Hey there, it’s Dad. I like to write about you and König. This 18+ blog contains dark content, please read warnings carefully and take care. About ☆ - Top Post
𖤓 LONGFORM KÖNIG FICS 𖤓
The Girl Who Conquered The Mountain ☆
╰┈➛ Protective!König x Reader | 183k Words
╰┈➛ You and König have been chosen as unwilling participants in a twenty-four person fight to the death.
Meine Perle ☆
╰┈➛ Octo!König x Reader | 25k Words
╰┈➛ “Just don’t step over the tape, don’t talk to it, and try not to spend too much time in there. Oh, and don’t forget the bucket.”
His
╰┈➛ Stalker!König x Reader | 15.5k Words
╰┈➛ König has an unhealthy obsession with you.
Experimental
╰┈➛ König x Reader | 22k Words
╰┈➛ König helps you with a new technology you’ve been developing. You see something you’re not supposed to.
𖤓 KÖNIG DRABBLES 𖤓
LOSER KÖNIG
Loser!König and Your Panties ☆
Loser!König Finally Breaks Down ☆
Sharing a Bed with Loser!König ☆
Finding Your Nudes On Loser!König’s Computer ☆
Loser!König Tracks Your Cycle ☆
Beach Day with Loser!König ☆
Dress Shopping with Loser!König ☆
Loser!König Spikes Your Drink
Loser!König and Self Aware Dating Simulator!Reader
Roommate Loser!König ☆
Loser!König and Clingy!Reader
Loser!König Cucked by Ghost
Touch-Starved Loser!König ☆
Loser!König and Bimbo!Reader
Loser!König Comforting Heartbroken Reader
Stargazing with Loser!König
Hot Day with Loser!König
Stalkerish Loser!König
Stalker/Loser König Steals Your Things
DOM/ABUSIVE KÖNIG
Jealous Of Your Sex Toys ☆
Catching Him Getting Off
Stalker!König Leaves You Tokens ☆
König Is Insatiable ☆
Jealous!König Makes A Bet With You
Slasher!König
Dacryphilia With König
Gun Play with König
Knife Play with König
König Admiring Your Ass
König’s Voiceline Inspired Drabbles
“They are no match for me” ☆
“Let’s be honest, it’s better off in my hands” ☆
“Who else is with you?”
“I can make you talk”
“Not bad… I’ve seen better”
König’s Uniform Inspired Drabbles
König’s Gloves
König’s Belt
König’s Boots
König’s Teeth
SUB KÖNIG
Sub!König Visits Dominatrix!Reader for the First Time ☆
Loser!König Finally Breaks Down ☆
König Gets Hard at Gunpoint
Humiliating König with Cum-Eating
König & Pegging
König is as Submissive as a Knight to His Liege
GENTLE KÖNIG
Gentle/Protective!König and Spacey!Reader ☆
Gentle!König Falls in Love Without Realizing it
Gentle!König with Insecure Plus Size Reader
Gentle!König Makes You Feel Better After A Long Day
Surprising Gentle!König with Pregnancy
Stargazing with Gentle Loser!König
Gentle!König Helping Around the House
141 BOYS
John Price Knows About Your Crush ☆
John Price Gives You A Spanking
John Price & CringeFail Reader
Ghost Can’t Decide If You Should Finish
HUNGER GAMES AU KÖNIG
Based on the Protective!König Longform Fic: The Girl Who Conquered The Mountain
All TGWCM Bonus Content
Will update frequently, I have a goal of one drabble a day :)
loser könig ‘comforting’ reader after she had a bad breakup/failed date…
(18+) Loser!König x Heartbroken!Reader
WARNING: MANIPULATIVE & COERCIVE BEHAVIOR
Loser!König’s brows are creased in sympathy, cooing reassurances in a soft, compassionate tone - but he truly could not be happier. He has to bite back the smile just begging to make the muscles in his face sore.
Loser!König hated your boyfriend anyway, such an arrogant jerk he was. König would treat you so much better, he would never make you cry. You can’t see it now, but you’re much better off.
Loser!König doesn’t dare miss his opportunity to touch you, rubbing your back soothingly as you cry, his hands dipping lower than they should on each descent of his gentle traces.
Loser!König’s cock is straining against his pants, and he can hardly bring himself to feel ashamed about it. The sound of your stuttered sobs and the sight of tears streaming down your face has his cock at full attention, a bead of arousal forming at the tip and threatening to stain his underwear.
Loser!König scoots closer to you, pressing his thigh to yours as he slings his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.
Loser!König sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, holding back a needy groan when your palm rests on his chest. He can feel your plush, clothed breasts graze against him with each of your faltered breaths.
Loser!König rests his cheek on the top of your head, eyes lulling as he inhales you. You’re intoxicating, he’s high off the scent of your shampoo and your touch, his cock throbbing with each breath of you he draws.
Loser!König will fix you a drink to make you feel better. Loosen you up a little. You’re so weak and vulnerable right now, he’s hoping that your ex not only just drove you into his arms, but into his bedroom as well.
What about Loser!Konig x Bimbo! reader? Konig somehow bagged a total catch and did not know how to act or smth lol
:]
(18+) König x Bimbo!Reader
He’s really not sure how this happened. He suspects that he gave off the ‘jock’ impression from stature alone, and you just never bothered to dig beyond looks. Oblivious to the perverted, deranged, loser of a man that lies festering just beneath the surface.
He’s basically a giant purse. An accessory, a big strong plaything at your side, a hunk of meat to fill the role of ‘boyfriend.’ A trophy, a bodyguard, a long, thick cock to fill you up at the end of the day.
He still lies awake at night, staring at you while you sleep on his chest, entirely dumbfounded. It’s a dream come true, yes, but it was something he had never anticipated, let alone prepared for.
His best defense is staying silent. Never sharing his thoughts or opinions on anything, nodding along with wide eyes at every little minute detail you share about your day, hoping you can’t see right through him. You make it easy, though, because all you ever seem to do is talk about yourself, so caught in your own pink and sparkly bubble it doesn’t even cross your mind to ask him anything about himself. It’s hard to be thoughtful when your favorite flavor of lipgloss goes on sale, or you’re dealing with the harrowing struggle of deciding which color to paint your nails, or the truly distressing drama tearing apart the pack of sluts you call friends.
Tolerating the mind-numbing things you deem significant is all worth it, though. When you’re on your knees, pretty eyes staring up at him as you deep throat his cock, allegedly water-proof mascara streaming down your face while you stave off your gags. Or when you’re straddling him, bouncing up and down on his cock and moaning like a true whore, soft hands feeling up the muscles that keep you on his lap. Or when you’re on your back, legs spread and cunt soaked around him as he watches your tits respond to the ruthless pounding he’s giving you, fucking what little thoughts you have from your head. He doesn’t hold back, abusing your cunt in retaliation for making him endure your idiocy day in and day out, treating you like the simple-minded slut you are. Hips slamming into your trembling thighs, bullying your g-spot, filling you to the brim and forcing a squeaky, annoying moan from you with each thrust. Grunting degradations and manhandling you with a hardened touch until you’re dripping with his finish.
And you love it, too. If it didn’t feel so fucking good he’d laugh. You’re too dim-witted to see how he looks down on you, degrades you, reduces you to your body. You’re just his trophy, a plaything, a warm hole to fuck at the end of the day.
Even if you didn’t know it, you two were made for each other ♡
The other boys think first is the way to go, but no.
König wants everyone to hear what you sound like with their inferior cocks inside of you, because he wants them to hear how much louder, how much whinier, how much needier you sound with him in comparison.
The other boys think you’ve already been stretched out and loosened beyond use by a room full of brute men, they think König’s gotten the short end of the stick. He wants them to know his cock is big enough to make any cunt seem tight. He wants them to hear how you cry about how he’s too big, how you can’t handle such a thick cock even after being fucked by everyone in the room.
The other boys think you’ve long been ruined by the second-to-last finish stuffed deep in your gaped, cum-filled cunt, but König wants to show them how much further he can push you. If they think the moans that can be heard down the street are impressive, wait until they see how far your eyes roll in the back of your head, how you go from clawing at the sheets to entirely limp in his hold, completely submit to his cock and the intoxicating pleasure he gifts you.
König wants them to see the tears that stream down your face at the feeling of his thick, merciless cock abusing your g-spot. König wants them to see how he can coerce you to finish three more times long after they think you’ve been milked dry.
König always goes last because he wants to ask you mid-finish how he measures up compared to everyone who’s come before him.
“Come on schatz, tell the boys whose cock feels the best.”
“K-König!”
♡ König Drabble Masterlist ♡
♡ “Let’s be honest, it’s better off in my hands” ♡
The moans that pour from you are whined, squeaky, and desperate.
König’s pace is ruthless, fucking two thick fingers into you while you squirm beneath him. Bruises are sure to bloom on your sensitive skin at his hand, the knuckles on his unused fingers brutally slamming into the crook of your thighs. Your cheek is smushed into the mattress, presenting yourself on all fours with that plush ass on display for him as he pumps into your cunt from behind.
Every muscle is tight and trembling, fingernails clawing at two fistfuls of the covers while König uses your slick to seamlessly glide in and out of you. He loves the way you come undone with just two of his fingers, devouring you with ravenous, half-lidded eyes. The sound of your arousal and your moans makes König’s stiff, aching cock lust for your eager cunt.
Not yet.
He wants to ruin you first.
He wants to fuck a pathetic, pliant, pleasure-intoxicated slut, he wants your limbs too weak and gelatinous to put up a fight. He wants you sniveling and sobbing underneath him as he coerces orgasm after orgasm until it’s almost painful. He wants to see tears trailing down your cheeks as you bounce degradingly underneath him. He wants you tight and writhing as you try to escape his powerful thrusts into your dripping cunt with a cock that you can hardly handle.
Not yet.
A stuttered moan works its way through grit teeth, coating his fingers with a generous, glossy sheen of your arousal with each unrelenting plunge. Your voice is nothing more than a whine, pleas high-pitched and broken as your sore, aching cunt succumbs to his hand, bottoming out to the knuckles of his thick fingers.
König’s gives a firm smack to your ass, reveling in the way your plush ass responds to harsh touch, the way you flinch and gasp at his forceful hands.
A smug grin plasters on his face when you tighten your grip onto the blankets to release the tension building up in your lower abdomen, twisted into knots and pooling with euphoric warmth. His abusive fingers are rough, his pace strict and disciplined, never wavering his cruel rhythm even when you clench around him.
“König, König! G’na come!”
“That’s it, come for me, come all over my fingers, liebling.”
Would you please write some incel loser Köni x AFAB Reader with cnc and gunplay? Something where the reader asks König to stalk them home and forces them to the bed.
Ty ty ❤️
♡ (18+) König x Reader - CNC & Gunplay ♡
What a silly game you want to play. He actually gives a raspy two-note laugh at the suggestion, but the contemplative hum that follows sparks hope.
It’s those pleading, wide eyes and the soft hand that nervously fidgets at your side that makes him fold. He’s always had a hard time saying no to you, little one.
You’re unable to stave off the shake in your fingers, tapping on the bar’s tabletop and swiveling on your stool to soothe your racing thoughts. You ignore the stare burning into the side of your face from across to room, pretending not to notice the commanding presence begging for your attention. The drink helps, and from giddiness alone you can’t help all but inhaling it.
You’re quick to pay, both your nice shoes and legs made of gelatin putting a wobble in your strides when you exit the bar. Staring at the lockscreen of your phone in a failed attempt to distract from both your nerves and the urge to look over your shoulder.
The key tings against the lock as trembling hands fumble the simple task of opening the door. You can’t hear him, no, either the quickened pulse in your ears or the experience from his job stacking the cards in his favor - but you can feel his presence behind you. A searing stare you can’t see, but brings the hairs on the back of your neck on end regardless.
Your breaths have turned shallow, escaping parted lips as the door creeps open to a dark, lifeless home. You don’t even have time to turn the lights on before you’re snatched by a pair of strong arms and forced inside, the sudden restraint robbing you of breath.
“Sh, sh, sh,” He coos, low and spine-tingling. A calloused palm swallows half your face, muffling your squeaks and objections. The sole of his boot closes the door behind him with a click, keeping you firmly pinned to the space under his chest with a forearm snug across your collarbones.
Flailing limbs still in compliance when the muzzle of his gun presses to your temple, applying just enough pressure for it to be uncomfortable.
“That’s a good girl,” he purrs, the low vibration of his words reverbing in your ribcage.
Your hands cling to his forearm, knuckles white as you claw at his sleeves, a breathy, nervous laugh escaping the tight spaces between his fingers.
“Run or scream, and you’re finished, ja?”
His hand follows your desperate nod.
“Very good.”
His soothing praises are lined with cutting condescension.
He leans down to press the side of his face to yours, the stubble of his jaw scratching against your soft flesh. His words are just a deep, eerie hum in your ear, the heat of his breath sends a shiver down your spine.
“If you keep it up, you might just make it out of this alive.”
Your eyes lull and your lower abdomen floods with a sickeningly sweet warmth in response to his dangerous words.
Your feet stutter for balance when he gives you a firm shove forward, releasing you from your restraint. A helpless little lamb you are, fully blown eyes darting between the gun in his hands and his half-lidded eyes, devoid of empathy as you tremble beneath his superior stature.
He offers a pleased hum, those darkened eyes crinkling as he gives the gun a shake.
“Go on, little one. Show me to your bed.”
The nervous swallow you make is visible, your hands smoothing out your shirt as you make your unsteady legs follow orders.
You’re not going fast enough for his liking, though, his strong hands giving you another shove with enough force to nearly make you trip. He laughs as he watches you struggle to your feet, his demeaning hands and tongue staining your cheeks with heat.
Sweaty hands are clenched into fists at your sides as you step into your bedroom. Before you can even turn to face him, his greedy hands are around your waist, effortlessly manhandling you onto the bed, ignoring your gasps and your instinctual, futile swipes at his arms.
You freeze when he presses the muzzle of his gun to the center of your forehead, the black steel and the hand wrapped around it just a blur in your near sight. The bed shifts under his weight as he positions himself between your thighs, keeping you obediently pinned in place with the threat of his trigger finger. An electric, addicting jolt shoots down your spine, finishing with a flourish of warmth that pools beneath your stomach.
“Going out all by yourself, dressed like a hure, hm?”
Your shallow, nervous breaths are music to his ears, the perfect accompaniment to his steady grinds across your front as he looms overtop you, his degradations spoken in with a silken tongue.
He leans in slowly, relishing in your pathetic whimpers before pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your cheek. He keeps his voice in your ear, his deep and soothingly spoken words knotting your insides.
“You were asking for it, little one.”
You shudder beneath him, each breath of air forcing your chest to graze against his. He grunts, low and sinful to pair with a drawn-out grind against you.
When he sits back, he keeps the aching cock in his pants pressed to your front, the gun dragging agonizingly slow across your face. Grazing across the ridge of your nose, catching on your bottom lip and pulling it down, a pleased hum from deep in his chest when it springs back into place.
He carefully watches your eyes, dilated and sprung with thrill, heaving nervous breaths as the gun glides down the curve of your chin, your neck, your collarbones. He’s applying enough pressure for it to be uncomfortable, making sure his threat is impossible to ignore. Keeping your fear right at the forefront, never letting you forget who’s in control. Each breath you take doesn’t stay in your lungs for long, shallow, weighted breaths that escape parted lips.
You flinch, a gasp leaving you when a brute hand tears through your top, shredding the fabric with an audible rip as he exposes your chest to the air. The cool steel pulls goosebumps to the surface when it brushes against your breasts, nudging the torn fabric to the side to get a good look at you.
His eyes flare for a moment before narrowing, ravaging the sight of your chest stuttering with your broken breaths.
Konig’s hardened hand palms over your breast, roughly kneeding the flesh with his rugged fingers, ignoring your wince and the inhale sucked in through clenched teeth. His low, sinful laugh bleeds into a groan as he finishes out another slow grind between your thighs.
“Can you feel it?” He purrs, “Can you feel how hard I am for you?”
Your stare follows the gun as it drags over your chest agonizingly slow, those icy blue eyes meeting yours.
“You’re going to take it like a good girl, aren’t you?”
A swallow catches in your throat and leaves you in the form of a squeak.
The click of the safety echoes dangerously throughout your bedroom, the rapid beat of your heart skipping.
“Aren’t you?”
“Yes- yes!” Your voice coveys nothing but fear and desperation, jumping to appease him with a frantic nod.
His lips stretch into a wicked, smug grin before he’s tearing the rest of your clothes off, jerking your body around with brute force to free them from your limbs, taking pleasure in your cute little gasps.
Fully exposed, spread open around his thighs - he licks his lips when he catches the sheen of arousal coating your cunt.
A deep, dangerous hum leaves him, a gut-churning smile spreading on his face. The feeling of the cool steel tracing down your slit has you whining, your muscles tensing around him. Strong, sturdy tights refuse to let you shut your legs as he glides the gun back and forth, grazing over your clit and making you squirm.
You whine when he pulls away, shrinking in on yourself as he brings his gun to your face, tilting it carefully to show you the slick arousal coating the barrel.
“You see? So wet. You wanted this, little one.”
A squeak catches in your throat, stunned by his brazen words and entirely pliant when he presses the gun to your parted lips.
“Clean your mess.”
You give the faintest shaky nod, pretty blown eyes staring up at him as your hesitant tongue swipes beneath the muzzle.
König’s lips pull back when he laughs, his eyes half-lidded as he watches your tongue polish his threat. He can practically hear the heart fluttering in your chest between your meek sighs.
“Don’t be shy,” He purrs, gently swirling his wrist to goad the gun further into your mouth.
His demands are spoken so gently, an eerie, sharp contrast to the gun he jams between your spit-stained lips, ignoring your muffled whines as you clean your arousal from his gun. He forces the bitter taste of metal deeper into your mouth until it’s uncomfortable, wedging your jaw open and teasing your gag reflex with each slide back and forth over your tongue. He snickers at your stifled, unintelligible objections until he’s satisfied, granting relief when he pulls the barrel from your mouth. Your spit cools on your flesh as he rests his trigger hand on your sternum, working himself free from his pants with his free hand.
The aching, thick cock that springs free from his waistband is just as threatening as the heavy gun resting on your chest.
He wastes no time to swipe his tip along your cunt, eagerly swirling around in the generous pool of arousal between your legs. He lets out a groan that bleeds into a condescending laugh.
“Listen to how wet you are for me.”
Another whine leaves you, not bothering to stop yourself from rutting your cunt into his teasing touches. He gives a few gentle but firm smacks to your clit with the tip of his swollen cock before he traces down your slit, circling the entrance of your dripping cunt.
His fingers tighten around the gun, its metal scraping along the soft flesh of your core as he forces his thick cock into you.
“So fucking tight, hure.”
His words are just a growl, paired with a particularly brutal thrust as he bullies his cock into you, his head thrown back with a low groan. Each pump into your drooling cunt splits you open a little more, stretching you out inch by inch.
He grabs the back of your thigh, forcing your leg into the air and folding you at the core, pushing himself deeper while you claw at the sheets. A wince pinches your face as you struggle to adjust to his size, teeth clenched in both pleasure and pain from his ruthless cock and his abusive pace.
“You like that?” He grits, “You like it when a man takes what he wants?”
When you sputter, unable to focus on anything but the cock ravaging your cunt, he presses his gun in the center of your forehead.
“Yes!” You cry, the choppy words escaping your jostled body, forced further up the bed with each slam of his hips against the back of your soaked thighs, “Yes!”
A pleased hum is stitched into his groan, the sound of him lubing himself up with your slick filling the gaps between his grunts and degradations.
“I’m going to ruin you,” He breathes, “Stretch you out until you’re useless to anyone else, ja?”
He puts more pressure on the gun until the muzzle is sure to leave a ring-shaped indent on your forehead, hitching your breath with each of his pounds into you.
“I own your cunt, little one. It’s all mine, ja?”
With clenched eyes you nod under his aim, unable to stifle the pathetic, whiny moans he forces with each bottom out into your cunt. Filling you to the brim and then some, his grip on your thigh tightening in possession, practically folding you in half while he robs your cunt of its delicate sensitivity.
“Take it, hure, take this fat cock.”
His growled words tighten your core, a steady heat bubbling in your lower abdomen. Powerful thrusts fuck you cross-eyed and degradingly bounce your body until his domineering figure is just a blur.
“Such a good girl.”
He’s seemed to have fucked the thoughts from your brain, gone limp beneath him, entirely succumb to his powerful, merciless cock, a squeaky moan coerced from you with each of his brutal thrusts.
“Going to fill you up, hure.”
König’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, a sinful grunt behind his lips, disciplined pace wavering. His eyes lull behind his eyelids, strong muscles tightening. With a broken moan he buries his pent-up finish inside you, cock pulsing against your walls with each beat of his heart while he rides out the waves of his pleasure. He gives two final shaky thrusts, stuffing his cum deeper into your cunt with a guttural, strained moan.
His cock stays buried inside of your cum-filled cunt as his pleasure-drunken eyes watch the gun soothingly trace down your middle, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He leans down slowly, muscles still twitching with the aftershocks of finish, and plants a gentle kiss on the center of your forehead.
“This is a huge misunderstanding! I just got lost!”
The coarse ropes around your wrists and ankles are unforgiving, a rashy burn igniting your skin with each desperate thrash against them. Another length of thick, scratchy rope is snug to the space between your chest and your stomach, keeping your back flush with the chair you’re secured to.
You have no idea if anyone can even hear your echoed pleas, the blindfold tied tightly around the back of your head sparing you from your unbearably quiet, freezing prison.
“Please!”
Your voice is raw and sniveling, tears soaking into your blindfold before they can crest your cheeks. You end on a whine, your head lulling forward in defeat.
The sound of a heavy metal door creaking open floods the room, and your head perks up with a gasp.
“Please, please - help me!”
You get no response, only the sound of heavy bootsteps as they approach. Intimidating and confident, each slow, rhythmic step making you brace a little tighter.
You suck in a breath through your teeth, shoulders pulled up and body trembling in your chair.
“Please,” You whisper, your shaky plea made of only breath, “I’m not supposed to be here.”
The bootsteps come to a stop in front of you, the sound of your squeaky, stuttered breaths following.
“No, you’re not.”
You flinch at your captor’s voice, rough and gravelly and stern, certainly not the voice of the savior you were praying for.
“So what are you doing here, hm?”
“I-” Your mouth is dry, words cracked and broken, “I got lost- Please! I made a wrong turn and I got lost! I- I didn’t mean-”
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
He scoffs.
“What business does a brat like you have all the way out here?”
“Wh- it was - my friend! She got drunk, she needed me to pick her up from a- a party.”
His laughs, loud and hearty and truly gut-wrenching.
“There’s nothing out here but us.”
“Y- It was a woods, thing. I don’t know! Some rave in the middle of nowhere, I swear!”
He laughs again, this one low and sinful, a deep hum stitched in.
“Nice try, liebling.”
There’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his low, raspy whisper is inches from your face. The heat of his breath on your cheek sends a shudder down your spine.
“But I don’t believe you.”
You let out a whine, your mouth parting and your brows pinching behind your blindfold.
“Who sent you here, liebling?”
“No one!”
He keeps his face inches from yours, surely enjoying the front row seat to your stammering bottom lip and your pathetic snivels.
“No one?” He asks, tone strict.
The ropes dig further into your skin at your heaved sob.
“I just got lost!”
Your captor laughs again, deep and weighty, a sound that makes your insides twist and forces another whine from your lips.
“I have to admit-”
The cocky smirk on his lips is palpable, dripping from his words and searing your skin on contact.
“I was hoping you would make this difficult for me, liebling.”
You flinch when a large, coarse glove gently melds the side of your face, a gentle thumb hooking underneath your jaw to keep your head titled up at him.
“Usually I prefer more -”
He hums in the tune of condescension as he chooses his next words.
“- Standard methods of torture - ”
He ignores your squirms and your nearly unintelligible, breathy pleas, his hand keeping your head firmly in place.
“But it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to play with a toy as pretty as you.”
Your body stills, breaths ceasing and heart pounding against your restraints at the implication of his threatening words - spoken with an arrogant, yet eerily soft tongue.
Your captor’s gloved thumb grazes over your chin, pulling down on your plush bottom lip and watching it spring into place once released. He guides your face to the side, soft fabric smoothing against your skin as he places a lingering, clothed kiss on your cheek.
The heart beating furiously in your chest halts at the sound of his pant zipper coming undone.
When he pulls away, he keeps his low, whispered words right in your ear.
“Maybe if I take that sweet little voice away from you, you’ll be eager to use it when I give it back.”
(if not or if that’s too dark you can ignore this!! :))
he’s suuuuch a cliche slasher <3
SLASHER!KÖNIG X READER
It’s your fault, really. For thinking you could enjoy a relaxing weekend away from everything. All you wanted to do was hide away in an isolated, peaceful cabin in the woods. Enjoy nature, read smutty stories, and not be bothered by another soul for 72 hours.
Apparently, that’s too much to ask.
The dingy little cabin was hardly well-maintained, smelling of mildew and decorated with furniture that looks like the eighties puked all over it - but it was cozy, and it got the job done.
You’re still breathing life into the cabin long after the sun set, long after you should have been tucked under the covers and snoring away. Your phone blares songs you wouldn’t dare play in front of anyone else, humming along to your guilty pleasures with a wiggle in your hips. The inviting aroma of a sneaky late night snack wafts in the air, warm light pouring from the lamps and out of the windows, illuminating the surrounding woods.
The piercing ringing makes you jump, wide eyes darting to the phone. An old rotary nicknack you hardly noticed, and certainly wouldn’t have thought of as functional if you had. The ring slices right through you, high-pitched and grating. As your tensed shoulders relax, your lips twist in unease. Hesitantly you pause the music, making uneasy steps to answer the call.
“Hello?” You ask softly, not bothering to stifle your confusion.
No one speaks, but there’s someone on the other line. You can practically feel the deep, heavy breaths tickling your ear.
“Hello?” You repeat, brows furrowed and an index finger nervously twirling around the phone cord.
“Do you always vacation all alone?”
The voice on the other end is harsh, dangerous. Intense and deep with a purred condescension stitched in, it sends a shudder straight down your spine.
Your body stills, mouth turned cotton.
“Who is this?” You ask, an unfortunate break in your voice.
“Such a dangerous thing for a little lamb to do.”
You scoff, a smile creeping on your face, “Very funny.”
You laugh, pinching the phone between your ear and your shoulder, “Who is this?”
You rattle off a list of the usual suspects, your cheekiest friends and family members in hopes to get them to break character.
“It’s like you’re inviting trouble in.”
You give a nervous laugh, eyes flicking around the cabin, “Uh-”
Prank call or no, your heart is pounding in your chest. You swallow, parting your lips to speak but you can’t seem to find the words.
“Your dancing was endearing, though, little one.”
Your face drops, a chill wrapping its fingers around your spine and frosting you from the inside out. Feet made of lead, body still except for the rise and fall of shallow breaths.
The line goes dead before you can find a response, an even dialtone in your ear as you try to steady the heart pounding against your ribcage. When your thoughts catch up, fumbling fingers scramble for the rotary wheel, but the even tone cuts off as the lights go out, the life suddenly sucked from the cabin.
You pull in a sharp breath, slamming the phone on the receiver and backing away from it as if it’s a feral, bloodthirsty animal. Your head swivels around, eyes adjusting to the dark and eerie cabin. The adrenaline is coursing now, pulse pounding against your temple and knuckles knocking together.
A loud thud on the outside of the cabin makes you jump, snapping your head in the direction of the noise. A squeak leaves you as a blurred, shadowy figure passes quickly by the window. Your panicked mind is blank, frozen in your place, just barely able to fend off hyperventilation, but not at all the violent trembling.
You’re muttering objections under your breath, pleading desperately with your unwanted visitor to leave you alone, for them to reveal this was all just some big joke.
The furious jingling of metal echoes throughout the cabin, the doorknob rattling threateningly as your visitor tests the lock.
Your fingers come to your lips, wide eyes darting around before you scramble for a hiding spot. The best you can manage is a coat closet, pressing yourself flush to the wall to keep yourself steady. Weak legs ultimately slide to a sit on the stained carpet, arms tightly embracing your knees, pleading with your heavy breaths to quiet.
The first thud makes you crawl out of your skin, a deep, heavy crash against wood. Your hand comes up to your mouth, muffling your squeaks behind sweaty palms.
Another thud has you pinching your eyes shut, every muscle tensed and trembling.
The third busts the front door wide open, shards of splintered wood crashing to the ground as the doorknob slams into the cabin walls.
The whines creep up the back of your throat without your permission when you hear the sound of heavy, confident boot steps, rubble crunching under the soles as they enter.
You shake your head, lips pulled back and tears springing down your face as the slow, commanding bootsteps near. He knows exactly where you are, and he’s dragging out your torture by making you anticipate his painstaking arrival. Toying with his prey, cornering you and making you cry from pure terror. Teasing you, making you feel dumb for thinking you could even hide from him in the first place, reveling in each flinch he knows you’re making behind that door by simply walking.
How powerful he must feel.
An involuntary hiccup escapes you as the closet’s doorknob turns. You’re deafened by your own heartbeat, the door creaking open agonizingly slow, unable to stifle your sobs as he reveals himself in all his glory. Domineering frame towering over you, a hood draped over his face, a butcher knife at his side.
He tilts his head as he looks down at you - what a pathetic thing you are, teeth chattering and sobs stuttering on each breath.
He lowers himself into a squat, apathetic, half-lidded icy blue eyes studying you.
“That was too easy, little one.”
He sticks the flat of his blade just under your chin, tilting your head up to get a better look at you.
His eyes crinkle as his soaks in your sprung, glossy eyes, your tear-stained cheeks, your shivering bottom lip.
“What do you say I give you a minute head start, ja?”
He pulls a squeak from you when he meets your stare again, applying more pressure to your delicate skin with his blade. He creeps forward, closing the gap between your faces to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead through the soft fabric of his mask.
He keeps his face inches from yours when he pulls away, his deep, gritty voice lowered to a whisper when he speaks.
