Escapism and Purple Prose.

INTP | 24 Dark Romance Ahead

[gauloiseblue]

IOFAB (Demo) Update

Only Flesh And Blood (Demo) by gauloiseblue

A König x reader VN | Based on IOFAB

I'm too lazy to write another summary for the game, so I'll go straight to the point. For the past few months, I've been rewriting the script of the game, so the story is no longer the same as the OG one. I changed a lot of things and the concept too, which might be the closest to my very first idea of IOFAB. If you ask me what's my initial concept of IOFAB, this is exactly what it was.

As promised, I made it into a playable game on web, so you can (technically? hopefully?) play it on your android. I'm not sure if it can be played on iPhone, hopefully it can. Anyway. I plan to release the full game next year, unfortunately, I can't give you the exact month yet since I'm still busy.

In the meantime, enjoy the demo. Comments and suggestions are appreciated <3

[gauloiseblue]

Reprise.

Phillip Graves (Call of Duty)/Reader

True to his name, no men were known to have survived Graves once they crossed him. Yet under the shadow of his legacy, one name has escaped and survived.

Somewhere in an unassuming city, a woman sat among those who waited for the bus. The sun has set, and the night turns colder as the residual warmth slowly dissipates by the wind. A quiet chatter fills up the silence among the passengers, before they turn their head to the incoming bus. She stands and picks up the paper bag of hers, then follows after people to board the vehicle. 

The distance between this stop and the next is only five minutes, and while it’s such a short distance for a walk, she prefers to watch the fast-moving view of the city. The fresh fruits in the bag feel cold on her lap, and she absentmindedly strokes the outline of the clementine. She wasn’t the only one who brought home the orange fruits, as they were abundant in the market. Marking the beginning of its season. 

Looking back, she never once discerned such things, for a reason that she could get them all-year round. But now, she could appreciate the wait for their seasons—Clementines in the winter, pears during the autumn, honeydews and rhubarbs for spring, and cherries for the summer. 

Her thought comes to a pause as the bus slows down at the stop. She gathers her bags before exiting the vehicle and into the cold night. 

The apartment resides on the side street near the old bar, which has started to be quite lively as she passes by. The small street she walks into is illuminated by the porch lights. While having streetlights would make it seem much safer, the lack of them makes her sleep better, as no lights are strong enough to peek through her curtains. Some nights, when she found it difficult to fall asleep, she could trace the constellations from her balcony. A privilege she couldn’t get in big cities. 

As she enters the front door, she catches a foreign, yet familiar scent hanging in the air. It’s faint, but it still manages to stir something within her. Some long buried memories, unwanted, yet still cherished. She stops on her track as she takes a deep breath, taking in the distinct smell—of vetiver and oud wood. 

Years ago, it’d evoke both anger and fear inside her, but now, all that was left of it is only weariness. Softly, she puts down her bags, and walks to her bedroom door. 

She wasn’t surprised when she saw him in the dark, dressed in a long coat and slacks. The dim light from the window lets her see his weary face, although not so much as he’s looking the other way. He seems older than she remembered, then again, it must’ve been five years since she last saw him. 

“Graves.” She called. But nothing seems to come out of him, as he keeps his eyes on the window. It went unspoken how they both knew it was a facade, something he kept when he wanted to appear imperturbable.  

“I was hoping you’d call me Phillip.” He uttered, quietly and without emotion. 

“I’ve called you Graves even before we went our separate ways.”

A mirthless smile unfurls on his lips. “Still heartless, I see.”

When he turns, she notes how the shadow paints his face darker, turning the light on him into sharp edges. His eyes had sunken, causing the shadow to engulf his brilliant blue irises. He had lost his boyish grin, and what’s replacing it was an empty, flat-tire smile. 

“You’re still as beautiful as I remember.”

“And you look unwell.”

He huffs an amused snort, with his smile slowly turning dimmer. “Haven’t been well since the day you left me.”

If she hadn't been wiser, she’d hit him in the face. Pouring all the anger she’d held since he barged into her little paradise, forcing her to leave the sunny island and her lover behind. But she knew better than to give him satisfaction, since he’d mistook anything she gives—including violence—as love.

“I heard the military developed a new kind of opioids,” She crossed her arms, voice still calm despite the venom she spat, “Why don’t you try it?”

“You know they made it to turn soldiers into puppets.”

She shrugs, “It’ll give you a peace of mind.” 

A small irritation flashes in his eyes, but he does well hiding it. “We both know that’s not what I need.”

Silence falls between them, and it stretches just as long as their history. Of course, she knew what he needed. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, since there’s no need for words for them to understand each other’s thinking. Her name echoes between the walls of his mind, along with the cry that she refuses to hear. ‘I need you’.

“I’m no longer yours.” She uttered with her gaze elsewhere but him. “You’ve lost me when you chose to walk down in those paths.”

She couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice, but it’s hard not to when in the end she’d be the one who’d say ‘I told you so’. After all the fights, all the pain he’d inflicted, he’s still blinded by the illusion that he could still fix them. While forgetting the nights she spent alone while he’s out entertaining the generals or on missions, only to come home carrying the revolting scent of women’s perfumes. Forgetting how he’d make prison out of their home, how he’d chase after her when she was finally freed from him, how he wrapped his hands around her neck when he found out about her lover—only when she laughed at him that he snapped out of it and let go. 

“We could always try again.” He muttered, “After all, you still carry my last name.”

She lets out a chuckle. Of course he’s still blind. Cruel and unseeing.

He’s not always this cruel, she wouldn’t stay with him for that long if she saw the man he’d become. He was a brilliant, passionate man, but somewhere along the way, young Phillip died, replaced by a monster who wore his face. When he stood in the same room, the floor beneath them would shift into the black and white tiles of the chessboard. And whenever he spoke, she felt her clock start to tick, that she had to move her pieces before the time’s running out. She could still hear it ticking, but it no longer frightened her. 

“That’s because you refuse to sign the papers.” She retorts. “My answer is still the same; I don’t want you Graves. I’ll never be yours again.”

She steps aside, gesturing to him to leave her room, despite knowing fully well he wouldn’t walk away. 

He stands unmoving with his gaze stays on her, searching for even the faintest sign of uncertainty. But her stance is absolute, and nothing he can do to change her mind. 

Still, he asks for a selfish thing. “Give me a kiss, and I’ll leave.”

It's funny how a single word could drain her blood from her face. Kiss. 

Phillip Graves, a man who lies for living. Nothing he says is as clear as it’s supposed to mean. A business means war, a lesson means torture, a forgiveness means death, and a kiss, it’s never about a kiss. 

In times past, when they were still together, his kisses meant ‘I love you’. ‘I love you’ in the morning, ‘I love you’ before he left, ‘I love you’ when he came home. He knew the weight of the kiss, and how it still affects her in the way that she refused to speak of. 

She stands there, unmoving, but he could see her mask begin to crack. Of course she still loves him. How could she not? He’d left such a deep imprint on her mind, that she had to walk away to see how blind she was. 

And him, a cruel being as he is, closes the distance between them. His hand slips under her chin, so easily, as if they were still lovers. 

“I love you,” She gasped against his lips, “I love you, Phillip.”

The words echoed in his mouth, and slowly crept up into his mind. They sounded delicate, in the same way as confession of faith. He grunted as a quiver ran down through his body, inciting the flame in his groin. 

Around them, lay the proof of their hunger—duffle bags, his uniform, her dress. They formed a trail from the front door, to the sofa, where their bodies tangled into one. 

And there she laid, blissful and unknowing, of his sin and infidelity.

“You didn’t pull away.”

She rolls her eyes, “As if it’d stop you.”

A small, but sharp grin appears on his face. He knows that she knows how little he thinks of her protest. How it means nothing to his desire. Always prodding, and always she tolerates. 

“Once.” She spoke eventually. “You may only kiss me once.”

With that, he leans down to capture her lips. 

It’s rough and forceful, just like him. She clutches at his arms instinctively to keep him from suffocating her. Between moments of kisses, she thought of the man she once loved, the man whose kisses she thought were full of longing—mistaking his egotism as love. Of course, there won’t be just one. She knew. Of course… Of course…

When he lays her on her bed, she doesn’t resist as he pulls up his sweater. The coat he’d shed rests beside hers, along with the white and grey scarves. She stares at them, and all at once, she’s flung back into the past. To the time when she threw a fit at him, screaming, shouting, as he repeated his excuse over and over again. I don’t love them, You’re the only one for me. And foolishly, she believed him.

She could remember the softness of his lips, the gentle morning after the storm. How he loved her earnestly. Solemnly and through. And it felt real, it felt as if everything’s gonna be alright. In his arms, she found a sanctuary. But now, all she can feel is the coldness of the room. The weight on her body, the dampness of his skin, the smell of sweat mixed with his perfume, her own moans as he thrusts into her, it’s all muddled up by her numbness. 

In daze, she murmured against his lips. I can’t escape you, can’t I? 

And he smiles, he smiles like a child, as if he's winning a wooden toy at the carnival. His eyes crinkle as he brushes her hair aside, before planting a kiss on her temple. 

He lays by her side, arms around her as he presses his nose onto the curve of her shoulder. The ruthless facade he’d craft so carefully melts away in the afterglow. What’s left of him is a man starving for love, a man who believes he has won. In naiveness, he thinks of the warm morning, coffee and breakfast. Forgiveness. And he sleeps so soundly, not knowing he’ll wake up to an empty bed.

Empty room.

Empty. 

[kosatsatosh]

König in the shower with the hood-mask on, coming out looking like THE wettest long-haired dog. Absolutely a wet rag.

yea it’s like free waterboarding

[dsalcy]

（🔨）

[godivaghoul]

[godivaghoul]

my entry for the May #hardcoverchallenge from

@hardcoverart.com

[pangroses-deactivated20250909]

My favourite St Vincent song listen to right now

[melancholic-thing]

Symbiosis [Kidnapper!König x Reader] Part 3

A/N: whew, work has been kicking my ass recently so this chapter took longer to write than I thought it would, thank you guys for waiting <3 and a massive thank you to the angelic @suimon and loml @uhohdad for beta reading this chapter, you guys are wonderful and I couldn't do this without your support!

Part 1 | Part 2

AO3

Summary: Adjusting to your new situation means getting use to König being a freak.

Tags: Yandere König, Kidnapping, Obsessive König, Awkward Conversations, Social Anxiety, your both so dumb and its kinda sweet, Some Smut, Masturbation, dubcon, noncon, reader is a bit of a dummy, könig has impulse control issues, Fluff and Humor.

You stretch on your queen sized mattress, completely zoned out as you watch old movies on the TV König moved to the basement for you. One of the many forms of improvement he’s offered to your ever so luxurious abode. The one you're most grateful for is the lack of any chain around your leg, he seems satisfied with simply locking the door. You had tried prying it open but no amount of shaking and pushing would pry it open. Not like you tried especially hard, it was purely out of curiosity, to see if you could actually explore the house while he was away. 

You stare at the digital clock on top of the TV (another bit of generosity) 3:16PM, you still have some time until he comes back home. So, you decide to tackle one of the other distractions he had provided you, a stack of novels from varying genres, the books chosen gave you a distinct feeling that he simply googled ‘what books do women like?’ and bought whatever was around. You skim the titles, mediaeval romance, wartime romance, alien sci-fi romance, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath which you assume was only there because he thought it was a romance book. You pick up the title that elicits the least amount of cringe in your soul, some sort of Victorian crime thriller that looks interesting enough. 

You read it to the sound of some random 80s action movie as background, getting lost in the world of aristocrats and murder. You lounge on the mattress, completely  unaware of the loud stomping making its way towards the basement. Only looking up when you hear the lock turn. 

The door bangs so hard against the wall you think it might have shattered. You pull your knees against your chest, your little novel gets abandoned as König marches into the basement, huffing like a bull. Each thundering step raises your heart rate until he’s standing in front of the mattress you sat on, making you feel like a frightened little rabbit being picked up from the pet store by a particularly cruel looking boy. 

“Up.” he says, gesturing with two fingers. You comply with a militaristic obedience, standing with your shoulders back and arms pressed solid to your side. He gives an approving nod before wrapping an arm around your middle and hoisting you up over his shoulder. 

Your squeal is met with a gruff command to shut it,  you try not to squirm as he walks out of the basement. The walk up the stairs was particularly painful as each step had you bouncing on his shoulder, digging into your abdomen. König was entirely unaware of your struggle, only focused on getting you out of the basement and into…the living room. 

Huh.

He plops down on the massive grey couch and manoeuvres you into his lap. His arms are wrapped around your waist as you straddle him, pressing your chest to his own hard enough for you to feel his heartbeat. You sit there, immobile and still as a statue as he simply breathes loudly. König squeezes you tighter, his arms shaking as though he was resisting the urge to completely strangle you. 

“König…?” you squeal, his grip on you loosening. He gives you a grunt and you decide to continue prodding. 

“Is everything okay?”

He breathes you in, taking an inhale so deep it was near comical. He lets out a half-hearted groan. 

“Everyone is a fucking moron.” he says through gritted teeth.

“I come to this fucking work and I do the job I am asked to do, one stupid idiot makes a calculation mistake and suddenly I’m getting an earful about something I had nothing to do with!” He tosses you to the side as he gets more heated, you end up on the other side of the couch, your mouth a straight line as you just accepted the barrage of complaints coming from your captor.  

“Ich bin ein verdammter Soldat!” He points to himself with four fingers as his voice grew higher in volume. “Diese Arschlöcher behandeln mich, als wäre ich der Lehrer ihrer Kinder." He seems to catch himself before he starts screaming, squeezing his fist tight, you get the strange notion that he would be punching walls if you weren’t here. 

He sits cross legged, placing his hand on his knees and continuing on with his tirade. “How is it my fault that a fucking recruit wasted everyones time, kick him out and get it done with verdammt!” He finally turns his attention to you, huffing and making his mask flap, you bite back a smile, not wanting to anger a snarling bear even further. 

“Aber nein! Ignore what I say until the little shit does the thing I warned them about and then jump down my throat!” 

He adjusts himself and slams his legs on the table one after another, you worry for the poor table as the loud bang makes you wince. He leans back against the couch, taking in a deep breath and stares up at the ceiling. You sit, partially terrified, partially amused. It was like riding a rollercoaster after watching an hour long video about how unsafe they were.

You think back to days where you could do nothing but agonize over how difficult others make your work, how badly you could have used a close confidant to vent to, sadly those you knew had what you would classify as “real problems” and it only felt burdensome to add onto their pile of woe. You look around the room, the furniture is minimal and functional, comfortable enough for a man like himself but so devoid of any homey feel, no photos hang on the walls, no frames with a laughing family is anywhere in sight, hardly a magnet or piece of memorabilia anywhere in the room. You briefly wonder if he had any friends in his work place, if he had anyone to talk to about his strife. He chose to vent to you, and this small sense of responsibility planted the seed of pride in your chest. 

You could probably get a good grade in this somehow.

You try to comfort him, placing a hand on his arm and rubbing slowly, his biceps twitch, pulling taunt ever so slightly. You can feel a scar over the spot you were rubbing, you can’t help but imagine the sight of him in battle, blood dripping from the wound as he ripped through enemies like a beast. If your first impression of him was anything to go by, he was a formidable soldier with the corded musculature to prove it. A shiver runs down your spine when you think about the person who had given him the scar, he was surely dead by now. You wonder if he was one of those people charged with interrogations and torture. Or if his job was to train new blood, since he mentioned recruits.

“So…what do you actually do?” You ask timidly, curiosity getting the better of you. He snorts, giving you a quick glance. You suppose it’s a bit late to ask, weeks into your capture. He glances towards you, not bothering to turn his head.

“Insertion specialist.” he answers curtly.

You squint at him.

“...is that a dirty joke?”

There was a moment of silence before he barked out a laugh, his shoulders shaking in mirth as his hand came up to cover his already masked face.His laugh is oddly nice, a boyish, loud guffaw that took you by surprise. 

A thick arm envelops you, pulling you into Königs chest. You squeak as your back pops when he gives you a tight squeeze. He rocks you side to side, kissing your cheek through his mask when you start apologizing.

“You improve my mood so easily…” he hums, giving your head a few strokes. He tucks your head under his chin, kissing the top of your head.

You squirm in his grasp, this much proximity to him is too much too fast. “What? It doesn’t sound like a real job!” you try to argue, your head is pressed against his chest, his beating heart audible in your ear. A steady, calming rhythm that you get lost in. You realize how much you’ve pavloved yourself into finding comfort in his presence, he always brought something good into your new life when he came back. New clothes, a hairbrush, some snacks, all items that flood your brain with serotonin that your little monkey brain now associates with him. So you find yourself relaxing in his hold, focusing on the steady rhythm of his breathing. 

“Did you get in trouble?” you inquire, trying to find a way to fill the silence more than anything. 

“Nein, it was just a pain in the ass,” he sighs, squeezing your midsection. “Need to blow off steam” 

“Is that why you took me? To blow off steam.” you retort, the question had been in the back of your head since you woke up in this strange place. Initially, in the first few days of your imprisonment, you had assumed you were going to be assaulted and then murdered, discarded into some ditch to rot away. But as days passed and he continued to treat you with…non-malice, you grew more comfortable. Not that you were opposed to it, you allowed yourself to essentially lie recumbent and receive his unconventional form of care, but he’s never actually explained why he kidnapped you in the first place. Why go through all the trouble of faking a death certificate of someone you never really did anything to?

He doesn't answer right away, content in simply running his hands up and down your back. Your anxiety builds with every stroke of his bearpaw of a hand, moments like this are when you are truly made aware of how little you know him, you have no frame of reference for his behavior, how he is going to react or what is going on in his mind. 

“No.” He finally says.

“Then why?” 

He pulls back, holding your face in both his hands, he scratches at your scalp gently. The way he looks at you drowns you in affection. It is a lovely feeling, being cared for. You hadn’t thought about anything outside the confines of this house, like your world has shrunk down to its absolute basics; eat, shower, entertain yourself, sleep. A simple, straight forward life that rids you of the indignity of slaving for a paycheck that hardly covers rent.

“I’ve always wanted a pet.” He whispers, running a hand through your hair as your jaw hangs slack. Pet…? 

God you wish you had the time to think of how to respond to what is arguably the most ridiculous conversation you’ve ever been involved in. No one prepares you for moments like these, you’ve never been someone who knows how to react in normal social settings, let alone this. You tremble in his arms as your internal hurricane rages on.

He doesn’t acknowledge your reaction, instead he shifts to lay on his side, keeping you in his arms. He then turned you around so that your back was securely pressed to his abdomen, effectively spooning you. He reaches for the remote, fiddling with the TV and turns on a German movie and gives you the grace of putting on subtitles, not that you were able to focus, mind too occupied in digesting the information just relayed to you.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The movie credits roll and you stretch your sore limbs, trying to untangle yourself from König's embrace, a reprieve he gives you for a few minutes as he sits up from the couch to stretch his own muscles. The movie was a forgettable detective thriller, you couldn’t give the main characters name if you had a gun pointed to your head.

“I have a surprise for you.” He says, it feels like a threat.

“Really?” 

He nods “it’s in the bedroom, come.” He turns and walks towards the stairs, not checking if you were following him, trusting you to follow him dutifully.

You could run. 

You realize, glancing towards the hallway that would surely lead you to the front door. His house is sizable, but it's no mansion, you could just figure your way out soon enough before you’re caught. You look back at König, whose long legs had already carried him a good distance away from you. You think back to the ease with which he carried you out of the basement, the idea of him charging after you at full force had your heart already beating faster.

He stops halfway up the stairs, turning his head without uttering a word, the slightest tilt of his head speaking for him. Your body answers by pushing you forwards, following him up the stairs. You keep your eyes glued to his back. His shoulders are impressively broad, tapering down to a narrow waist. How he finds clothes that fit him so well is a mystery to you, then again he isn’t doing too bad for himself. Tall, muscular, and with a well paying job, You wonder why he doesn’t have a woman or two clinging to his arm, he really shouldn’t have to go through the trouble of kidnapping you like this. Then again he doesn’t see you as girlfriend material apparently. You aren’t sure if you should be insulted or thankful.

He stands in front of his bedroom door for a second before moving to the side, inviting you to open the door yourself. Your lip quirked up, a sense of giddyness washed over you in spite of the anxiety you knew should have been there instead. You reach for the handle, pushing the door open with bated breath. 

The scent of the room hit you first, his bedroom always has this hint of freshness that you began to associate with a pleasant sensation of fresh linens and clean skin. You feel your body unwind subconsciously, the anxiety that was coiling itself around your limbs slowly loosening its grip on you as he walks into the dark room and flicks the light on. 

Something is deeply wrong. 

The room as you remember it was barely furnished, only a bed, drawer table, and a closet. Not a single photo hangs on the wall, nothing that could ever indicate that there was a man living here, bringing to mind a furniture display in a mediocre furniture store. But there’s an addition to the space that fills your chest with discomfort, you try to verbalize all the words that spill out of your brain. Yet all that can come out of you is;

“Why is there a cage here?!”

The aforementioned cage sits a few feet away from the bed, dark black bars pressed against the wall. The inside of it is laid with silken sheets and soft looking pillows, so soft looking you almost miss the fuzzy hand-cuffs near the entrance. The cage is massive, big enough to fit a particularly large dog comfortably.

A hand rests on your shoulder, ushering you forward towards the physical manifestation of your current situation. For the first time since your arrival here, you push back, refusing to move from your spot. You anchor your feet to the floor and turn your head to look up at him. 

“What the fuck?!” you yell, your heart thundering against your ribcage. He tilts his head, eyes smiling down at you. 

“I told you…” he places a palm on your cheek. “I’ve always wanted a pet.”

You slap his arm away and step back. Your heart constricts with discomfort as you push back, you detest this whole situation, the intensity of your emotions making your face painfully warm.

“I am NOT getting in there!” you say, voice warbling as you try to stand your ground. He doesn’t dignify your rebellion with a response, instead he walks towards the cage, unlocking the door. It lets out a high pitched screech as he opens it that makes you clench your fist. 

“That is not a choice you make, Schatz.” His tone is gentle, in a way that makes you feel stupid for going against him. He gestures for you to come closer, his stature reminds you of a man trying to handle wild animals, like he’s trying to make sure you aren’t spooked by him. 

But you aren’t a wild animal, you have nowhere to run. 

With hesitant, slow steps, you move closer. The cage is so much bigger up close, the metal is a dark, sturdy metal that you subconsciously reach out to feel. The heat seeping out of your body, much like your will to resist.

“I made sure it's a comfortable fit, you could lay down entirely” he says, his hand resting between your shoulder blades, gently stroking up and down. The warmth of his hand contrasts the icy metal in  your palm. “This is only for the weekends, Katzechen. I want to wake up to you in my room, spend all day with you for once.” 

“You have a bed.” you retort, vaguely aware of the consequences. He responds by wrapping his arm around you and pressing you to his side, giving your cheek a pinch.

“I know you’d rather stay in my bed Katzechen, but I don’t quite trust you yet.” He shook you condescendingly, god you want to cry. The way he makes you feel so stupid when you know you’re right. 

You have been in situations like this before. Where your wants were discarded as silly suggestions that don’t warrant a response or a shift of the current status quo. You found a way to survive then, you show no reaction to any taunt, go off on your own and do what you must to feel comfortable. This has left you with a minimal social circle to keep your own peace of mind. You’ve become so used to not being in situations that require you to beg for your needs from your self imposed isolation that the idea of being treated like this all over again twists your stomach in knots. But you have to survive. You have to earn the right to say no here. 

“I…want to shower please…” you mumble, König guides you to the washroom with a nod, the air of victory surrounding him and suffocating you in equal measures. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It's past midnight. The cage is not uncomfortable, you could lie in it comfortably without having to bend your legs. The mattress was more firm than you would have liked but you could live with it. You toss and turn, head occasionally banging on the metal bars with a loud thunk. 

König props himself up with his elbow, mask still over his head. He chose to keep it on for some godforsaken reason even in bed, which in hindsight is not as strange as when he kept it on for the shower, but the dim lights emanating from the window gave him a ghoulish appearance, like he’s the phantasm you anxiously stared at by the foot of the bed as a child. 

“You look good like this Schatz.” he murmured, voice coarse and heavy “Could stare at you all night.” he sighs. 

“Aren’t I lucky.” you mumble, turning to face away from him. You are tired of this cage already, the privacy offered by your basement dwelling now seeming like a blessing in hindsight. 

The bed creaks and your stomach drops, you roll to see the giant sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless with boxers riding up his thigh. He had his legs spread, giving you an ample view of him stroking his growing hard on. 

Maybe it was the distance between you two, maybe it was the cage keeping you well guarded, maybe it was your eroding sense of self preservation, but you can’t bring yourself to be anything more than mildly annoyed. 

“Seriously?” you groan, he hisses to that, hips arching up to meet his strokes. 

“You can’t blame me, you're cute when you talk back” he hums, his head tilting to the side as his thumb toys with the band of his boxers. You let your eyes linger on the bulge straining the clothes. You shouldn’t be surprised that he is so…proportional, but your mouth goes dry the longer you stare. His thigh flexes under your scrutiny, hand gripping the base of his cock tighter as he lets out a shaky breath. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and he gets to his feet in an instant. You crawl backwards until your back hits the metal bars separating you from the wall. In two long strides he reaches the cage, grabbing at the bars on the roof of the cage. His form now inches away from you.

“Haa…You like that ja?” he mumbles, his large paw groping at his erection firmly, he’s close enough that you can clearly see a wet patch forming on his underwear. He tucks a thumb into the waistband, exposing more of the curled, thick patch of hair on his lower stomach. 

“Stop that!” you whine, curling more into yourself as he lowers his boxers, cock springing free from its confines as König lets out a deep groan from the back of his throat. Your eyes bulge as you take him in, a pearlescent droplet of oozes from his bulbus tip, sliding down his shaft and following the thick veins of his cock only for his hand to smear it over. It was a sinful sight, one that had you entranced, unable to peel your eyes away.

“You say that, but you can’t look away, you like my cock Katzechen?” his voice takes on a teasing tone despite his hand stroking his member with a near desperate motion, hips bucking with every pull and tug. Your traitorous body grows warmer with each wet stroke, his heavy breathing twisting your stomach in knots as you stare shamelessly.

“Come,” he says, putting a hand through the metal bars “give me your hand, I’ll let you touch it” he says, gesturing with his long, thick fingers. 

“I will yank it off” you threaten through clenched teeth, but all your furrowed brow and hissing tone does is amuse him. He chuckles as he spreads more of his precum across his length, tip glistening as the wet noises filled the room. 

“Meine tapferes kleines Mädchen.” he teased, grabbing a metal bar with the hand not occupied with his manhood, you see his arm flex as his grip tights around the metal, bending it slightly as your stomach drops.

“Too much bravery makes you dumb, little one.” he whispers, his words dripping with degenerate delight, as though he was hoping you would push him further, give him reason to show you the consequences of being so stupidly brazen.

Your jaw is wired shut, you can only stare wide eyed as he continues to pleasure himself, the sound of it is so filthy and shameless that you find yourself pressing your thighs together to alleviate some of the pressure building in your core. 

“Come closer, Schatz,” he breathes, “I want to see your face.” 

“Yeah?” you prop yourself up, sitting straighter now “so do I.”

His stroking stutters for a second, his blue eyes rove over you, oversized shirt delicately falling over your shoulder, you are as vulnerable as a bleeding doe in a wolf den. Yet there is a level of unspoken power which you hold, it is flimsy and unreliable but it is as palpable as the tension in the air, a small but useful bargaining chip. 

“I’ll come closer if you take off the mask.” you assert, your voice carries a bit more base in it now. He stills briefly, considering your offer. He kneels on the carpeted floor, now closer to eye level. 

A hand gestures for you to come closer. “Come, take it off yourself.” he says, the arrogance in his voice completely washed away, replaced with an earnest vulnerability, one that buries a seed of trust in your heart as you hesitantly crawl closer to him. The sheer difference in size makes you dizzy as you reach out between the metal bars, your wrist passing through the same bar he had bent out of shape just a minute earlier. 

Your touch is light and tender as you reach for the mask,  you keep your eyes glued to his. In the low light and darkness they seem almost black, yet the glint of blue is unmistakable. His half-lidded stare draws you closer as you subconsciously lean in, fingers finding the hem of his mask. 

Gentle as you would a bride, you lift his mask over his head, slowly exposing more of his face. Despite your eyes having adjusted to the darkness, you can't make out the details of his face, yet the key features are illuminated as you let your eyes take him in. A light stubble adorns his face, dimpled chin littered with small scars. His lips are full and slightly upturned on one side, a cleft lip scar evidently the reason for that. His nose is large with a heavy bump on the ridge, the heavy eyebags under his downturned eyes make him look older than you had previously assumed. 

He is…not handsome, per se. Even with the dim lights you could see he would not turn heads, but the intensity in his gaze makes him so alluring that you find your palm pressed against his scarred cheek. He leans against your touch, starved as a stray in winter, his heavy brows furrow as he tries to read your face. 

“Gut?” He says with a swallow, it's strange to see a face mouthing the words you hear now, even more so that it is a request for approval. A half formed grin tugs at your lip, and you find your thumb caressing his cheek. 

“Yes… good” 

A sultry, shaky moan slides past his lips, his stroking picking up in speed as he chases his high. “Verdammt perfekt” his jaw tightens around the word, as though it barely escaped between his teeth. “Knew you are, from the s-second I saw you I knew, du wurdest nur für mich gemacht.” He turns his face to plant wet, warm kisses on the palm of your hand. 

His blood ran hot against your palm, his breath warm and moist, a bit of drool leaks from between his lips as he huffs a cacophony of garbled English and German praises. The warmth in your core turns into an ember that hitches your breath, the way he’s talking and moaning while drooling over your hand like a mad man makes you subconsciously grind against the mattress beneath you.

“I’ll keep you here baby, keep you right where I can see your pretty face, fuck, ich möchte dich züchten Liebling” 

His eyes screw shut for a moment and he grabs your wrist, yanking it down towards his crotch, easily holding you in place as you try to pry your hand free. He continues to stroke his cock fast and hard. With a stuttering moan, he spills into your open palm.

You give a disgusted grunt as his seed fills your palm, warm and horridly slick. 

He sits back on his haunches as he steadies his breath, chest heaving as he stares down at the mess he made of your hand. He glances back to your eyes and gives a crooked grin, the scar on his upper lip making it look even more lopsided.

“It’s good for you, ja? Give it a taste.” he teases. 

You extend your arm, trying to smear it on his abdomen as punishment. He grabs a hold of your wrist with a breathy chuckle. He keeps your palm facing upwards, grabbing the fabric mask and using it to wipe off his semen. You scrunch your face at that. 

“You wear that thing on your face!” 

“Washing machine.” he answers. 

“You’re still gross” You mutter, staring at his face, reconsidering your stance on his appearance, the more you look the more appealing he becomes. His face has a defined masculinity that, when relaxed in the afterglow of his orgasm, makes him look attractive in the faint lights. 

God you need to go to bed. 

“And you are lippy today, did you grow a backbone while I was away?” 

“Fuck you.” you bite back, the ache in your body and hazy mind not giving you leeway to think of a clever response. 

His eyes snap up to meet yours, a strange glint in them that had a buzzer like alarm sounding off in your head. A wicked smile tugged on the side of his mouth, the cloak of shadow giving him a wolfish appearance now, dowsing you in cold water as you pull your hand back, still grimy from his spend. 

He stands, tucking his member back into his underwear as he strode to the cage’s door, quickly unlocking it and crouching to get inside. A primal, panicked scream is ripped from your throat when he gets his shoulders through the small entrance. You don’t know when the metal bars became a sanctuary rather than a prison, but having it be so suddenly violated had you kicking at him like a spooked deer, pure fear and hardly any strength to back it up. The sole of your foot connects to his shoulder and face a few times but he catches both of your feet and crawls over you. You grit your teeth until your jaw aches, every muscle locked tight as your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull. His form eclipsed the small amount of light that the moon spilled over the room, dwarfing you entirely. The darkness descends upon you, and you gasp when he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. The scent of him is begrudgingly pleasant, earthy and masculine. You lay frozen, your heart beating so loudly you would bet he could feel it. 

After a few seconds of nothing happening, you exhale. Feeling his weight on you, you can feel the ache in your muscle seeping away and sleep tugging on your lids. You are so tired, both physically and emotionally spent. You find yourself slowly succumbing to your base needs, and just then König decides to shift his body around, turning you to your side and tucking you firmly against his abdomen. He presses a kiss to your temple and murmurs something in German. 

“You are so cute.” he emphasizes that last word with a tight squeeze. The vice grip of his arms like another cage. His palm flattens over your stomach and he buries his face in your hair, humming and nuzzling into your scalp. You try to squirm away but the cage offers no space to move anymore, and the grumbling giant at your back doesn’t allow you an inch of freedom, tugging you even closer and mumbling to “just sleep sweetheart, you’ll feel better in the morning…”

You stare out into the room, the previously comfortable space now agonizingly snug. The contrast of the cold metal and the hard, warm body glued to your back is uncomfortable, but mounting exhaustion from the day wears you down, like a cube of ice held in a closed fist, you melt in the sweltering embrace and sigh.

A whine rising from the depth of your soul, desperate, pathetic, and pitiful. 

“We could have just slept on the bed...”

A/N: Thank you for reading! I am so excited for this story, its so fun to write. Thank you to everyone who liked/reblogged/commented on the previous chapters, ilysm.

Taglist: @fightmebissh@tinypandacakes@laduenadelswing@little-mini-in-wonderland@tavukwings@grayandthyme@eevee-of-eternity@littlemissapocalypse@beelzebee@roastyyytoastyyy@princessisfinethx@ihaveliterallysomanyproblems@zvid995167@chirimeimei@wishful-sinful-9@vickykazuya @spidersuneee @yuki2129@lostquinn@demonedean@bimboghostface@gremlinmodetweeker@one-really-annoying-tree-rat@konigofmyheart @comat0se @thicksexxualtension

[melancholic-thing]

Symbiosis [Kidnapper!König x Reader] Part 2

A/N: This chapter came out faster than I had initially expected so here you have it! I hope you enjoy it <3 @suimon thank you again for your wonderful support and help.

AO3

Summary: You get a long awaited shower!

Tags: Yandere König, Kidnapping, Obsessive König, Awkward Conversations, Social Anxiety, your both so dumb and its kinda sweet, Eventual Smut, dubcon, noncon, reader is a bit of a dummy, könig has impulse control issues, Fluff and Humor, mentions of sadism, hurt comfort.

You have never been happier to see a bar of soap. 

König dragged you by the arm, gripping you too tight as he manoeuvred you through his house. His long strides meant that you were having to jog to keep up, so you could only glance at the house’s interior. Not like you missed much by the look of it, dark wood furniture and only absolute necessities displayed would be oddly endearing, had you not glimpsed at a blade resting on his bedside table with nothing else.  

The bathroom was just as bare, a standing shower and a few bottles strewn on a wall shelf, the floor was still wet, so you assume that he did shower before coming to see you. What a gentleman. 

A large hand sneaks under your shirt, grabbing its hem and lifting it up. You swat at his hands, your attempts at cursing at him coming out as a jumbled collection of noises. He raises his hands in mock defeat, only to then reach for his belt, unbuckling it and working his zipper down.

“What are you doing?!” 

“I’m not gonna shower with my clothes on, dummy” 

“You just showered!”

“Mhmm, and you begged me to shower with you, so I am being nice” he says with a mocking tone as he pulls his pants down. Cheeks burning, you turn around so your back is to him. You get a pat on the thigh and a gruff command to hurry.

“I’ll do it for you if you’re too tired” he offers, you hate how fast you tear off your shirt, soothing yourself by monologuing internally about how you were only doing this for your self preservation, how this is a sacrifice you need to do for your own sanity and health as you toss your pants into the hamper along with your shirt and underwear. 

You step under the shower, not once glancing at the giant man who you assume is standing naked behind you. He lowers the shower head so that it is almost directly over your dome. He turns the shower valve and you are soaked with what you can only guess is water coming directly from the arctic sea. You yelp and jump back, slipping into the warm embrace of König in your attempt to escape the water. 

“It's freezing!” you whine as he turns the water off, you turn around and furrow your brow at him. Only to slowly blink when you realize he’s still wearing his hood. And his underwear.

“Relax, it’ll get warmer” he says, already reaching for the valve to turn the water on again. You find yourself clinging to him for warmth, much to his delight. His member is already straining the underwear he’s wearing. In the shower. You weigh your options, either ask about his underwear and risk a suggestive conversation or ask about his mask and risk upsetting him if he was sensitive about his face. 

You choose to reach for the shampoo bottle and dive back under the water, wetting your hair and taking in rapid breaths as the cold water envelops you again, shivering as you pour a generous amount of liquid into your palm and lather it onto your scalp. The water is slowly warming as you work the shampoo into the greasy roots. Closing your eyes as you feel the days worth of grime and oil melt away under the steady massage of your finger pads. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

König would have married you now had you not been legally dead. 

You looked perfect. Your eyes closed in an image of contentment so sweet and feminine it looks like a painting. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but the fear of you disappearing into mist kept his hands pressed onto his side and crotch. 

The image of your pretty pebbled nipples, hardened by the icy water will be burned onto his memory for years to come. The way you screwed your eyes shut at you massaged your head with slow, deliberate circles. The water reflecting off your skin gives you an angelic appearance, he could spend his whole life like this, just admiring you forever like a worshipper of old time pagan gods. 

He was unsure if he should remove his mask or not, and in his contemplative state and the trance you’d put him under, he completely forgot about his underwear. He takes the moment you have your eyes closed to remove his now soaked underwear, tossing it to the hamper with a wet splat. 

You momentarily open your eyes, presumably to investigate the noise. Terrible choice, as the suds from the shampoo make their way into your now exposed eyeball. The burn makes you hiss, hoping in one place as you frantically rubbed your eye. You turn your face towards the shower head, the water washing away the residue. You seem to have attempted to breathe in as the water blasts your face, unfortunately breathing in some of the water which you then tried to cough out of your system. 

He turns off the valve and pats your back. You coughed for a minute before settling down. The suds still half clinging to your hair and you stood straight. 

“I have never seen anyone waterboard themself before”

“Shut u- oh god!” You turn your back to him, hands shielding the side of your face. 

“Why are you naked?” You whisper, like it’s some secret between the two of you. 

Cute. 

“Don’t know, why are you?”

“I’m showering!” 

“Well then there you have it” 

You make a series of frustrated sounds like a disgruntled chipmunk before giving up and turning the water on again, wincing when the water is cooler than you had expected. 

König bites his tongue, he could not believe you had kept yourself alive for so long when even a shower was apparently a challenge. Aside from the obvious enjoyment he gets from having a woman around him, he couldn’t believe how genuinely fun it was to just be around you. Every action, every turn of phrase, every facial movement was a delight to him. He wanted to chronicle them, keep them safe to look back on when he’s old and withered with you at his side.

You wash your hair until you're satisfied with its cleanliness, applying a generous layer of conditioner to it and moving on to wash your body with a bar of soap. His throat goes dry at the vision of you, so pretty as you work a good lather on your body. He raises a hand to lightly touch your back, you flinch but say nothing. You are so…breakable, he realized. It would take only a turn of his wrist and you would be mewling in pain. The electricity that sparked in his core had him biting the inside of his cheek, this was bad. Ever since he was young he had known he had a sadistic side to him, one that would delight in seeing you trembling in fear, maybe a few welts decorating your perfect figure. He does not deny himself the fantasy, but he knows it will not be anytime soon that it will be fulfilled. He doesn’t want to force himself on you, he wants you to trust him enough to give yourself to him fully, knowing that he will still take care of you once it's all over. Because you aren’t a passing fancy to him, this is a life long relationship. You are his.

You sigh once you have rinsed off the last of the soap suds and conditioner. You turn to face him, demurely covering your privates as if he couldn’t draw your naked form by memory right now. 

“Do you have a towel?” You ask, gaze averted from him. A small, yet gnawing doubt creeps into the back of his mind. He crushes it under a proverbial jackboot, now is not the time for insecurity. 

“No” he says, reaching for a dark blue towel folded neatly just above your head. He proceeds to pat you down, he kneels down and runs the towel down your shivering legs. He pauses when he reaches your ankle, running his fingers along the ridges created by the chain in the basement. There was a small amount of discoloration there, like a bruise was about to form. His chest constricts against itself in guilt, the realization that he has left you alone in that basement with no indication of his return eats away at his conviction to keep you down there, maybe he could bring you into the house, keep you in his room like a spoiled pet he could occasionally bully. 

He raises his gaze, expecting to meet yours. You had your head turned to the side, eyes absentmindedly wandering towards the window of the bathroom, watching the tree leaves sway with the breeze. There was a longing in your eyes that hardened his heart in an instant, no you were still too wild, too dependent on the outside world to come and take you. 

Ungrateful. 

He rises to his full height, startling you out of your trance. He drapes the towel over your shoulders and gives it a squeeze, one aimed to show strength rather than comfort. 

“Don’t move” he commands as he steps out of the bathroom.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You hug yourself under the oversized towel. Goosebumps rising under your skin as you rubbed your arms, you appreciate the clean feel your skin now has despite knowing how drying all that washing was. It’s all worth it, you feel light and airy as you continue to dry yourself more thoroughly, catching every water droplet as it slides off your body. 

König comes back dressed in a loose pair of sweatpants, no shirt, and a hood. His fashion choices continue to beguile you. He’s got a shirt slung over his shoulder, one that looks well loved with the few frayed strings you see dangling off it. He takes the towel off you and flings it over to the hamper. He grabs the shirt off his shoulder and presents it to you, you admire the soft, plush cotton of the shirt as you hold it up. It seems to be a band shirt, the art style reminds you of depictions of hell demons, something out of Bosch’s paintings. The faded, worn patterns give it a cozy, cool feel, you don’t begrudge him for keeping it for so long.

“It’s yours until your clothes dry, take good care of it, it’s one of my favorite bands” He says, his voice was too soft and airy for the situation you were in, like he was in a trance of sorts. You fold the shirt and sling it over your arm, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. König sees your hesitation and tilts his head, brows furrowed as though he’s a bit hurt because you hadn’t put it on immediately. 

“Can I…Ask for one more thing?” you ask hesitantly, trying to figure out how to phrase it. He nods, equally as hesitant. 

“I…do you have any like, lotion?”  You finally say, the feeling of your thirsty skin begging for any type of moisture. He blinks at you, not expecting that this would be your request. You can see the gears turning in his head before he nods. He leaves the washroom and beacons you to follow him into his bedroom, walking towards the bedside table and reaching into the drawers for a large bottle of genetic brand lotion. 

Why would he have- oh. Right. That’s fine, perfectly natural. 

You take the bottle from him, you’re about to start using it when you see him sit on the edge of the bed, eyes laser focused on you. Of course he was so willing to help, he wanted a show. With burning cheeks, you turn around and jog lightly towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut to the sound of König’s cackle. 

Jerk.

You hang the shirt on the too high hanger bolted to the door, trying to not imagine just how dumb you looked running away like that, how easily he could just break down the door, just how utterly helpless you are here and how mean his laughter was. 

You shake your head, trying to clear it and focus on the task at hand. You apply lotion to your skin, mumbling lines from ‘Silence of The Lambs’, your buffalo bill impression is enviable in your opinion. You suppose you should be grateful that you got this kidnapper instead of the murderous, skinning type. He’s at least not been abusive towards you, besides the psychological horror of being in the basement for god knows how long and the lack of human contact. You put on the shirt given to you, feeling the light material envelop you as it sits comfortably on your body, oversized and cozy. You don’t know how you should feel, this situation is so foreign to you. The only way you’ve seen people react to situations like this is panic, aggression, and anger. None of which feel really fitting now, you are more…Embarrassed than anything else. 

You feel numb, too tired to feel any emotion that requires a hastened heartbeat. So you get dressed in silence, you feel your lip twitch as your face grows hotter. Your sight goes blurry as tears well up, each breath getting shakier and shakier as fat droplets make their way down your warmed cheek. You bunch up the shirt and stuff your mouth with it, trying to be as quiet as you could be.

Wave after wave of self loathing washes over you, you hate that this is how your body reacts, that even your anger is useless and can only be turned inwards. You sit on the cold floor until you can’t push anymore tears. Once your breathing subsides,  you raise on your wobbling feet and lean over the sink, cringing at your puffy reflection. You turn on the cold water and collect it in your palms, dousing your face with it to hopefully get it to look more normal. You cup your water filled hands over your eyes, the embarrassment of having choked in the shower bringing another nauseous wave of self-hate. 

You breathe slowly, trying to remember any of the grounding techniques you half read about online. Once you feel steady enough you make your way to the bathroom door. You open the door and keep your head down, you can already see König standing in front of the door, his hands rubbing the side of his pants awkwardly. 

“Are you okay?” he asks in a hushed tone. You feel your body lose its strength and you lean against the doorframe for support. He places a hand gently on your shoulder and you tuck your lower lip between your teeth, your tears threatening to spill again. He pulls you against his large frame, warm arms enveloping you while you shiver and shake in his embrace. You feel him lift you up and carry you in his arms like some sad princess abandoned by her court. 

He walks you towards the bed and pulls back the duvet, laying you on it and tucking you in. His bed is firm without much give to it, fitting for a man like him you assume, his back surely needs it. You appreciate how clean his bedsheets are, having expected him to sleep on nothing but a stained mattress. But the clean smelling soft sheets are perfect and you pull the duvet over yourself. König runs his hands through your hair and scratches gently at your scalp, you look up into his eyes and the gentleness with which he looks at you pins you to the bed. It's too much, he robs you of any right you have to be angry at him. 

“Ah…I’m sorry for laughing at you, I did not mean to upset you” he says, rubbing his thigh. 

That’s not what made you cry, but explaining that would require a lengthy conversation which you do not have the energy for. So you nuzzle deeper into the pillow and mumble a quick “t’s okay…”

“You can sleep here for now, I’ll take you back later tonight, ja?” he rubs a large palm over your covered arm, a feeling that has you shivering under the duvet, your lids heavy with exhaustion. 

He’s not… he’s not a bad person, you think. He’s not a good one, but he isn’t monstrous. He’s at the very least considerate right now, which you are unbelievably grateful for in your moment of vulnerability.  

You feel sleep pulling you into its comforting embrace and you decide to let it, your brain too foggy and fried to even put up a fight. You close your eyes and breathe in the scent of him, the soap, shampoo, and bed all smell of a stranger, one you are forced to draw comfort from or else you sink into an endless pit. Nothing is familiar here, but you have to cling to the fact that none of it hurts either. You feel the light touch of fabric over your forehead followed by a kiss, you dig your nails into your leg. He is too gentle, and you need it desperately. You wish you knew more about him, that you could feel any affection for him instead of this sticky, uncomfortable feeling in your chest. You have to stick through this, you have to survive and learn to find something there because you will be anchorless for the rest of however long you survive. The last thing you feel before you are pulled under is the ghost of fingers on your cheek, so feather light it forces a twitch of a smile out of you.

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! this was so fun to write. Thank you to everyone who reblogged/left a comment, I reread them for inspiration often, it means a lot to me ❤️

Taglist: @fightmebissh @tinypandacakes @laduenadelswing @little-mini-in-wonderland @tavukwings @grayandthyme @eevee-of-eternity @littlemissapocalypse @beelzebee @roastyyytoastyyy @princessisfinethx @ihaveliterallysomanyproblems @zvid995167 @chirimeimei @wishful-sinful-9 @vickykazuya @spidersuneee @yuki2129 @lostquinn @demonedean @bimboghostface @gremlinmodetweeker @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @konigofmyheart

[little-shit-with-zero-control]

König: you're too ungrateful, you can't go out of the basement yet

Reader:

König: aw come on you can't do that

[melancholic-thing]

CRYING LMAOOOOOO

They're a cat x dog dynamic except instead of Black cat/Golden Retriever its wet cat/drooly dog

[melancholic-thing]

Symbiosis [Kidnapper!König x Reader]

A/N: HUGE thank you to both @uhohdad and @suimon for beta reading, love you <3 this fic was so fun to write omg

Summary: Maybe the only solution to being overworked and underpaid is a massive military man taking you away to be his little girlfriend.

Tags: Yandere König, Kidnapping, Obsessive König, Awkward Conversations, Social Anxiety, your both so dumb and its kinda sweet, Eventual Smut, dubcon, noncon, reader is a bit of a dummy, könig has impulse control issues, Fluff and Humor

You had no clue how long it’s been since you’ve been in this basement.

If you had to guess purely based on how often he visited, maybe two weeks, your skin feels grimy despite the infrequent showers you got, which are more of an excuse to stare at your body and berate your pitiful attempts at keeping yourself covered. He had gone on a mission, at least that’s what he told you, dickhead could easily just be lounging in his bedroom while you lay on a flimsy mattress, surrounded by random knickknacks and some necessities that your captor patronisingly told you to ration properly while he’s gone. You stretch your sore arms and legs, the chain on your ankle rattling at the motion. You think back on how you got in this mess, why did you answer that vacancy ad again?

Oh.

Because you were a broke college dropout and gigs for a maintenance lady are far and few in between, that’s why.

It was your first week at the private military contractor you were freelancing in for a few months. All you had to do was repair some wires and inspect the systems to make sure everything was running smoothly. You had no clue what a military contractor was until you got the call from them, barely even bothering to learn the name or the inner workings of it considering there’s no way you planned on being a permanent hire. If the shitty pay wasn’t enough anti-motivation, the sexist comments and misogyny radiating from the hypermasculine environment really sealed the deal. You just had to do your work, get money, and leave to continue to live off cheap ramen and energy drinks. The fact that you couldn't run fast enough when the base you were on was attacked was a surprise to absolutely no one.

In your defence, it wasn’t your lack of athletic ability that got you caught, rather the freeze response from seeing the biggest man you’ve ever seen pull a knife out of your supervisor’s neck before turning his cloaked head to look at you. You have never felt more like a prey in your life than when you saw him turn his whole body towards you, tripping backwards once he started approaching.

“Was haben wir hier?” He tilted his head as he towered over you, cruel blue eyes twinkling with amusement. 

You barely registered that he was talking, panicked eyes darting between his own and the bloody knife in his hand. Tears flowed freely as you sobbed, a shaky hand coming up to put some semblance of a barrier. “P-Please…” you stuttered, voice barely above a whisper.

“KÖNIG! We’ve heading out” a voice called from behind a corner. The hulking man grabbed you by the arm and pulled, forcing you to stand on wobbly feet. He grabbed your face and turned it from side to side, lightly squeezing your cheeks in the process. “Schön” he nods to himself. Another soldier steps into the corridor, his face entirely covered with a mask and dark sunglasses.

“The hell are you doing?” the new man said, and you finally noticed the South Korean flag on his uniform. A thing so distracting apparently that you didn’t notice the goliath next to you grab his gun and angle the base of it to the back of your head, knocking you out instantly.

Next thing you knew you were tied up in what he tells you is his basement. He'd informed you that you were announced deceased by authorities, waving a document in front of your face patronizingly. You were no longer a citizen of anywhere. 

As far as the law was concerned, you just didn’t exist.

And so you spent your days in abject boredom, every puzzle he had handed you solved thrice over and the notebook he had handed you was adorned with exceedingly improving flower doodles with each page. 

You fiddled with the chain on your ankle, long enough to let you walk around the basement to relieve yourself and stop your muscles from atrophying, but not enough to reach past the first step of the stairs. You munch on a dried apricot as you examine the space around you, finding a corner with stacked boxes, each covered in a thin layer of dust. He never asked you ‘not’ to touch his boxes, did he? The only instructions he gave when he fucked off was not to die and drink water. The boredom was chipping at your self preservation regardless of how your captor felt.  You decide to kill some time and examine the content, you turn one of the boxes and your heart nearly drops at the writing on it’s side. 

Bücher

‘Bucher’? ‘Butcher’?! Is that what he’s planning to do to you? The thought of him keeping souvenirs of previous victims in the same room you were staying in for WEEKS makes you shudder. Maybe he kept some sort of weapon in there, an oversight but the amount of dust covering the box made his forgetfulness plausible. Your stomach turns at the idea of uncovering some decomposing remains, but the promise of potentially having a weapon to defend yourself is enough to push you through the line.

Your hand shakes as you reach for the tape. You take a deep breath, bracing for the rancid scent of decaying flesh as you rip open the tape as quickly as a band-aid. 

You don’t even realize you closed your eyes until you had to feel for the flaps to open them, breathing out and staring down the daunting vision of… Books. 

A considerable amount of them. The covers tell you the majority of them are either Science Fiction or Fantasy with a few comics in between, all in German. You instantly recognize the cover of a book- A manga! the warmth of nostalgia flooding your chest. 

You pick up the copy of ‘Slam Dunk’ and flip through the pages, a high pitched squeal leaves you when you realize it is in English. You flip through the pages and the dopey grin doesn’t leave your face as you read through the familiar story. The manga was not your favorite but god was it good to have anything to pass the time that isn’t your own thoughts. You forgot how fun the story is, as well as how incredibly detailed the art is. Maybe this is something you could actually talk about with König, not like there was much you could talk about other than ‘eat food’ or ‘shower’ and ‘no I am not leaving the room while you piss’. So maybe having this bit of connection could be beneficial for your relationship. 

You are haunted by the fact that you are so desperate for companionship that you classify this kidnapping as a “relationship”. 

You slap the book closed and toss it back to the box, this is ridiculous! You can’t waste time like this, you need to find a way to actually get out of here, you need to get back to…to…

To what exactly? Your shitty apartment that you’re paying way too much rent for? Your job which you hate but only do because you need to pay back your debts? Your non-existent social life? Your parents who barely talk to you and just assumed you would need money every time you called to check on them? As morbid a thought as it was, a part of you thinks they might even be grateful you aren’t in their lives anymore. And how would you even know where to go? You had no clue where you were and even if you did, there is no guarantee they don’t just put you in some kind of mental institute, and you don’t doubt a man capable of faking your death and whisking you away to God knows where would have a hard time finding you and killing you. Or worse.

You chew on your bottom lip as you recall your life before this, empty apartment, stale reheated food, misogynistic coworkers, a non stop flow of stomach churning news, constant money anxiety…

Maybe…Maybe this could be good… if you’re good and obedient, maybe this could be a chance to start over and live a more tolerable life where you don’t have to deal with bills or finding work or money. 

Or maybe you fuck up and get actually bütchered. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

König sighs and drops his head against the steering wheel of his car, exhaustion seeping from every pore of his body. his head throbs as he runs through the list of things he has to do, constant work following him even after he’s done with his deployment. Taking you in was maybe the most impulsive thing he has done in his life, his hastily put together basement housing is proof of that. He was eternally grateful to whatever god that made you so docile, with only a few snarky remarks here and there as your only form of real push back.

He takes in a deep breath and cracks his knuckles, steadying himself before he gets inside his own house. How ironic that he feels so trapped in a situation where he kidnapped another person. He could only hope you didn’t A) Kill yourself. B) Starve to death C) something more dumb that would end with you dying. 

He isn’t entirely sure what his end goal is, the second he saw you all that was running through his mind was an overwhelming desire to possess and keep you. The adrenaline and heat of a recently won battle wasn’t conducive to clarity of mind, and being in a company full of scumbags who only cackled when he said he’s taking you in for questioning and didn’t blink an eye when you suddenly disappeared. 

Maybe he loved the idea of having a woman to come back home to, the warmth of a home cooked meal and eager embrace was a dream he’s had since childhood. One that has eluded him all his life. 

König had no women in his life since the death of his mother. He was an awkward, unsocial, and unsightly man. He had assumed he could overcome these qualities by becoming a strong soldier and accumulating enough money, but all that got him was a few one night stands and women who were put off by his overeager spending on expensive gifts. He felt stupider after every break up, but that didn’t stop him from chasing after the next fluttering pair of lashes that gave him the time of day. Having picked his heart off the concrete one time too many, he thought a life of solitude and misery was all he was meant for. 

And then you, with your warbling lip and terrified eyes, enter his life. He now has something to actually look forward to each day, you were a light in his bleak life. There was something so…sweet about you, how your fear made you more meek, pliable, well-behaved. You never cursed him out, and your pitiful attempts at glaring were crushed easily with one of his own. 

Everytime he looked at you, everytime he squeezed your arm a little too tight when he took you to shower, everytime you looked up at him as you folded into yourself, all he could think of is that he deserved this. For all the pain, isolation, and loneliness he’d faced in life, he deserves a cute little girlfriend to keep for himself, who would (eventually) dote on him and smile at him with stars in her eyes and warmth in her chest. It doesn’t matter how he got you, he will make you love him, no matter how long it takes. 

He needs to be strategic about this of course, he can’t just give you everything you want and risk spoiling you or worse, making you think you can escape. He needs to get you used to your environment, accepting your position as ‘His’. Then he can actually start to court you properly, come with flowers, clothes, pretty jewelry for a pretty girl. He could already see your face light up in delight as he comes to you with a bouquet of roses or chocolates, wrapping your arms around his middle as your ‘thank yous’ are muffled into his chest. 

The image helped push him to move into the house, feeling lighter than usual. He takes a quick shower before going to see you, placing his mask back on his face as he heads to the basement. As his hand wraps around the door handle, he pauses. 

Should he have gotten you something? He left you in that room for a week, it was dark and he only left you with whatever random nick-nacks he has collected over the years as entertainment. Did he even tell you it was okay to look through his boxes? He’s sure he has, maybe you’ll like some of the books he has had since he was a teenager, he hadn’t looked through them in years so he wasn’t entirely sure what titles he had. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and curses his own stupidity, how could he forget that he barely read any English books? God he hopes you haven't died of boredom. He needs to find you something to do, a harmless hobby that could keep your pretty head occupied without risking your safety. Something like…brushing your hair or whatever. He tucks that thought to the back of his head as he unlocks the door and steps into the basement. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

His steps are as loud as a gun, and just as terrifying. How is he somehow taller than you remember? 

You want to stay rigid as possible, you are reminded of those school career days where the police would bring in their massive K-9s for demonstrations. The fear imbedded into your bones when the trainer walked into the gymnasium, a leash attached to a muzzled dog whose fur was as black as coal and a bark as ear splitting as thunder.  You still remember the way its body moved, lithe and powerful as it chased after the “criminal”, sharp canines clasped tightly around his guarded arm, head flailing side to side with terrifying growls. The moment you made eye contact with the beast was burned into your memory, the sudden paralysis which raked your body, the ache in your joints as your heart beat like a drum against your ribcage. You feared dogs ever since that day, the need to avert your gaze and never look at a dog that big and dangerous followed you your whole life. 

So you kept your eyes glued to the ground, your knees pressed to your chest even as you felt him come closer to you. It was a concentrated effort to keep your breathing even and you were still failing, you felt the mattress depress next to you, after a beat, you turned your head to see König sitting cross legged next to you, hands resting on his knees, thumbs pressing circles on his leg. His back is impressively straight and his gaze fixed to the ground, it feels almost considerate, like he is giving you some semblance of privacy in a moment where you were extremely vulnerable. 

“Did you drink water?” He said, it came out as a grunt and he cleared his throat. You didn’t have enough time to process his question and gave a near caveman like ‘huh?’ in response. He turned his head then, blue eyes peering through his hood. 

“Water, wasser, did you drink it while I was gone?” he repeats again, slower, like you were a dummy he was put in charge of taking care of. You take a deep breath and nod, your fear of upsetting him overriding the fact that your head throbs from how little water is circulating your system. He has left you a considerable amount of food rations, but having no clue when he’ll return made you hesitant to consume more than absolutely necessary. The food now could last you at least a month if you were careful with it.

He nods once, his hands resting on his knees. The awkwardness permeating the air makes your lungs feel heavy, weighing you down like tar on feathers. You glance at him, his arms are the first thing you take note of, they are massive even as he’s relaxed like this, no wonder he hauled your ass so easily. You can’t afford to imagine him flexing, otherwise your touch starved self might just bite his arm, so you force your gaze to his hood, and…

Huh. 

“I like your hair” You whisper, flinching when he whips his head to stare at you. His icy blue eyes scan over your frightened features, momentarily you wonder if he was testing you, if he didn’t wear his helmet only to see if you would actually comment on it. Did you fail? Was he about to condemn you to another month of no contact because of it?! 

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, a result of malnutrition you assume. 

“Can I touch it?” 

It’s his turn to flinch now, eyes wide in shock. You see them dart from your face to your hands to the floor. He seems nervous, almost…shy? 

He clears his throat and rolls his shoulders, facing away from you now. He rubs his hand over his thigh a few times before leaning slowly towards you. You would have missed the small nod he gave had you not been watching him like a rat observing a snake for any kind of movement. A hesitant hand reaches for his hair, running your finger through it. It was too short for you to really sink your hand through it, but it was long enough for you to grab and pull at it. Maybe if you were a better woman you would have taken advantage of it, luckily for him, you were a terrible woman whose throat constricted at the warmth of his proximity.  

Your fingers moved in small circles as he leaned in closer to you, you can smell him better now, he smells clean and fresh, like he’s just stepped out of the shower. Envy fogs your mind as you can feel your hair stick to your head from how much grease has accumulated on it, your little dips in the water doing very little to get it clean. You can’t see his face, but if his shoulders are anything to go by, he’s in a decent mood, maybe he’ll let you take a proper shower so you could feel human again. 

“You smell nice,” you mumble, trying to find a way to phrase this without sounding as desperate as you were “have- have you showered recently?” He makes a low sound in the back of his throat and nods, his body now turned towards you, his hands keeping him balanced as he leaned in even closer. 

You use both hands to rub his scalp, he lets out a long exhale as you do. Good, great even. “Must have been nice…I’d love a proper shower too” you try, the last part sounding shakier than you intended. You feel him stiffen, no longer feeling like putty in your hands. He raises his head slowly, pale blue eyes staring into your soul as he lets out a humorless chuckle. 

“That’s what this was about, ja?” He cocks a brow, a visual indication of you being busted. You stutter out a half assed excuse of not knowing what he was talking about, the word ‘butcher’ ringing between your ears like a bell signaling how terribly you handled this subtlety thing. 

“You want to shower with me, Maus?” He says, tilting his head to the side. You panic and place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him away. You succeed in getting a millimetre of distance between you.

“No!” 

“No?” 

“I-yes, no! I’m…” your eyes dart all around the basement, the walls seemingly moving in and suffocating you in a damp, musty embrace. You cannot live like this, subtlety be damned. 

“I feel so… gross, I smell bad, I just want a shower…” you admit, feeling like a 7 year old who just spilled their juice over their new white shirt, the embarrassment adding another layer of grime on your skin. 

König decides that moment of vulnerability is a good time to startle you by burying his hooded face in the crook of your neck and taking a deep inhale.  “You smell fine to me”

You may just cry. 

“...Please?” 

König snorts, pinching your cheek and fetching a key from his back pocket. 

“Alright, filthy, let’s go”

Let me know if you wanna be tagged when chapter 2 gets posted!

divider by @thecutestgrotto

Let me know what you think!

[clcmentines]

the two most horribile people you know deserve each other.

tumblr user @/inkskinned / i want you to know that i'm awake/i hope that you're asleep, car seat headrest / familiarity breeds contempt, google / no children, the mountain goats / tumblr user @/willowcrowned

[zizigy]

Happy late Halloween! 🦇

[random-brushstrokes]

Walter Gamerith - Grete Gamerith On a blue couch (1936)

[melancholic-thing]

Summary: You were always told that your impulsivity would get you in a mountain of trouble, and the moment you saw him, standing tall and strong among the fallen gladiators in the colosseum, you knew they were right.

Tags: Historical accuracy is a stranger to me, smut, vaginal sex, Fem!Reader, strength kink, size kink, tsundere König, degradation, mean König, kind of Dubcon, do let me know if anything needs to be added

A gold coin crosses from your hand to the colosseum guards’, warmed by your clutching hand as you pull your hood lower to cover your face. The guard snickers at this. His fingers briefly caress your soft palm, as though this alone could confirm that he knows your identity. 

You don’t blame him, you feel ridiculous in your oversized cloak, the pristine state of the fabric doing little to conceal your background. Yet it was preferable to showing up in the colosseums’ underground in your fine cotton garments, they would be in ruins after tonight either way.  

“You know…” The guard says, interrupting your thoughts “There are grown men who didn’t walk out of his cell alive. A delicate thing like you could be hurt quite badly,” he coos, his condescending tone getting on your nerves, but you know he is telling the truth. Considering what you have seen him do in battle, death might actually be the preferable option. But you have always had a knack for getting out of trouble, and you pray that lady luck takes your foolish hand in this endeavour as well.

The guard shrugs and guides you deeper into the underground. The loud echo of your footsteps worsens your anxiety as you feel your heart beating in your throat. You know that you are the first woman that was not paid to take this route, the first to actually try and fulfil the hidden desire that you know gripped many when they saw him in the arena. The uncertainty of how this night will conclude did not deter you, you have always been told you are as stubborn as you were impulsive.

The stale air makes you scrunch your nose, you can feel the grime gripping onto your skin. You have never felt this filthy, vowing to spend the rest of the night soaking and scrubbing away any evidence of this evening as you can. 

Sooner than expected, you reach the large metal gate to the cell. Rusted with age but sturdy enough to keep a bull at bay. The guard taps on the metal bars with the key. 

“König, you have a visitor, cute one at that” he barks, you hear something shift inside the cell, although it was far too dark to make out any shape inside. 

The guard unlocks the gate, pushing it open with an irritating shrill sound. He lights the oil lamp on the wall, finally illuminating the dark cell. 

Your breath is caught in your throat as you take in the sight before you, the already barren room fades into a blur as the hulking mass of the most feared gladiator to ever set foot in the colosseum sits on his makeshift bed, piercing blue eyes glare at you from behind his veil. 

A hand pushes you roughly from behind and you stumble forward, making you trip and fall to your knees. You glare at the guard, who snickered in response.

“Be careful with that one, she’s a fragile little thing, not like the other women you handle” the guard stretches his arms above his head before closing the gate “Call for me when you’re done” he says before walking away. 

As his footsteps grew more distant, you slowly turned your head to the reason why you were in this filthy dungeon in the first place. 

As he stands to his full height, you sweep your gaze over his massive form, from the thick, hairy legs that flex as slightly as he shifts his weight, to the wide expanse of his chest and abdomen, muscle made for war covered by a thick layer of protective fat. You follow a line of puckered skin that starts at his side, taking cover under the flimsy fabric that’s slung on his surprisingly narrow hips and reemerging to trail his thigh. His skin is covered in scars just like it, of various sizes and ages. 

You finally crane your neck to meet his eyes, your hood falls off your head entirely, but it's not the reason you feel so exposed. 

His eyes, a deep shade of blue that drew you in, surrounded you whole and crushed you under their weight. 

He holds your gaze, the look in those oceanic eyes undecipherable. He exhales, disturbing the fabric of his hood. 

He gestures with his hand, an almost imperceptible twitch of his fingers commanding you to rise to your feet. 

You rise on wobbly legs, your eyes glued to his bear paw like hands. His fingers are long and thick, you’ve seen their strength first hand as they wrapped around the handle of a sword, one that men had to drag into the arena which he was able to swing with ease. 

You feel an ember burn in your core, the thought of those hands on you- any part of you, makes your head spin. 

“Why are you here?” he gruffs, eyes squinting in obvious annoyance. You take in a deep breath and step closer to him, you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. You bite your lip as you gather as much courage as you could, you reach out and grab on to his bicep.You feel the muscle in his arm flexing against your hand, contracting, filling out and pulling the skin taut. 

Your jaw slacks as a surge of arousal rushes to pool in your loins, making you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You briefly wonder if he could feel it, smell the arousal off you like a hunting hound can smell vulnerable prey. 

But there was no need for that, he only needed to look at you blown out pupils to know what you wanted. A low rumble from his chest gives you an additional push as you use your unoccupied hand to slip your cloak off your shoulder, letting it fall to the ground with a delicate rustle. 

The sheer, soft fabric that adorns you barely reaches your thigh. He hums approvingly, wide palms raised to grope your breast. You couldn’t suppress a smile, endeared by his utter lack of tact, going straight in without even a trace of shame.

“Maus…You are too reckless” He says as he takes a hardened nipple between his fingers. You sigh, ripples of pleasure spreading through your skin as he takes his time teasing you. He moves his hand to your neck, never breaking the skin contact. His thumb gently caresses your pulse as you purr. Too lost in your own fantasies to notice the menacing look in his eye.

“Is your life too comfortable for you that you seek out danger, Mäuschen? Is this a game to you?” His grip on your throat tightens, blocking your airways. “Am I one of your toys?”  his tone is pure venom now and you wrap your hands around his thick wrist, trying futility to push him away. He starts to lift you up until you are at eye level, sputtering as your eyes widen in fear, the guards words ringing in your ears. 

Your leg gives a weak kick as your lungs ache. He drops you suddenly and your pained groan turns into a coughing fit. Panic sets in when you realize how badly you messed up, even if you yell out for the guard, König could easily kill you in ten different ways before he hears you.

You scramble onto all fours and try to get to the metal gate. You gain a slight bit of distance from him before a hand wraps around your ankle and pulls you back, the same hand then grips your head and pins it to the cold stone floor. 

A great warmth engulfs you as he holds you down with his upper body, the fabric of his hood covers the side of your face, he huffs a cruel laugh into your ear. 

“I wanna play too, Mäuschen” He grabs onto the meat of your hips and lifts them up, you feel a hard length rub against your ass that makes your mind grow fuzz with each second. 

He reaches around and grabs the hem of your now filthy dress, lifting it and worming his digits between your thighs. You freeze as the rough skin pressed onto your bare cunt, barking a harsh laugh when he felt how wet you were.

“What did he call you? Ah, ‘not like those other women’?” he sneers as he twists his wrist and swipes his finger further back to prod at your entrance. “He’s right, those women had no choice. You come here-” he prods at your pussy with a one digit, the wet sounds reverberating across the cell walls “Soaked. This is exactly what you wanted isn’t it? Filthy fucking Ratte…” 

A mewling sound escapes your lips when he gently rubs your aching clit. A white hot ember burning in your core. Your heart thrums an unsteady beat that makes your head spin. He is right, about everything. You knew his patrons sent him prostitutes every now and again to ravage and claim, it was the reason you came here in the first place. To sate the need that kept you awake for many sleepless nights since you saw him, towering over every opponent in the colosseum, their heads coming off like ripened fruit with every swing of his gladius. The heat that spread over your skin felt like a fever, wrapping around you like a love vine and draining all your energy and consuming your every thought. 

You arch your back and lean back into his touch. He groans and plunges a thick finger into you, using his thumb to draw tight circles over your clit.

“Such a slut… I’ll give you what you want” he punctuates his statement by hastily adding another finger, pumping in and out with a loud squelching sound. The stretch was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. It only makes you eager to feel more of him, you want him to consume you physically the way he’d consumed you mentally, you want more. 

He pulls his fingers out far too soon. He lifts his weight off you and kneels, you crane your neck to look at him, harsh, dark blue eyes lock with yours as he fists his cock. One glance at it has you feeling faint, there is no way that the prep he did was enough, he would break you…

You spread your legs and bring your fingers to your core, pushing three of your fingers inside, your stomach tightens at the realisation that your fingers could hardly prep you enough when they were smaller than two of his own.

He grabs a handful of your ass, using his thumb to expose more of your labia. He gives you a hard squeeze before removing your hand, immediately lining himself up with your entrance. 

You suck in your next breath through your teeth as he starts to push into you slowly, beads of sweat forming over your skin as he stretches you more than you ever thought possible.

He pulls out slowly and with a shuddering sign, he collects more of your slick and spreads it over his length before pushing more of himself into you. A slow, mind melting pace that makes you want to push back against him, but you manage to hold back, letting him use you as he pleases. He grabs onto your hips with shaky hands as he pushes the last inch in as you try to remember how to breathe. Your body fought to accommodate the intrusion as you gushed around him, your brain slowly turning into mush. 

And then he starts to move. 

An agonisingly slow pull that has you gasping for air, followed by a harsh thrust. You wail and claw at the ground, your nails cracking from the friction. The noise you make seems to only serve as fuel for him as he picks up his pace, and you bite into your forearm to muffle the plea to stop. The searing pressure inside you was as painful as much as it was blissful, you couldn’t feel or think of anything other than the heavy weight currently plowing into you and the miniscule bursts of pleasure as his balls slap against your clit with every thrust.

“Tight…” He hissed, leaning in and licking a long stripe from your shoulder to your cheek “Too sweet for a Ratte” you can feel him smirk against your cheek, amused by the name he chose for you. 

He wraps an arm around your neck and presses more of his body weight into you, flattening your body to the ground, not slowing down in his pistoning thrusts. 

The weight on your chest and the arm around your windpipe had you seeing stars, your vision further blurred when his thrusts became more erratic as he chased his own high. Your skin screams, the abrasion from each thrust making you rub against the hard floor. 

Your pleasure is not even an afterthought to him, you doubt he even registers you as anything other than a tight hole for him to degrade and abuse. The thought alone is enough to finally send you over, convulsing with a broken sob as you cum.

His climax is sudden, you only register that he came when he finally stills, grunting obscenities into your ear as your vision is completely blurred now. 

He finally rolls off you, giving you reprieve as you roll to your side and take lungfuls of air. 

You trace your hand over your abdomen, several small cuts and scratches adorn you now. Your nipples are swollen and still tender to touch, still protected somewhat by the flimsy garment you wore. Your knees suffered most, scraped red and raw over the rough tiles. 

You lay there, feeling like your blood has turned to molasses, the sound of panting the only thing letting you know that time is passing. 

Your eyes flutter open when you realize that you were being picked up, warmth enveloping you as he lifts you off the ground  and walks towards the bed. You find yourself nuzzling into his neck. The goosebumps that explode over his skin bring a small smile to your face, 

His bed is a minor improvement from the floor, only giving you a sliver of warmth that you got in abundance when you were in his arms. Still, the exhaustion overwhelmed you, falling asleep as soon as your head touched the “pillow” 

You wake up to the wet drag of cloth over your leg, you lift your throbbing head ever so slightly to see König, kneeling down and tending to your miniscule cuts. His brows were furrowed, not yet noticing you were awake. Once he was satisfied with his work, he places a hand over your shin and takes a deep breath, he seems strangely remorseful for a man renowned for his brutality. 

You shift to sit up slightly and he glances towards you. He grabs a leather flask from his side and helps you sit up, bringing the flask to your lips. You drink slowly, the cool water soothing your throat. 

“Can you stand?” he asks when you finish drinking. You nod hesitantly, taking his hand and standing on wobbly legs. His eyes linger on your hand for a while, a look that you can only describe as annoyance and confusion.

When he was sure you were steady, he grabbed your cloak from the floor and handed it to you. He walks over to the gate and bangs it repeatedly, yelling out the guards name and startling you. 

“Poor thing, you look like you’ve been chewed” The guard snorts. You pull your cloak lower and shuffle out of the cell. You don’t notice the glare König give the guard when he tries to take you by the shoulder, making him drop his arm to his side immediately. 

You don’t remember the walk to your house, all your energy dedicated purely to not falling over. Only when you enter your private bath do you realize that he has cleaned his spend from your thighs and crotch. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You ask about him, and everyone was eager to answer. 

A warrior captured from a southern tribe, he was purchased by a wealthy politician and forced to fight in the colosseum. He was beloved by the masses, every time he stepped into the arena, it seemed to almost bend to his will, no creature, human or otherwise, could defeat him. His unbreakable spirit gained him notoriety and favour with the elite class, lavishing him with expensive gifts, of which he only accepted food, drink, medicine, and women. 

You think back to what he said.

“Am I one of your toys?” 

You wonder how many people pass by his cell simply to gawk and stare. Poke at the caged beast knowing they were safe behind the metal bars. You wonder how tightly his jaw would clench when that would happen, hands itching to reach through walls and ravage those that belittle him. 

Or maybe he’s nothing of the sort, maybe he simply aches to pass through those damp, musty walls and be free of hundreds of eyes waiting for him to fall. 

You head to the temple, leaving offerings of gold and flowers, hoping for divine guidance as you make what might be the most foolish choice in your life.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Each step you take in the underground sounds like thunder in your ears as you run, the guard laying unconscious after you offered him wine that’s been tampered with. The keys feel like an ember in your pocket as you run towards the cell where Konig is kept. 

You reach the gate, somehow it looks smaller than you remember it. You waste no time opening the door and marching in blindly. “Konig, we have to hurry” you can’t see him clearly, but you see the shadow-like figure rise to its full height. 

He doesn’t move, just stares for what feels like an eternity to you. “Ratte…? Was ist-” 

“We do not have time right now! Just follow me if you want to leave” You don’t wait before you turn and run down the underground tunnel. You soon hear the loud footsteps of your giant following you, catching up with ease. 

You make your way out of the colosseum underground, finding a tunnel that leads to a forest, a road hidden and unknown to most. You thank your adventurous youth for the many discoveries that now aid you in this journey. 

You find the horse that you had tied to the tree trunk, the largest and sturdiest one you could find, as well as a small carriage for supplies,  as much as you could find, praying that Konig would be able to survive in the wilderness by himself. 

Konig examines the horse and supplies, giving the horse a gentle pet as he looks back at you. Even in the darkness of night and with the hood on his face, you could see the hurricane of emotions in those eyes. 

“Thank you” he says, it feels choked, like he was still processing being out of his cell. He looks at the colosseum, his prison, standing tall and imposing. “What are they going to do to you?” he asks, you aren’t even sure if he was addressing you or thinking out loud, but you answer regardless. 

“I don’t know, but I am sure there will be consequences” you huff a short laugh before you continue “Maybe I will be in the colosseum next” 

A joke, albeit a dark one, seems to bring him out of his trance as he snaps his head towards you, eyes wide with unmistakable fear.

He looks from you and back towards the colosseum a few times before glancing back at the horse. A decision is made in a split second and you are scooped up into his arms as he rushes to the carriage

“What on earth are you-!”He uses a spare piece of rope to secure your arms together and then tie you to the carriage, much to your utter bewilderment and without paying any of your objections any mind. 

The carriage rattled and shook when the horse began to trot, into dense forest and away from the comfort of your home you begin to panic, your voice rising to a shrill tone. “No!  you have to stop! This is insane! I-I-I can’t do this, I need to go back!” The carriage halts abruptly as Konig gets off the horse and stomps towards the carriage. 

In a swift motion he removes his hood, shoving it into your mouth and silencing your diatribe, he lifts a finger to your face as he breathes heavily, nostrils flared and brows pulled tight. 

“Quiet, Ratte, or else believe me I will cut your tongue off” he spits between gritted teeth. You bite on the fabric and suppress a sob, hanging your head as he mounts the horse again. You briefly wonder if the gold coin you had offered in the temple was of shoddy origins, or if this was truly the only payback lady luck would accept for her years of service. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Your head bangs against the side of the carriage as you are jostled awake. You seem to have fallen asleep at some point during the night. You groan as your entire body aches. Both from the events of that titular night as well as the rocky trip. 

You can only assume over half the day had passed, which you spent a considerable amount of either sleeping or spacing out as the scenery whizzed past you. You had spat out the hood at some point in your sleep, it now sits comfortably on Konigs head. You lament the missed opportunity for a proper look at his face, the darkness of last night and your panicked state meant you could only remember a blurred image, all that stood out to you was his large crooked nose.

You also notice that he untied you bindings while you slept, for which you were eternally grateful, the last thing you need is blisters from friction to add to the list of maladies you have accumulated. You snack on a dried fig to sate your hunger, being mindful not to over eat.

“There is a stream close by. We will stop to get some proper food“ König says, rolling his shoulders and glancing back. You try to lay as comfortably as you can among the supplies, waiting to hear the telltale sound of flowing water.

You must have dozed off, as you are bolted awake by fingers flicking your forehead harshly. König is standing over you, eyes squinting in a smile when he sees you pouting up at him.

 “Wake up, Ratte, you need to help now” 

“Can you stop calling me rat?” you say, voice rough and scratchy from underuse.

“I didn’t, I called you Ratte, use the back of your throat more” he gestures to his neck to emphasise his point, your eyeroll is met with a huff of laughter as he turns and walks towards the stream. 

The soft babbles of the water bring a smile to your tired face, you get off the carriage and scan the area, noting that the camp has been set up and the fire was already burning. You aren’t even sure what you were suppose to help with, did he just want company? 

“Can you fish, Ratte?”

“Not at all” 

“Of course not” he breathes, rolling his eyes. This irritates you, why did he even ask you then?

“What is that supposed to mean?” you cross your arms as he saunters towards you, gesturing at your, well, everything. 

“You are spoiled, too soft to be useful” 

“I am not!” You have to resist stomping your foot, the last thing you want is to give him more ammunition. 

He reaches his hand out, the back of his knuckles caress your cheek gently before he cups your face 

“Feels very soft to me”

He renders you speechless, your brain cannot conjure any thought besides how warm and nice his palm feels against your face, he seems to be in a similar trance, as his eyes are the softest they have been since you’ve met him.

He breaks out of his trance when you nuzzle your face further into his palm, his whole hand engulfs your face and pushes you down until you're sitting awkwardly on the floor, he rushes to grab some sticks and a small knife. Dropping them to your lap and ordering you to whittle while he stomped towards the stream. 

You try to focus on the task given to you, but watching König, submerged up to his waist, muscular back tense and glistening in the sun, he is too distracting for you to be able to focus on anything. Then he lunges forward, water splashing around before he reemerges with a fish in his hand. You drop the stick you were halfheartedly working on and clap excitedly. 

“That was incredible! Well done!” you squeak, he turns to you with widened eyes, stiff as though he was smacked across the face. He takes a step back to steady himself and slips on one of the rocks under the water, tumbling back and losing the fish in the process. 

“Verdammte Hölle, What is wrong with you?!” he yells when he straightens himself again, wet hood clinging to his face, he looks far too silly for you to take him seriously, so you giggle out an apology and promise not to do it again. He orders you to turn around so you wouldn’t distract him like that again. You would tell him he was the one distracting you but he seems terrible at taking compliments, so you simply comply. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

After securing and cooking a decent meal, the sun begins to set. The two of you grab a woollen blanket and attempt to settle in. The chill in the air seeped through your body, with no amount of tossing and turning helped. You miss your bed, the comfort of a pillow and soft, exquisite sheets was something you took for granted. 

Annoyed, you decide to take it out on the source of your blight, the giant currently laying on his back pretending to sleep and not notice your displeasure. You walk to where he’s laying and plop down next to him.

“What do you want, Ratte?” he grumbles, not even opening his eyes. 

“I’m cold” you whine. 

“And I am tired, now go away” 

“König…Please…” you summon your most pathetic tone, one which always got you what you wanted in life.

He opens one eye to glare at you before exhaling harshly. He raises his arm, an invite which you eagerly accept. Nuzzling into his side with a content hum. The softness and warmth of his body could rival a king's bed at that moment. 

You place a hand on his chest, which he grabs and rests on his abdomen at lightning speed. You suppress a smile at that, you wonder if he doesn’t realize you could feel his racing heartbeat against your head as you rest. You lace your fingers together, which he doesn’t seem to mind. 

Takes a deep breath before speaking, his eyes now fully opened “Why are you like this?” 

You rise a bit and look down at him, his stare is vulnerable and soft, almost childlike. You doubt many got to see this view of the almighty warrior, and you doubt he allowed many people to see him so defenceless.

 “Like what?” 

“You are so…” he shakes his head, the look in his eyes is full of reverence and wonder. “Strange” 

You chuckle at his choice of word, sleepiness making you even more affectionate. You lean in, giving him a chaste kiss through the mask. You feel him hold his breath, his arm coming up to hover over your shoulder. You pull back to see him looking up at you drunkenly.  He runs his hand through your hair and gently scratches your scalp, making you purr drowsily.  

“You’re strange” you tease before nuzzling into his neck. He wraps both arms around you and gives a tight squeeze. You sigh happily and melt into his touch, his heat having now turned you into putty. 

“What am I going to do with you…?” he says, seemingly to the moon. He buries his face in your hair and breathes in deeply, you barely hear what he says before sleep completely engulfs you “Ich werde dich nie gehen lassen”.

A/N: yeah this one just crept deep into my mind and refused to let me be until I finished it. Hope you guys liked it! massive thank you to @uhohdad and @gauloiseblue for giving this a look through and helping me tinker with it <3

[gauloiseblue]

I thought everything's alright until Brandon posted a 300 yrs old heartbreak song

[hospitaliers]

What doesn’t kill me gives me kinks that are difficult to explain

[themusewithinthemusewithout]

Murray Korman and Salvador Dalì, Dream of Venus, 1939.