó comiendo y hablando después de devorar grandes bocados.

Él quería escuchar más.

Tragaste saliva, sabiendo que se refería a lo de esta mañana, cuando fue a dejarte el vestido sobre la cama, escuchó tu charla con la criada.

— Continúa Kleiner Schurke

Él ronroneó, fortaleciendo su agarre en tu cintura, pegando el costado de tu cuerpo aún más, mientras solo podías jadear, abrumada por el calor inhumano que desprendía de su enorme cuerpo.

Cortaste el contacto visual cuando se inclinó más cerca de tu rostro, la máscara tocando tu nariz, miraste hacia abajo, primero pasaste tu atención por la falda del vestido, subiendo lentamente hasta la gran mano de könig que estaba cambiando, de nuevo.

Salió un grito ahogado de tus labios, aún no te acostumbras a ver como cambiaba a una forma más animal, sus uñas se alargaban y tomaban un color marrón oscuro, y de su piel salía un pelo abundante de un color marrón más claro, como el de un oso pardo.

El cambio de forma provocó el desgarre de los guantes que cubrían la mano de könig. No sé molestó en remover los sobrantes de la tela rota

Sus dedos se ensanchan y alargan a la vez, pequeñas almohadillas del color de sus uñas saliendo en el centro de su mano. Antes cubría solo la mitad de tu vientre, ahora más de eso, y era más pesado. Las garras de su 'mano' se contraían ligeramente y salían de manera lenta, jugando con la tela de tu vestido encima del vientre.

Fácilmente podría matarte, ya lo sabías, pero ahora era más evidente, con tan solo un poco más de fuerza podría pasar la tela del vestido, tu piel y carne, una idea aterradora e incómoda, mandó escalofríos por ti columna, y te moviste de tu sitio. Mala idea.

Sus manos no fueron lo único que creció, al mover tus caderas el bulto apuñaló tu trasero, era más... Más grande. Abriste los ojos de inmediato, sin aliento, König solamente sacó una risita profunda de sus labios, disfrutando de tu sorpresa y miedo.

—dije, continúa.

El susurró, aún no levantaba la vista de su mano sobre tu vientre, cerraste los ojos, sintiendo su cálido aliento quemar tus mejillas, su tono indica diversión, pero poca paciencia al mismo tiempo, no le esperaba esperar demasiado.

— solo...., no debí suponer cosas sin sentido, acusar al príncipe de algo tan cobarde.

Murmuras entrecortadamente a todas sus demandas, mientras el te acariciaba tu vientre dolorido, gruñendo por sustento mientras él continuaba comiendo postres y deleitándose con tu figura tan avergonzada.

—Sehr klein.

Finalmente cuando se sintió satisfecho dejó de presionar tu barriga y movió una de sus enormes patas hacia un plato lleno de comida diferente, no era tan grande como el consumió, pero tampoco diminuto, suficiente para ti.

—Sehen.

Él tarareó con voz profunda, arrastrando el plato hasta enfrente de ambos, rápidamente levantaste la mirada y tú boca comienza a salivar, casi era involuntario, te moviste para tratar de alcanzar la comida pero könig no aflojó su agarre en tu cadera para que lograrás tomarlo. . tu misma.

— No, pequeña tonta, Te lo dije, ¿no?

- ¿Qué?

—Puede tener veneno, ¿recuerdas?

— Peor yo ya-

— Debo probarlo primero, antes, para que estés segura, ¿verdad?

-príncipe....

— además, tu brazo está herido, no a sanado por completo, no queremos que se habrá, y debas quedarte más tiempo.... Aunque pensándolo bien-

— ¡no!.... Por favor....

Casi querías llorar, gritarle a la cara, dos jodidos días sin comer, podrías aguantar más, eras una plebeya que se dedicaba al campo y no siempre tenían para comer, pero con tres semanas con tres comidas al día, tu estómago se había vuelto tu peor enemigo.

Igualmente la herida suponía un desgaste físico, si se volvía a abrir solo existían dos opciones, la primera, el príncipe könig se aburre de retenerte y te arroja a tu suerte en la calle de nuevo, regresas a casa, si bien te va, y vuelves al campo, con alta probabilidad de que tú mano se infecte. Y la segunda opción, permanecer aún más tiempo encerrada en el castillo con un hombre bestia completamente desquiciado y pervertido...

Un regreso que provenía del eco del príncipe te sacó de tus pensamientos, claramente estaba disfrutando atormentarte. Aunque se vislumbra una pizca de molestia..... Principalmente porque pareces horrorizada de quedarte más tiempo.

König clavó su garra en un trozo de carne asado, olía demasiado bien, moviste tus manos hacia de él que estaba en tu vientre, para alejarla, o pide misericordia, pero solo recibiste que clavara sus garras ahí, atravesando la tela del vestido y acariciando. . tu piel directamente, sacando un gemido asustado de tus labios, él solo se burló.

Observaste detenidamente como tomaba un pedazo de cada cosa y se lo metía a la boca detrás de la máscara, cuando terminó con cada cosa se acercó sus garras a tus labios.

—Sauber.

Él exigió, no debías saber su idioma para saber a qué se refería, sin importar cuan desesperada lucieras te inclinaste hacia sus enormes garras y metiste una entre tus labios, un suspiro silencioso y entrecortado te dejó, satisfacción retumbando en el pecho de könig.

Metiste más la garra, con cuidado, pasmado tu lengua por toda la longitud, absorbiendo el poco sabor que había dejado la carne y los jugos de la comida.

Eso mismo hiciste con cada uno de tus dedos, el no te permitió alejarte de cada uno de tus dedos hasta no asegurarte de que los dejaras 'limpios' lo que quería decir, llenos de tu saliva.

Al terminar el ronroneó y paso el dorso de sus dedos sobre tus labios para limpiar la saliva que había dejado pro ser tan descuidada y desesperada. por él.

En aprobación y recompensa por tu obediencia viste como movía su mano hacia la comida, y lo clavó como antes, pero ahora lo extendió a tus labios.

Él te iba a alimentar.

— Puedo comer sola.

— No, no puedes.

Gemiste contra el pedazo de carne que había extendido hacia ti, frotándolo contra tus labios para que tú le permitas alimentarte.

Abriste tus labios, y él introdujo la comida dentro, con cuidado. Deleitándose con la vista de tus labios, abriéndose para él, saboreando la carne, masticando y el sonido det u garganta al tragar.

Cada pedazo él lo llevó a tus labios con sus garras, con tanta delicadeza como un hombre bestia podría ser.

Medio plato pro terminar, y decidiste simplemente mirar hacia arriba, a sus ojos, te encontraste con una sorpresa, su máscara ahora denotaba un ligero bulto, abre los ojos con sorpresa, könig estaba aún introduciendo comida y no bajó la mirada.

Tus labios entreabiertos, pupilas contraídas por la sorpresa y la ansiedad constante, tu corazón acelerado una vez más.

Tu rostro se formó una pequeña mueca de sorpresa y temor, su rostro también había cambiado debajo de su máscara, lo sabías.

— Respektloses kleines Mädchen.

König sisea con un gruñido bajo, y profundo, sus ojos como dagas afiladas que amenazan con cortar tu garganta, rápidamente mete el pedazo a tu boca, con la sorpresa, casi te ahogas.

Él te maniobro, tu espalda chocando con su abultado pecho y tu trasero sentía aún más su masculinidad apuntando hacia ti.

Estabas por escupir el trozo de comida, pero el cubrió tu boca, solo te dejo toser contra su enorme pata, masticaste como pudiste y tragaste el pedazo, jadeando y sudando, tus ojos llorosos por el esfuerzo, y su pata y garras sobre tu rostro. , era caliente, y muy suave, su pelaje, olía a pino, y tierra húmeda, olores agradables y frescos que te hicieron sentir fresco, contrastando mucho con toda la situación.

Suspirando temblorosamente, abres tus ojos, ahora estabas completamente frente a la enorme mesa, La otra pata de könig sostenía aún mejor tu vientre debajo de la tela.

Suspiraste, indicándole que ya podía soltarte, habías pasado el pedazo, pero no parecía siquiera prestarte atención, tu mano se movió hacia la suya, pasándola por sus nudillos con suavidad, tocando su pelaje directamente.

El cuerpo del príncipe se tensó notablemente al percatarse de tus movimientos, las garras sobre tu rostro se contraían y expandían de manera ansiosa, raspando la piel debajo con mucho cuidado.

El príncipe suspiro profundamente, inclinándose se más cerca, su máscara interfiriendo con su acceso a tu piel en la zona de la nuca. Pidió a la criada Elis específicamente un peinado alto para hacer eso, saborear. Se alejó de tu nuca con un gruñido lleno de fastidio y se acercó a tu oído.

— Prohibido, darte la vuelta, ¿me entiendes? ¿kleines Rehkitz?

El gruñó, su aliento caliente y pesado quemando tu oreja sonrojada.

Afirmaste con tu cabeza rápidamente, gimiendo contra su enorme pata sobre tus labios y gran parte de la mitad baja de tu rostro, una sensación de anticipación se arremolinó en tu estómago.

— Si te pillo observando, te arrancaré tus hermosos ojos...

Él susurró, moviendo su garra para cubrir tus ojos con toda de sus dedos gordos y horribles, llenos de un pelaje suave que te dejaba sin aliento.

— Después de tu hermosa lengua rosada....

El Gimió por lo bajo, subiendo su mano que antes estaba sobre tu vientre y cintura, moviendo la hasta tus labios, separando la carne pintada de un rojo intenso, metiendo un dedo dentro.

Gemiste, experimentando arcadas por la intromisión, tus mejillas se llenaron de un color más intenso, el sudor en tu diente, cuello, y entre tus senos, lo realmente preocupante en la situación eran sus garras, el miedo de ser desgarrada por dentro era horrible , sollozaste, queriendo cerrar tu boca, cerraste lentamente tus dientes sobre el enorme dedo que könig que fácilmente eran dos dedos tuyos, la saliva cubrió su dedo, pero no pareció inmutarse.

En cambio, introdujo aún más el dedo, con su garra completamente contraída, escondida par ano lastimarte, solo quería jugar, ronroneó contra tu oreja, ahogando gemidos de placer al sentir tu lengua y dientes alrededor de su dedo peludo.

— y por último...

König sacó su dedo de tu boca, hilos de saliva los unían, el pelaje compactado por el líquido de tu boca, jadeas, alegre de tener un respiro, aún su enorme pata cubría tus ojos, pero sabías que no te iba a hacer un daño. permanente.... Aún. Ese pensamiento te dio tiempo para relajar tu cuerpo tenso, por unos segundos antes de sentir como su enorme pata caliente se odiaba sobre la falta de tu vestido.

Tocó ligeramente por encima antes de sumergir sus garras entre las capas y capas de la falda, soltaste un grito, asustada, el te hizo callar inclinado tu cabeza hacia atrás, la parte posterior de tu cabeza sobre su musculoso pecho, tu cuello, pechos y vientre a su disposición, bajo su mirada depredadora.

Desgarró la tela lo suficiente para llegar a la última capa de la falda, justo antes de llegar a tu ropa interior se detuvo y solo acunó tu pelvis y feminidad en su enorme pata. Enviando oleadas de electricidad por todo tu cuerpo, arqueado, mientras tu hiperventilabas por la confusión y el placer, algo en esas acciones movían tus entrañas, deseando ver más, sentir más.

— Te romperé las piernas para que no puedas huir nunca de aquí.

Soltó en un gruñido, apretando mas su agarre contra tu entre pierna, te quedaste entrecortadamente, el calor que te rodeaba era tanto como acogedor como amenazante.

En un intento por equilibrar tus sentidos moviste una mano para ponerla sobre la que acunaba tu coño que comenzaba a humedecerse pero la adrenalina.

— no voy a mirar... Promesa.

Susurraste, escuchando un ronroneó, dejó de acunar tu coño lentamente, subiendo por tu pelvis, vientre, pechos clavícula y alejar su toque,. Un sonido de tela desprendiéndose sino a ti lado, segundos después el príncipe liberó tus ojos.

Dejando que los abrieras, estabas mirando al frente, la pata de könig se movió al frente de la mesa, con la máscara entre sus garras, colocándola justo al lado de tu plato lleno con 1/4 de comida.

— tripa, Mein hübscher Bürger..

El príncipe se quitó la máscara, y la colocó justo frente a ti, movió su enorme pata peluda hacia la comida para atravesarla de nuevo y la llevó a tus labios.

Sin objeciones abres tus labios y te inclinas más cerca para seguir comiendo. Al hacerlo, la lengua de könig se arrastró sobre tu nuca, jadeas con el pedazo en la boca.

- Gotter....

Él Gimió en su lengua materna, acercándose poco después para restregar su.... Hocico en el costado de tu cuello, oler la piel debajo y ronronear, si así se le podría llamar. No dejó de alimentarte en ningún momento, manteniendo su agarre firme sobre tus caderas.

Miraste la comida buscando una distracción lo suficientemente entretenida para no gemir ni darle el placer de escuchar tus ruidos vergonzosos. Nada funcionó, también su protuberancia no dejaba de ser una molestia, frotándose contra tu trasero.

Te estabas volviendo loca. Él te estaba volviendo loca.

Ser un hombre bestial increíblemente testarudo y grande debería ser un pecado.

Y también gustar de eso.

— Du musst essen, deine Wunde heilen.

El príncipe deliró, contra tu nuca.

— Denn Sie werden Ihre ganze Energie brauchen, um meiner Forderung zu widerstehen.

La adrenalina te recorrió, el significado de sus palabras no podría ser bueno.

Agradezco sus likes y reblogs, para mas contenido, gracias por el apoyo <3

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Knight König who, after bravelly defending the castle alone and saving all the beautiful young maidens, is now *gasp* alone with them!! You and the rest of the young ladies are not even married yet and this whole horror of a siege came :(( you had to be locked inside the maiden tower with the other ladies, praying to the gods that someone strong would defend you, and here he was!! The giant knight from the north from whom you were always herded away 'because a brute like him has no business with fine young ladies like yourselves' :((

Imagine König who is for the time being the only male in the small castle, the foe has been defeated but any kind of help will take days to arrive :( During the fighting his mind was on slaying all the enemies to defend the flock of the frightened ladies but now...??

He's the only male among a dozen of maidens!! And these poor does are so scared in their tower on comfy beds of furs with all the supplies...so many warm, soft bodies to keep him warm and 'aid him to help his wounds', so many broad hips and breasts to grab and squeeze for comfort...oh and they are so ready to share all the supplies with him!!

I mean...who's to say that a war hero doesn't deserve something good too? :D

GFDFSSSS first I was like "gangbang medieval style yeehaw let's gooo" but then I had another quick idea (in all honesty writing gangbangs make me blush furiously lmao I'm weak!)

CW: Fear of SA, mention of blood, boners galore, dubcon groping, period typical attitudes, gender roles etc.

Knight!König asking you to wash him (because he was seated next to you at this one feast and now he's obsessed...)

König, who never had time for women because he was always on duty, whose best chances for a wife were an old widow or some soiled woman, whatever that meant... Probably some lowly lady, for a lowly knight like him. His family must hate him because they keep him from having even that: instead, he gets shipped off to this outpost of a castle that houses hundreds of soldiers and only a few women. Even they are kept under lock and key most of the time, and it's no wonder... A man like him shouldn't even be dreaming of dipping his dick in the pretty soft things of the Maiden’s tower.

König, who even to his own surprise, finds himself victorious after weeks of siege. Who's left completely unchecked and alone with a flock of scared fawns, poor does who are now gathering together for warmth and safety. They only have tiny daggers and iron scissors as their weapons against an armed knight, knowing they’re not always safe even from their own men – especially after a battle.

Even the strongest, most valiant knights get tired during a siege, turning into starved animals after a few weeks. A soldier fresh from war is the worst thing, having his cock up after bloodying his sword, they usually need to have a woman as soon as possible. A victorious knight, finding himself winning against all the odds, would surely prefer to fuck every single one of the soft cunts locked up in the women's tower...

So König, who batters the door and orders the frightened women to lift the baulk, only gets screams as an answer. They finally open it when he says he's tired after a fight and only wants to rest for a bit, puts on his most charming smile as the huge wooden door creaks open, and meets the ladies with a wide grin despite having blood all over him, stands proudly in his full height with his sword still drawn, a path of entrails and cut limbs behind him – why are they still screaming? He saved them! He should be given a royal welcome!

König, who finally gets the women to calm down a little when they notice he is not about to rape them on sight, who wipes his sword with one of their finest, freshly dyed wools (rude!). Who sheathes his weapon and smiles again, suggesting that they help him out of his plate and give him a wash – he’s earned that much, no?

König, who eats from their bowls as if he has never even seen food, who gawks at their tapestries with curiosity, who tries to stare down their necklines and catch a sight of those beautiful, round, plush tits. Most women quickly rush to heat the water to escape the possible groping about to ensue, while you are left with the task of getting him out of his armor.

The straps are small and endless, the armor consists of dozens of different parts, and he just keeps on grinning widely while you’re at it, giving you odd compliments and passages of courtly love with his mouth full of food. Some of his ramblings are straight out of a troubadour’s song, but you don’t believe a word he says, especially when his heated stare is fixed on your exposed neck, the collarbones so frail, the cascading wool that reveals your wrists as you try to pry your way under the heavy, bloodied pauldron.

Of course he remembers you, down to the minutest detail because he got to feed and take care of you at last winter's great feast... Someone had fucked up and seated you next to him in their error, and he heedily took advantage of the situation. He even managed to have a grope at you when the lords and ladies weren’t watching because they were so drunk.

He was drunk too, intoxicated by the strong ale and the shy stares you granted him. You didn’t do a thing when he pulled you closer and practically fed you some deer off your shared plate, tried if you'd fancy a date or a sip of wine while keeping you tightly tucked in his lap. He couldn’t get enough of you: your tiny gasp when you felt him grow hard, your whimper when he stole a soft squeeze of your tit… Your shy ghost of a smile as you demurely called him “Sir” and told him to stop before he gets you both into trouble. 

Ever since that night, he has dreamed of you when pulling out his leaking cock. Sinned until he felt embarrassed to go to the chapel and yet again confess that he has defiled himself with his hand and thoughts of you. Ever since that night, he has wondered whether you are giving those whimpers to someone else nowadays…

But here you are, in the tower, taking off his plates and using all your strength to get him out of his chainmail. Why haven’t you been married off yet? Why aren't you making blankets and throws at some fancy lord's castle by now? You have the perfect hips for delivery, it's practically a sin to keep a woman like you locked up in a military fortress…

And polite curtsies and shy, downcast eyes won't save you now, you know that.

How can you say no to a knight, ordering you to give him a wash? “Do him the honor,” he says, while anyone can see he’s already hard.

There’s nothing the others can do but put up a curtain and leave you two to your featherlight privacy. He doesn’t even bother to undress behind it, simply flaunts that monstrous thing between his legs for everyone to see before giving you the honor of strolling to the steaming bath. A soft silence fills the tower as the knight, tall as a legend, hairy as a beast, climbs into the small wooden tub with a grunted sigh.

You, the maiden he picked, can only look in horror as he grows even harder under the hot water. The thick erection soon juts above the surface, the dark curls framing the base of his cock now floating lusciously underwater, the dark hair covering his full balls, too. Either he's just big everywhere or then he's been too busy during the weeks of the siege... The amount of times you've seen him abstain from meat in this castle is ridiculous, and you always wondered if he ate fish because he liked it or because he had defiled himself in his lust.

He's an animal, but having a woman is not a sin as foul as throwing his seed on the ground... And here he is, strong thighs spreading as far as they can go to give room to the astounding erection he’s having just from the prospect of your touch.

The knight leans back in the tub, looks at you with a drowsy, soft smile, and tells you not to be afraid. The thick, throaty voice leaves your knees completely weak.

“Ach so... Have you ever touched one of these before?”

[frogchiro]

Okay I’m not really sure why but I LOVE concepts of like animal courting like male birds doing gorgeous dances and the old stuff where a guy kills a massive animal/predator and presents it to your doorstep like JSJSJWI I giggle and kick my legs at the idea of König killing someone who tried to snipe you and being like “here you go hun :3” or like a medieval AU ghost killing a fucking moose or huge elk for you and showing up with it in his arms RAHH I’d love to hear your thoughts

SKSKSKS I LOVE IT TOO AND I'M NOT ASHAMED TO ADMIT IT

The hunting a big, dangerous predator and presenting it to you screams many of my aus and I could honestly go on for hours about this but for now I'm gonna go with König bringing a whole ass deer back to his cabin deep in the austrian woods where you two are holed up :((

A fearsome soldier and a respected colonel but this man honestly goes kinda dumb for you. Like,, when you're around and there is no one around, just you two in the solitude of the woods in the Alps he really kinda starts thinking not with his rational 'soldier' brain but with his dick and relies more on his more primal hindbrain :((

As far as he knows and cares you two aren't partners but 'mates', and his role as the strong, proud male is to provide for you everything you could want, so warmth, food, comfort, safety and sex :(( Also when you two reside in his cabin? There's gonna be little to no clothes. He has no problem with wearing them obviously and only does this here, but it kinda feels...freeing? And just feels right, plus he gets to show off to you like a proud stallion everything he has, his brawny, strong body and magnificent cock all on display and he's not ashamed. Obviously would never want you to be uncomfortable but if you decide to forgo clothes too he will literally get on his knees and thank you :((

Also, König hunts. His papa took him on many hunting trips when he was a kid so he's a skilled hunter, it's kinda became a necessity living a solitary life like this even before you but when you moved in with him?? He does this not only to put food on the table but also to show off to you like crazy :(( He wants to show you that he's a capable hunter and can provide as a mate for you and any future offspring you may bring into the world ♡

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 3: Taming the Beast

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! Mentions of smut, eventual filthy smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding and a perv, some predator/prey dynamics, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people and bc he's a perv?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

.......

series inspired by the art below!

You were more than lucky that no one caught you going down to konig's quarters last week on the night of the autumn harvest ball. You made sure to keep your interactions with him the following days very brief, if you even saw him at all. this was all for his sake, so that he wouldn't be thrown out of the castle - or worse - on accusations that he seduced the Austrian royal family's princess. not that it wouldn't be the truth, but you were the one who pursued him first, after all.

you found that you could hardly concentrate during your routine literature or violin courses. your eyes would always wander out the window, scouring the fields or training area for the hooded giant. but just like his living quarters, he must train in secret, for he was rarely seen outside of the castle during daylight hours. some nights, you'd spot him from your bedroom window, washing his clothes in the moonlit stream. you wanted to call out to him, but surely others would hear, and it wasn't safe. you wished you could be like Rapunzel, to just let down your hair for him to climb to your room like a storybook prince. but you were no Rapunzel, and he was certainly no prince.

it was too risky for you to sneak down to his quarters now that things had settled down after the ball. you thought endlessly on how to get more time alone with him, to just even speak to him, even if you would be the one doing most of the speaking.

crime in your country actually seemed to almost stop now that konig was the royal family's executioner. everyone was scared of him, and of his axe. to be killed by konig was a death like no other, even though he made it swift and painless. needless to say, castle life was getting a little boring. you had enough of the routine, enough of the shy, virgin-like smiles you sent his way on the rare occasion you saw him. he was the most interesting person you've ever met.

and konig couldn't get it out of his head how you said that fire just needed to be handled properly. he replayed that night over and over again in his mind, pondering your words with every free moment he got. he couldn't admit to himself that he missed you: from your kindness and smile to your plump hips and squeezable breasts. that cloth you gave him didn't make it three days before it was soiled with his essence as he jerked off to unholy thoughts of you. he pretended to not notice the way you would owlishly stare at him from your bedroom window when he was trying to wash his clothing.

but you couldn't think of a way to see him alone again, until tonight. you watched as konig cleaned his clothes under the light of a crescent moon, but he seemed to forget a piece of clothing as he left. no one else would've been able to see the black cloth if they hadn't already known it was there. you jumped up from your daybed by the window and smiled as a plan formed in your head. much like the night of the banquet the week prior, you slipped on a cloak and some loose boots before sneaking out of the castle. it wasn't uncommon for you to take walks at night, even before konig arrived, so that alone wouldn't arouse any suspicion. the silence of the night and the cold glimmer of the moon were often your only companions.

you pretended to follow the streambank lazily, as if you weren't making a bee line for the cloth, as if it wasn't the only reason you came out tonight. the knights each had their area that they guarded every night, and you had long ago memorized each of their paths and schedules. they were no threat to your plan. when you finally approached the black cloth lying on the ground, you sat down and gently pulled it under your dress with your foot. you carefully folded the garment under your cloak and tucked it under your arm before you sat down and admired the stream for a little while, like you usually did. the easy part was over. now, you had to figure out how to get to konig's quarters without being seen.

there was no way you could march right past the knights like you did last time. there were too many servants about, and your sisters often stayed up later than they should've, just like you. you aimlessly wandered the castle grounds as you thought, and remembered that there were secret passages throughout the castle that were only supposed to be used in times of an emergency. surely returning the executioner's forgotten clothing to him was an emergency?

you walked back to your room, to trick the servants and knights into thinking you were going to bed, before you entered one of the secret passages to the basement. it was hidden behind a painting that rested on the floor rather than hung. only you knew about it, somehow. maybe no one else ever bothered to wonder why one painting wasn't hung out of the thousands that already adorned the castle.

you could risk bringing no torch with you, so you braced the cold darkness of the passages and followed them down. in your younger years, you would often hide in these passages from your sisters, or when someone made you upset and you couldn't get away. but you had never been past the main level. but down you went, until you reached the trapdoor exit and were right in the middle of the basement servant's quarters. they all seemed to be asleep, so you quietly climbed onto the floor and descended down konig's staircase. you were slightly more confident this time since you've visited him before, but it was still like knocking on death's door.

you gently knocked and whispered his name. you heard the bed creak, and he opened the door a moment later. he didn't look all that surprised to see you, like he did last time. he wordlessly looked down at you.

right as you were about to hand his discarded garment to him, you realized that he might find it creepy how you knew he left a piece of black clothing, outside, at night, while you were supposed to be asleep. you blushed, and pursed your lips shut. he tilted his hooded head to show he was confused. but he already knew you watched him, so would it really be that weird? you couldn't think of an easy excuse as to why else you would be down here, knocking on his door in the dead of night. so, you timidly handed him his folded garment that he left by the stream.

"you...left this," you said quietly without meeting his eyes. he gently reached and took the garment from your hands. you lowered your head in shame as you realized you had become a stalker. you were about to turn to leave when his voice pierced the air, even though he spoke very quietly.

"can you handle fire?"

you looked up at him with wide eyes, and you must've looked like a spooked animal. you chewed the inside of your cheek.

"i'd like to think that I can," you responded breathlessly.

his silence gave you the idea that he was satisfied with your answer. but his gaze was so heavy that you could barely control your mouth before you blurted,

"i'm sorry i'm not stalking you i just think you're really interesting."

his eyes widened at that, and you blushed as you realized what you had just said. you turned to run up the stairs, needing to get away from his all-knowing gaze, before his strong hand grabbed your arm and pulled you into his room. he shut the door with his other hand and pushed you somewhat roughly against his hard, wooden door. his body caged you in as he leaned an elbow above your head and curved his back down so that your eyes were level while his other hand hung at his side. giving you an escape if you wanted. but you couldn't will your body to move. you had awoken a beast.

"you should not talk to me," he warned through gritted teeth.

you could barely breathe. "why?"

his eyes went up and down your frame before he gulped and answered.

"bad idea," he rasped.

you were truly a lamb caught within the wolf's jaws. your breath grew labored.

"I don't think so," you whispered.

"i am an executioner. you are a princess," he said, almost angrily.

you looked him in his eyes, and he truly had the look of a predator. his pupils were pinpricks swimming within a sea of grey-blue. "i don't care."

it seemed he tried to restrain himself with some hidden leash, with the way his body trembled as he caged you in. was he aroused? angry? scared? you couldn't tell.

"i will ruin you," he stated.

your body went on autopilot. you smirked.

"i'd like to see you try."

taglist: @kneelingshadowsalome, @plumdreadful

very filthy smut next chapter!!!!!

[wordstome]

the execution of lady jane grey

I got drunk and Tiktok showed me history_alice's video about this painting by Paul Delaroche. And since God has cursed me for my hubris and my work is never finished, have some medieval executioner König x fem mc. Also, Lady Jane Grey was executed by Mary Tudor (Bloody Mary), not by Henry the VIIIth (the one with the six wives), but I blended the stories just because I can.

1.3k words

König doesn't ask questions.

It's never been his job to ask questions. The king points, and he does the dirty work. Most of the time, he takes pleasure in it: thieves, rapists, murderers, they all answer to his justice. And sure, a true loyal citizen might argue that he's simply enacting the king's justice, but it's König who swings the axe, is it not? In the end, König decides their fate.

In theory, anyway. In practice, this is simply his job. He keeps his head down and does what he's told. He stays quiet about the king's secret executions, the ones that happen in the dungeons instead of out in the open courtyard where the smallfolk gather to watch. It's hypocritical, honestly. They all look at König like he's a monster, some spectre of death among men, but when there's a public execution to be held, are they not the ones clamoring and pushing to be at the front?

There are some times when the king's executions are more...dubious. An advisor who voiced dissent one too many times. A thief stealing barley from the royal stables to feed his family, made an example of. A young man, just a boy really, accused of murdering four grown men—convenient, considering all four men's wives had been found in the king's bed at some point or another.

Those are the executions König prefers not to think about. The ones that haunt him in his dreams anyway. Those are the ones that make him yearn for his days in the army: when the people he killed were as faceless as his hood was to them, when he didn't know them and didn't have to think about the loved ones they left behind. König's never claimed to be a good person, the opposite in fact. But sometimes when he brings the blade down, he imagines a different, more royal neck on the block instead.

He feels this way now, as he watches her make her way to the block.

She's ethereal in her petticoat, the soft silken material reflecting what little light there is in the cold stone room and bathing her in a warm glow. Gentle and obedient into her own grave.

The king's wife. Sent to the block for treason, of all things. But everyone knows the truth: he's only killing this poor woman because he plots to put his latest mistress on the throne. Just a few weeks ago, this sweet young thing was the king's main obsession. She stood no chance at all, the daughter of a local lord currying favor with royalty. And now, she's being put to death through no fault of her own. The injustice grinds König's teeth, and takes his mind to a dark, dangerous place.

If she was his, he would never so much as let another woman cross his mind again. He's seen her about the palace grounds, with her beautiful bright eyes and lively smile, skirts trailing behind her like the tail feathers of an exotic bird. Just watching her had made him feel young again, no longer the brutish old soldier everyone averted their eyes from.

He's only spoken to her once, but he'll never forget it. He had been in her way, but she was the one who apologized. Most people would have seen the hood and backed away in fear, but not her. He watched, frozen and unable to say a single word, as she curtseyed and looked at him with, of all things, a shy curiosity. For one still, breathtaking moment, he held her gaze in his, and he felt like they were the last two people remaining on earth.

Then her lady in waiting had touched her on the elbow, and the spell was broken as they continued on their way. But König had never forgotten.

That same lady in waiting is here now, eyes puffy as she holds the queen's elaborate dress and jewelry in her lap. She had chosen to take it off, so as not to stain the expensive fabrics with her blood. How can she be so considerate of others, when the whole world has failed her so?

She turns to him, trembling like a little bird, and meets his gaze. The words come out before he can help himself.

"I beg your forgiveness," he blurts out, and almost immediately mentally scolds himself. What right does he have, of all people, to ask for her grace?

"Of course, sir," she says, her voice clear and sweet. Surely, he can't feel any more wretched than he does right now...and then she speaks again.

"I only pray you dispatch me quickly..." She turns a fearful eye to the wooden block, sitting almost innocently on top of the straw laid down to soak up her lifeblood. "Will...will you take it before I lay me down?"

"No, madam," he whispers.

She nods, and with a sudden streak of iron will, ties the blindfold about her head. König knows this is a kindness: she'll never see him coming. And yet his heart aches to see her cover up those beautiful eyes.

A loud sob comes out of the lady in waiting, watching her young mistress fumble around blindly. König's heart shatters when she lets out a little cry of confusion as the lieutenant of the prison rushes to hold her steady. "What shall I do? Where is it?"

König feels a sudden streak of anger, at the gentle way the lieutenant lowers her to the ground. The man clearly knows this is wrong, and yet will not lift a finger to help her.

Guilt strikes him yet again as he remembers that neither is he.

Or is he?

He stares down at her, this vulnerable little lamb sent to the slaughter, her pretty neck exposed for his blade, and he knows what he has to do.

The lady in waiting cries out in anguish as the blade lowers to the queen's head, causing her to gasp as the cold metal brushes against her skin. But instead of cutting her head off, König slices through her blindfold with a deft precision.

"What is the meaning of this?" The lieutenant demands as the queen scrambles from her kneeling position. König offers his arm, and she takes it, her hands warm against his sleeve as she stands up. The confusion is writ plain on her face, but her eyes shine with an innocent hope that only steels König's resolve.

"You," König says, pointing his axe at the lieutenant, who shuffles backwards nervously. "You will tell the king that she has been executed. If he asks for a body, find one: I don't care which one. And if you tell anyone what happened here today, I swear to you that I will water the earth with your blood, and the blood of every family member in your line." His eyes narrow at the lieutenant. "Do I make myself clear?" The man nods, stuck still with terror.

The queen's lady in waiting rushes forward, pressing jewels into her hands. "My lady, you will need these," she says urgently. "For wherever life takes you next." She gives König a determined look. "Take care of her, sir."

The queen's eyes go wide and round as she looks up at König. "I don't understand."

He kneels to her height, taking her hands in his. "I am taking you away from this place," he tells her, his voice low and urgent. "But you need to trust me."

She closes her eyes, and takes one deep, trembling breath before opening them again. "I trust you."

"Good." She yelps as he picks her up in his arms, hands instantly darting about his shoulders. "I am sorry, my lady, but we don't have much time."

She giggles, giggles, in his arms. "I don't mind," she says, with a mischievous little look that invites trouble. God, he is utterly fucked, isn't he?

"I can give you time, but not much," the lieutenant says. "Go!"

König doesn't need to be told twice.

To be honest with you, I have no idea what this is. I wrote this in, like. An hour. I think a demon possessed me. I don't think I'm going to write more of this au, but who knows!

@danibee33 @kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria