#fantasy au konig

[writersdrug]

Nectar and Bane - Pt. 1

Pairings: Hunter!König x Witch!Reader

Pt. 2

Summary: König is hired to hunt down a pesky witch by a warlock, who paints you as the most evil thing in the past three centuries. With the promise of finding true love (or, the closest thing the warlock can offer: a brainwashed woman who is forced to dote on the hunter), König sets out on his journey. However, you aren't what he was expecting at all, and he develops a newfound obsession with making you become his.

Warnings: dubcon, mentions of rape, manipulation, kidnapping, sex pollen (kinda? If you squint? not really, but better safe than sorry), corruption kink, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of consuming human organs, unrequited pining, angst at the end, death (not for main characters), cowgirl, missionary, mating press, biting, hair pulling, nipple play, power imbalance, handjob, obsessive thoughts and behaviour (please let me know if I missed any!)

Notes: thought I'd try my hand a fantasy au version of cod, or at least of König. This is really long (over 15000 words) so I split it into two parts. The next part is pretty much done, I'm just exhausted and wanted to at least crank out half. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt 2!

ps if anyone has any suggestions or tips on how to make collages or banners for fics, pleeeaseeee lmk

translations at the end

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Watch your every step. From the moment you step foot into those woods, you can’t trust anything you see.

That’s what the sorcerer had drilled into his head before he had begun his journey. He called you dangerous, cunning… “A sneaky, meddling bitch…” he had grumbled over the table in that crowded tavern.

Two small pouches, one of silver, one of gold, sat in between the two patrons on the table. Stains of ale and coffee rings littered the unvarnished wood. The wax of the thick candle had trickled down and formed small, hardened pools at the base – its flame flickered weakly, casting unflattering shadows against the man’s weathered features, and making the portentous hood covering König’s face only that much more ominous.

He'd listened warily as the sorcerer described the witch – you. Tens of centuries old, too much knowledge and too little wisdom to use it sensibly. You take whatever you want by whatever means possible, and your favored method was using your physical assets and the promise of sexual devotion to coerce those within your web to do your bidding. “Sometimes it’s for her personal gain – sometimes, she does it for fun.” The warlock added bitterly. “Akin to a serpent, she winds you into her embrace, and then crushes your bones before she swallows you whole, saving your heart for last.” You’d done it to him, ensnaring him into your alluring trap, before stealing his spellbooks, his potions, his most prized collections… and vanishing into thin air.

An enchantress, König had concluded.

The warlock’s request? “Kill her. And be quick with it. The sooner this earth is rid of that swine, the sooner we can all rest. And, better yet – bring me her eyes! Potent things, witches’ eyes can be – of course, that is if they’re still working. If the bitch has gone blind, don’t waste dulling your dagger. A handful of her hair would do just fine.”

König had killed much worse for much less, and this sounded like it would be on the simpler side of things. A few days’ worth of hunting and a quick, efficient kill – hopefully, one of his easier jobs, although with the way the sorcerer described you, that might not be. He’d dealt with magicians before; up until now, they had been rather boring to hunt – tedious, but nonetheless, boring. Most of the time, they tried to end him with some elaborate incantation in the few seconds remaining of their life after he’d ambushed them. His silver blade would be slicing across their throats before they could utter five syllables. They were always so intent on murdering their victims slowly and in a flashy manner. With König’s preference for a more immediate result, he was usually the one collecting the fingernails, teeth, and tongues.

(Over time, he’d had noticed that it was always sorcerers ordering the assassination of other sorcerers. He wondered why they had so much of an issue amongst themselves, but he didn’t question it. Whatever kept him fed and paid for his room, he would do it.)

The picture the warlock was painting of you, however, made you seem much craftier and more calculated. You couldn’t resist the glamorous ways of murder via magic – it was written in your nature as a witch. But you played the game with your charisma and wit, too; something magic users didn’t typically rely on (half of the time, because they weren’t charismatic, nor witty). You waited until your assailant would fall to your wicked charm, before dissecting him like nothing more than a toad for your cauldron. If not an easy kill, you at least sounded like you would be an exciting one – but König knew he could get something more from this client for killing you.

“What more can you offer me?” he asked.

The warlock chuckled. “The gold is insufficient, is it?” he leaned forward and hunched his shoulders, speaking in a hushed tone. “Tell me, what do you desire? Recognition and respect? Revenge against someone who’s crossed you? To bring back a loved one from the dead? Or, perhaps, to find a love of your own?”

König’s shoulders tensed, and the rest of the warlock’s utterances fell on deaf ears. Could he possibly give him a chance to find himself someone to love? Someone that he and only he can worship? It was true that he would be happier to live alone, in whatever way that would allow him to be independent of society… but the thought of being able to live alone with someone, someone who was devoted to him, someone who could decorate his hut with signs of life and warmth, someone with a kind smile and a sweet voice, someone who he could spend hours upon hours with, memorizing each curve of their body, the taste of their nectar on his tongue…

He called it love. Others would call him insane. He’d heard it all before – how no one would ever love him, given his profession, his awkwardness in carrying a conversation about anything normal other than how sharp his knives are, and how he uses them… that, and the fact that he never shows his face (“He must be hideous under there…” they would speculate). Nonetheless, he still craved the devotion of an obedient, warm body waiting for him in his cabin at the end of the day – once he did get a cabin. Why should he be denied what everyone else wants?

He knew he was a hypocrite; he couldn’t expect someone else to be so willing to leave everything and run away with him. Not with his insane ideations and obsessions – hell, not with who he was as a person. But if he killed enough healthy rabbits to keep her fed, and if he fucked her hard enough that her eyes rolled back into her head and she couldn’t muster enough strength to escape the mattress… would she ever care about what kind of man he was?

The warlock smiled slowly. “Of course… that’s what all of you sick bastards want.” He said, leaning back and folding his arms. “If it will seal our contract, I will give you whichever woman you choose. I’ll make her yours, and only yours, with unconditional love – even for your damned soul.”

A fair deal, König had thought. Which is exactly what had him currently trudging through the dense woods, searching for any traces of a witch – a sack with two loaves of bread and some apples hung over his shoulder, along with his well-worn tashka stuffed with the coin he had earned over time. His sword was strapped to his hip in its sheath, his dagger (a short sword, when it was compared to the average person) stuffed into the lead-lined, deerskin sheath on the side of his boot; and a pelt, heavy and thick, hung around his shoulders. All he had to his name.

König had done a day of research on you – testimonies and sightings of you ghosting the perimeter of the woods at an early age, hoping to lure some poor soul away as your very first victim. “I imagine she was a succubus in her previous life,” the warlock had spoken, “maybe too much of a whore for even the devil to handle.”

He had caught you one night by luring you to his cabin with the scent of a savory meal. Guessing by your inexperience, and the way you avoided using words as you snarled and thrashed in the warlock’s grip, he assumed you had not yet reached one hundred years old. You were still young and fresh-faced, appearing no more than twenty to human eyes. “After a few decent meals, and reintroducing her to the work of her past life – she’d settled in as the perfect student. It almost felt like having a pet.” He added with a smug smile.

König questioned how happy you were with being reintroduced to the work of your past, but he didn’t comment on it.

After living with the warlock as his student and whore for a few centuries, you turned into a strong, young witch. You didn’t care to go into town, preferring to stay at the cabin and watch over the brews whenever he had to make deliveries or run to the shops. The warlock had no complaints about your desire to stay holed up in his home – fewer people to ogle at you, fewer glimpses into a more civilized life that might tempt you to run away. He’d much rather you be a brooding, antisocial bitch, than watch one of his clients stare at you with a yellowed, lustful grin, like you were some harlot in the window of a brothel.

On one particular day, without any indication of what you were planning, he had returned home from his rounds to an empty cabin – not just empty of you, but of his potion stock, his rarest ingredients, and his most prized spellbooks. He’d run into the woods in fury, screeching your name and hurling threats into the trees around him – but you were gone. Not a trace of you could be found within a five mile radius of his home.

It was like you had never been there, save the absence of his personal belongings.

In König’s opinion, you didn’t strike him as an extremely dangerous individual. Sure, the warlock had harped on and on about how cunning and deceiving you were – but all you had done was lie to him. And from the way he had described the conditions you were under, König didn’t exactly blame you for running away. Maybe this job was a waste of his time…

Still, he couldn’t find it in him to complain, despite the nip of the mid-autumn air, and the fact that he was embarking on what might be one of the most treacherous endeavors of his career. He was getting a decent payout for it – that is, if he lived to finish the job. Additionally, the scenery was a comfort to his journey; wiry birch trees stood high and thickly clustered, their brown and black spots like ever-watchful eyes, staring at the gargantuan hunter as he moved. Their golden leaves mimicked the light of the sun, the real thing blocked out by the overcast skies. A whisper of wind flew by his ears, carrying down and blowing the leaves further along his path with a gentle sigh. As if nature herself was telling the world to be quiet, be still, and prepare for winter.

It was times like this where König became unsure of himself. What if he hated having someone else to care for? What if, deep down, he preferred the silence and the solitude? But then, the loneliness would strike him. The longing to be understood (if that was humanely possible), and the desire to have something warm, alive, and sentient to acknowledge him. It consumed him on those sleepless nights, perfectly warm by the hearth of whatever inn he resided at, yet so hollow without having someone to wrap his arms around.

A swaying movement in the branches above pulled him from his thoughts. Hanging down by a twine thread, tied to one of the spindling birch branches, was a tiny, burlap pouch. It reached a few feet above König’s head, and was drenched in a dark, thick liquid that dripped rhythmically onto the forest floor. Looking to where the drops landed, he noticed the matter on the ground was decaying – a steaming pile of rot was all that was left of the leaves that were once there.

He frowned. The trap was clever – for a witch in their first century. König had expected something a bit more dangerous for someone your age. Maybe the last hunter had been too gullible, and you stereotyped them to all be oafs. Or, maybe you were too old and couldn’t craft traps with the same skill and precision as your younger self.

He drew his dagger from his boot and quickly sliced the twine thread. The pouch dropped to the floor with a squelch, landing in the very puddle of death it had created. The liquid beneath it bubbled and hissed, and the bag soon dissolved to reveal its contents: bits of bone – a kind of reptilian foot, from the looks of it – dried pomegranate seeds, and a fuzzy layer of mold, all appearing to be drenched in some kind of blood.

He carefully stepped around the stinking mess, his eyes turning back onto the path to continue his hunt. He both hoped for and against finding more evidence of your existence. He wanted to get back to town as soon as he could, so he could hole himself up in an inn until his money began to run out – all the same, his mind craved a puzzle and a chase. Though, with how old you were, he doubted there would be much of a chase.

More leaking, swaying hex bags hung from branches as he trudged on, pointing him in the right direction. He didn’t bother to quiet the sound of the leaves beneath his footsteps – the rustling of the wind through the foliage was doing the job well enough. He held onto his dagger tightly, his other hand on his longsword, as he carefully toed through the dense forest. He had to be close – the smell of fennel and turmeric settled around his presence, along with the babbling of a nearby stream.

The sound of a distant tune danced through the trees. The voice was soft, yet clear, and whoever it belonged too was much too confident that they were alone in these woods. König wondered if it was actually you, and not some poor soul who had been foraging for the autumn mushrooms and berries – but he was nearly a day’s trek into the forest. No one would dare come out this far, unless they wanted to be alone. And, they were potentially hiding from something; their own past, perhaps.

He cautiously followed the sound of the tune, still disguising the sound of his own steps within the rustling leaves and wind. His heart thrummed with both uncertainty and excitement; he always did get too thrilled at the idea of a struggle and blood covering his hands. He took a deep breath in through his nostrils, focusing his attention on the voice that carried through the trees, pulling him closer and closer… He gripped his dagger tightly as he crept, reminding himself of the warlock’s warning: cunning, sneaky – be on your best wits.

The voice brought him to the edge of a clearing. The birch trees parted and encircled a few meters of earth, and a few bushes huddled along the far edge, dotted with purplish berries and thorned branches. A wicker basket, woven clumsily and rather lopsided, sat on the ground and caught each berry and branch that was tossed into it. A figure knelt in front of the bushes, carefully plucking the berries with thin, delicate fingers, stained purple from the juice of the berries, and nails that might need a trim soon, unless they were intended to be claws.

The cloaked figure confused König. The voice was too melodic, too clear and fresh for an old witch. He had assumed you weren’t much younger than the warlock, but still old. He remained a few yards away from you, shrouded by the trees and dense foliage outside of the clearing.

It was when you turned your head, dropping your handful of berries into the basket, revealing your face, that he realized how wrong he had been in his assumption.

Your skin was soft, he could tell even with the distance between the two of you. Your lips delicately moved as you sang your tune, your eyes sparkled in contrast to the dull autumn colors that surrounded you. Small wisps of your hair danced around your cheeks as the wind caressed it. Your entire body looked soft, warm, and pliable… exactly what he needed. Craved.

It wasn’t hard for him to imagine it: leaves tangling into your hair as he pressed his fingers around your neck, pushing you to the cold ground and watching as you gasped for air. He’d use his knife, but not to kill you. He’d drag it over your hardened nipples, watching them perk up even more at the prickling sensation, before he’d carve his name into your stomach. Smear your pretty blood all over your pretty face, watch as your eyes widen with horror, as you question how someone can be so deranged and cruel, how he can take so much pleasure in something so vile and horrible-

Or maybe, he could convince you that he just wants a fuck. You looked like you could use one – when was the last time you’d had someone’s lips on your breasts, or their cock in your cunt? It had certainly been too long for him… he couldn’t imagine how long you had gone without being thoroughly ravaged, living in these woods all alone. He could take care of that. He could be gentle, for a little while; holding your wrists above your head as he pushed you against a tree, whispering praise and encouragements into your ear, “… so gut, so Schön, genau so…” taking you from behind as your nipples perked up from the rough texture of the bark, listening to you whine and moan in that sweet voice of yours as he lets out months’ worth of pent up frustration by thrusting his cock into your warm pussy, over and over and over until you scream and tighten around his length, milking the cum right out of him as he fucks you deep, maybe sinking his teeth into the junction of your neck-

He growled quietly, palming his rapidly-growing erection as he tried to clear his head. Stay focused. Kill the witch, and then you’ll get what you want.

Remember the warlock’s promise.

Even if he didn’t need you to satisfy his needs, he could still make this interesting. Not like you could outrun him, anyway.

He stepped into the clearing, and as if by some ironic joke, the wind died down immediately. The crunch of his heavy boots was enough to make his presence known to any living thing within a mile radius.

Your singing stopped. You whipped your head in his direction, and immediately a look of fear fell upon your face. For a moment, the two of you were frozen in a staring contest. You reminded him of a doe, staring at the crossbow of the hunter you had noticed, wondering if this being was actually dangerous, or nothing you needed to worry about. He wondered what he must remind you of, and he wished to hear the panicking thoughts flitting through your mind.

Finally, you broke the trance – you gasped, stumbling backwards and awkwardly standing as you ripped a pathetic, little knife from your boot. You faced him and pointed the knife at him – you held it improperly, and if he truly wanted to make this messy, he could easily make you stab yourself in a struggle. He wondered what it would feel like when your nails dug into his rough skin, dragging marks down his forearms (or his back, if he played his cards right).

You pulled the thick cloak tighter around your body – you were tiny. Well, everything was tiny compared to König. But you were unexpectedly small. With the way the sorcerer had described you, he had expected you to reach his shoulders at least. But there you were, craning your neck to look up at him with fearful, owlish eyes.

“State your business!” You demanded, your voice cracking slightly.

König chuckled in response. You really were too pathetic for your own good, weren’t you? He took you in – your lips were pulled into a frown, parted slightly to reveal your perfect teeth, the way the fabric of your cloak quivered where it bunched in your fist… perfectly ordinary things that ordinary people do. But, besides the fact that you were a witch, something about you made it all so captivating.

“Hey!” you shouted, bringing his eyes back to your gaze. Your fear had given way to a judgmental ire. “Gods, have you ever seen a woman before?!”

König scoffed. “Woman? Yes, of course. I’ve seen witches, too. None as young as you, however.”

Your eyes widened in panic once again. You stretched your knife out towards him as he stalked over to where you stood. “S-stay back! I’ll kill you!”

Your meek threat didn’t slow him down. He continued his advance until he had corralled you against a tree, your one hand bracing against the trunk behind you, and the other holding the knife under his ribcage. The only thing between his flesh and your blade was his linen tunic, which wouldn’t do much to protect him should you decide to stab him – but were you capable of that? Your eyes were so filled with fear as they stared at him, your chin to the sky to take all of him in. Your fingers trembled around the handle of your knife as if the prospect of having to nick him made you uneasy.

“Not with magic?” he asked, his eyes flitting to the bush next to you. He plucked one of the berries between his thick, gloved fingers, rolling the onyx sphere between his thumb and middle finger before squashing it.

You pouted (a sight König could never grow tired of). “I’m not a wi-“

He snatched your forearm, and you yelped, dropping the knife to the forest floor. His fingers easily wrapped around you; he wondered how easy it would be to break it.

“Don’t lie, now.” He ordered, his eyes narrowing with a hint of annoyance. “You’re not good at it.”

He released your arms with a shove. You scrambled back with a fearful expression, swiping the blade from the ground. He watched with interest as you stood several yards away from him, pointing your weapon towards him once again.

“Fine.” You said, holding yourself a bit taller. “You’re right. What’s the crime in that?”

For a moment, König was lost. Why weren’t you trying to weaponize your magic? It was almost as if you had forgotten you weren’t a human. For someone who was supposed to be a cunning bitch, as the warlock had put it, you weren’t very smart.

“I’m not here for justice.” He replied, wiping his glove on his shirt. “Just doing my job.”

“Hunter?” you asked.

He extended his arms – gods, he could have crushed a pillar between those arms – as if presenting himself to you. “Was it not obvious?” he asked, and you could hear the smirk in his tone.

You huffed. “Well, you’re not a very good one. Most hunters don’t make conversation with their prey.”

Prey. He liked that you understood your position, that he was the one in charge here. Maybe you were a clever girl…

“I like to listen to the begging.”

“Begging?”

“For your life.” König folded his arms over his chest, inspecting you closely. The only thing you had to protect yourself was your cloak, and that hardly provided a shield against the wind. Even though you were obviously wary of him, it wasn’t wary enough. You had spoken too many words with the hunter, and had it been anyone else, you might have been dead long before now.

You seemed malleable – book-smart and spitfire, yet all too gullible. Easily manipulated. Just what he needed to brainwash you into loving him. Or, at least, being his pet. You’d never truly love him, he had come to learn that from experience. But maybe, if he could somehow convince you that you needed a big, scary man, who could protect you and fuck you nicely, it would be enough to make you stay. After all, you were too naïve to be alone out here, weren’t you?

Could the warlock perhaps make you his prize? It’d kill two birds with one stone, he could convince you to return whatever knickknacks you had stolen, and your presence would never bother anyone ever again – besides him, but of course, it would never be a bother to bed you every night.

Your expression turned sour. “I don’t beg.”

The tone of your voice sent a shiver down his cock. He’d have to pound that little attitude right out of you.

“Who hired you?” You asked indignantly. The knife in your hand had slowly lowered, now pointing at his feet. Your initial fear seemed to have worn off. Were you brave, or just that stupid?

“It doesn’t matter.” König replied.

“It does to me.”

“You don’t know? How many people have you wronged?”

You scoffed. “I haven’t wronged anyone. People just don’t like it when you call them out on their atrocities.”

König hummed. You had a point. “Your teacher – the warlock.”

For a moment, you scrunched your face in disgust. Teacher. Only a fool as mad as the warlock himself could consider he was any such figure in your life, other than a torturous one. Then, you sighed, shoulders slumping defeatedly, the knife now aimed straight at the forest floor. “That old toad can’t even kill me himself…” you muttered. “What payment did he offer you?”

“He promised me anything I desired of your possessions.” König replied, taking note of the change in your presence. He purposely left out the warlock’s promise to find him a “companion.”

“And what would you do with cursed fig seeds, or stag’s blood?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest (which, König noted, framed your breasts perfectly). “I have no gold – not enough to be a reward for the trouble of killing me.”

“He gave me three hundred gold coin, too.”

Your lips turned down into a scowl. “That’s all?! That absolute hypocrite!” You lodged your knife into the tree behind you and placed your hands on your hips. “I took everything from him, save that disgusting old shed he called home, and that’s all he’ll pay to kill me?!”

Your outburst pulled König from his obsessive staring. “You’re… insulted?”

You turned back to him and huffed. “Well, obviously.” You retorted. “I stole all he had to his name, and he treats me like a fly buzzing in his ear. I deserve a bit more recognition than three hundred gold coin.”

“You admit to it, then.” König said, stepping closer. You appeared to be too angry to notice how near the hunter was to you. “You are a thief.”

You laughed – a sound that König did not expect to be so sweet. “I’ve done much worse than thieving, mind you.” You shook your head. “And he’s done even worse to me.” You sighed, pulling the dagger from the tree trunk and sheathing it back into your boot.

Once again, he was reminded of how small you were. Why weren’t you afraid of him? Sure, you had the advantage of magic while he did not, but you weren’t even acting defensively anymore. You treated him like a traveler who had stumbled across your path, starting up conversation and sharing your story.

“What has he done?” he asked, his interest in you growing by the second. An outcast, despised, hated by others. He felt that the two of you were kindred spirits, and he would not risk losing a connection so rare – one he had never felt.

“You mean he didn’t even tell you?” you said, sounding more hurt than anything else.

“He did.” König sheathed his own dagger as a peace offering. “But I’m coming to think he was not entirely truthful.”

You sighed, looking down at your basket, then back at König. “I suppose I could tell you, since he brought you all this way to kill me. Walk with me – but keep your dagger away. And if you try anything, I’ll slit your throat. Understood?”

He suppressed the urge to laugh. Could you even reach his throat? “The warlock said you would lure me away to your hut, and carve out my heart.”

You huffed disappointedly, walking back to the bush near König. Completely calm, like he had only ever come up to you with the intention of finding a friend. “And yet, he’s still alive, after all the chances I had to kill him. We can stay outside of my hut, if it eases your mind. I’ll let you make your own tea, too. But if you aren’t set on killing me right this minute, I really should return to start drying these out.” You held up your basket. “Before too much time passes, and I can no longer use them.”

König had never given his prey more than a few moments to try and beg their way out of his crushing hands. He couldn’t believe he had even given so much lenience to your baseless trust in him – what he should have done was take the opportunity to grab your face and snap your neck. But he was starting to doubt the warlock’s testimony; you were a thief, yes, but had you really committed any crime? Or were you simply just taking the revenge you deserved from your captor – or, as the warlock called himself, your master?

König sighed. He gestured his hand out, signaling for you to lead the way.

You frowned. “First, give me your word.” You demanded.

“I will not harm you.” He said, with a hand over his heart. He didn’t care about forcing you to make the same promise – you were harmless enough. He did, however, make sure to avoid saying that he wouldn’t touch you. Although he was developing a few ounces more of respect for you, who knows? Maybe you would find a reason to drag him into your hut and satisfy both of your needs – and, if he was lucky enough to get that far, maybe you’d offer for him to spend the night in a warm bed, and he could be saved from sleeping on the cold earth for one night.

His word seemed promising enough to you. Threading your arm through the handle of the basket, you began marching through the woods, watching the ground carefully as you stepped over roots and twigs.

König followed by your side, watching you from the corner of his eye. You really were helpless – all it would take is a strong push from him, and you’d be tumbling down, maybe hitting your head on a stone, or rolling down the mountainside until your neck snapped. Even if the fall didn’t kill you, he could easily land one hit to your chest and pierce your lungs with your own ribs. But here you were, worrying more about the uneven forest floor than the lumbering creature by your side.

“What did he tell you?” you asked, pulling him from his fantasies. “About the beginning, when he took me.”

König laughed in pity. “He made it sound like he caught you, not that he took you.”

You sighed. “He didn’t catch me… well, I suppose he did. More like how animals are caught.” You adjusted your grip on the basket, still watching the ground beneath you. “I was the botanist’s assistant before he came along. Stared at me like I was naked. He would come more often than he needed to -  asked me where I was from, who my father was – things I didn’t understand why he needed to know. I still don’t.”

König didn’t understand himself. He continued to listen, the sounds of his footsteps drowning out your quiet ones. He began to wonder just how much of the warlock’s testimony was true.

“He came to the shop one night.” You continued to recount the story. “I was lighting the lanterns in the greenhouse. It was storming, and I didn’t hear him. He bludgeoned me and dragged me into the streets like I was some sort of animal.” You paused, turning your own words over in your head. “I suppose I was, to him.

He brought me back to his cabin – that’s when he started the curse. All I remember when waking up is feeling sick. I tried to stand, but it- everything felt heavy, like I was stuck in mud. I managed to crawl outside, and he was there. Saying my father wouldn’t recognize me, that he had killed the old lady at the botanist, that everyone would think that I had killed her… that I would be burned if I returned to the village. That I would forever be an outcast as long as I lived – as a witch. As what he made me.”

You paused again, for longer this time. König looked down at you, observing how your face twisted in… disgust? Anger? Your eyes were somewhere else, possibly somewhere where you could light the world on fire, drain the life from everyone who had ever done you wrong. König had felt that same hatred before, and he had learned to let it pass. You were still stuck there, wishing you could drive a blade into the warlock’s neck – and more.

“You stayed, then?” König asked, returning his gaze to the trees before him. “Why?”

You scoffed. “It’s not like I could go anywhere, not during the change. For the first fortnight, I couldn’t do anything but crawl on the ground and wail. And he let me – I’d get to the edge of the woods, and he’d be there to drag me back. Drug me into the hut at night and held me, fucked me, saying he was protecting me and similar bullshit. Of course, he was right; at that moment, I was as good as dead if I had ventured out on my own. And once I’d gotten my strength back, I was still a new witch. I’d never be accepted into the village – witches never are, despite the warlocks being the vile ones – and I had no idea how to live as one. So I relied on him for a while, until I knew enough to make it out on my own.”

König hummed in thought. Despite the initial desire to snatch you himself and have his way with you, his fists clenched at the thought of you being dragged around by the warlock. This life wasn’t one you had chosen, and yet the very person who had forced it upon you was killing you for it. It made something within him boil, something deep and buried, that he had thought had been tucked away for good.

You didn’t deserve any of this. He was fighting with himself in that moment, but the desire to show you what you should have been given was consuming him. He wanted to tell you that he knew what it was to be an outcast, he knew what it was like to feel lonely and crave being alone at the same time. To wish that you had the power to hurt anyone you deemed deserving of it, yet to have that someone who would never hurt you.

He would do it. He would be that person for you, he would be the one to kill for you. He knew he was getting ahead of himself – after all, he was hired to kill, you, not fall for you. And he knew it was just another one of his delusional fantasies… but he couldn’t help himself. You were like him, which was something that he had not yet been able to find. Something primal in him told him to sink his teeth in, to hold onto you until you stopped your struggling and realized that this would be good, for the both of you.

He was insane. But did it matter what he was, as long as he could give you what you needed?

“So, yes-“ you continued, bringing König out from the depths of his thoughts. “- I stole from him. Took the books he used to teach me, maybe a few ingredients for potions, a few seeds to start my own garden… but compared to what he took from me, I might as well have taken a loaf of bread.”

You stopped suddenly, and König came to a halt beside you. You nodded your head to the scene before you. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

König looked ahead: the trees parted into another clearing, larger this time. A rickety hut leaned against a wall of rock, made of thin, birch logs and mud slathered on top to keep out the wind. In the center of the clearing was a large stone, positioned near a pile of ash and rocks. A log lay near it, possibly another place for someone to sit. A small garden sat closer to the creek before your hut – it didn’t look to be doing very well, but that was expected as winter approached.

By the creek, there was a large, twisted oak. Its roots hung directly off of the bank and down into the water. Its leaves had fallen to the earth and mingled with the rest of the foliage by now – the entire thing had crimson paths winding around it, hauntingly similar to blood-filled veins. Several pieces of clothing and fabric hung from the branches and swayed in the autumn wind.

As you marched ahead, placing your basket down by the makeshift firepit and disappearing into the hut, König took a few, cautious steps forward. He was both charmed by the simplicity of it, and despondent that you were forced into this lonesome sort of life. He wanted to drag you from this measly hovel and show you something better.

But how? He was no better off than you were. All his earnings were spent on a room at the nearest tavern and a decent amount of ale to help him fall asleep. He never cared about having a home, as long as he had a place to keep out the cold. He didn’t think it would be good enough to drag you back to the village and convince you to spend the night with him in a thin-walled, noisy inn… but, even if he didn’t end up killing you today (something that seemed more and more likely with each passing second), he refused to leave you in this hell. If it was a cozy cabin, built so far away from civilization for the sole purpose of privacy and comfort, he could understand. Maybe even plead his case to you so you would let him stay. But this – this was a last resort. A broken down spot in the woods that you made for your banishment, for hiding. This wouldn’t do.

Call him insane. Call him crazy, hopeless, sick in the head… maybe his desires were founded on the thought that he would give you what he had never received.

You emerged from your hut, the thin, wooden door clanging shut behind you. You looked at him with a puzzled expression. Why was he still standing at the edge? You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and made your way over to him, your hair blowing across your face.

He watched as you stopped in front of him, your brow creased with question. Your head tilted back to look up at him, yet any traces of fear that you had shown earlier were gone. You looked at him like you’d known him for the past hundred years. It made his heart ache within his chest.

How could anyone have painted such a wretched picture of the woman who stood before him?

“Is everything alright?” you asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Like I said before, if you’d rather we stay outside-“

König interrupted you, reaching down and grabbing the sides of your arms firmly. You sucked in a breath warily, but you were still not afraid of him.

“I- you-“ Scheisse, what is he trying to say? He wanted to take you away, he wanted to show you how similar the both of you were to each other, he wanted to show you what (he thought) love was – slow, gentle, possessive, and strong. He wanted to keep you in his pocket, both to keep you safe from the world, and to make sure you couldn’t be taken from him. He wanted you, you, you –

This is insanity. He knew it. But that didn’t stop the fire in his chest, and the questionable throbbing in his trousers.

You knew. Your eyes said everything as they softened, as your lips pressed together into a knowing, sad smile. Were you going to turn him down? Would you say that you preferred it this way, that you liked being alone and living like a prisoner on the run? You took his face in his hands, and he had a foreboding sense in his gut that you might tell him to leave.

Quickly but gently, he cupped one hand at the back of your neck and pulled himself down to you, pressing his lips to yours before you could speak. It was only right, he thought, as he held the kiss – you didn’t understand that he could help you, he could build the life you deserved and keep you safe from any other hunters and warlocks. He placed his other hand on your lower back and pulled you in, moving his lips against your own and praying you wouldn’t deny him.

Like an angel answering his prayers, you tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your toes and kissing him back. He tugged his teeth at your bottom lip, and you so graciously allowed his tongue to slip past your teeth, letting him taste you. He whined, flooded with relief that you didn’t try to shove him away and call him deranged.

His cock was quickly growing hard, but he ignored it. Right now, he needed to figure out exactly what he needed to say to make you-

A raven’s call tore through the air, piercing his thoughts. It was much too close than any bird would naturally be.

He tried to turn his head in its direction, but you dug your fingers into his hair, making him stutter and freeze on the spot. He grabbed your hips, about to pry you away-

You pressed your lips firmly to his, and he heard you faintly muttering incoherent words against him. The world around him was suddenly showered with colors: purples like the berries that had stained your fingers, oranges like the leaves that were scattered across the ground, silvers like the thick clouds that blanketed across the sky… The black spots on the birch trees suddenly blinked and flitted across his vision; thousands of them stared at him, and he heard your sweet laughter echoing in the distance as the world spun, spun, spun…

He felt the cold earth press to his cheek, and the last thing he remembered was a sickening ache in his stomach.

He should have heeded the sorcerer’s warning.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"… so gut, so Schön, genau so…”

... so good, so beautiful, just like that...

#konig #konig x reader #konig x you #konig x yn #konig cod #konig fanfiction #fantasy au konig #cod fantasy au #cod x reader #konig x reader smut #konig smut #konig nsfu

[fl3shm4id3n]

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

#konig x reader #konig x y/n #konig x you #konig x female reader #konig x fem reader #könig x reader #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig x female reader #könig x fem reader #konig imagine #könig imagine #konig cod #könig cod #medieval au #fantasy au

[homicidal-slvt]

SHIT I JUST THOUGHT ABOUT THE FACT IT'S MERMAY

Whichever gets the most votes I will write. I may write some additional ones as well- who knows.

Anyways it's up to you guys.

#cod konig #cod mw2 x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #call of duty #john soap mactavish #kyle 'gaz' garrick #johnny mactavish #john 'soap' mactavish #john mactavish #cod gaz #cod soap #mw2 könig #könig #vee's cod works #cod fantasy au

[day0walkersdrafts]

“You seemed serious,” König says, as the flat blade scrapes down the animal hide. Its stretched tight between two poles and almost ready. Furs, for her and for him, because winter will become serious soon and she is so small sometimes it worries him. Despite the chill, she’s stripped to trousers and a sleeveless shirt, practicing her forms beside him in their modest yard.

Mouse dances carefully, swings the sword, toes close to an imaginary enemy.

“You are still leaning too heavily on your left foot,” he comments and continues to scrape. He watches her face turn slightly pink and not just because it’s far too cold to be sleeveless. The shirt is loose and billowy and reveals her sides—König wants to kiss there, wants to lap at the sweat running down her skin from exertion.

“S’All part of the game—you wouldn’t have killed him,” Mouse replies, and attempts the form again; this time she overcompensates her tendency to her left by correcting her right too far. “Didn’t like him, though.” She swings the sword, left, right, overhand. Pauses it with pristine accuracy. “Don’t like knights.”

König doesn’t mention that when they’d met he’d been a knight. Years ago, when he’d found her, bloody hands clapped over her ears to hide them, eyes huge and terrified of him—of all humans. Crouched there, in the underbrush, thinking he’d call attention to her and that the soldiers he was with would have entertainment for the night.

He would have killed them. For her. Even then, before she had made a hole in his heart the way that she has now.

Mouse has her cap off, so those pointed ears call slight attention. She’s not full elf; human dad, unfortunately. Makes them small, petite. König finds them cute actually, and when she lets him, he kisses them and watches her blush all the way to her throat. Then kisses there too, for good measure.

“She was pretty,” Mouse mumbles, hefting her sword between her hands. She’s attempting the ambidexterity Horangi has—her first sword master and the man König had asked for help when he needed to get Mouse away. He can tell that she misses him sometimes, in just the way she cares for the sword he’d left her.

You’re pretty, he doesn’t say. Scrapes the leather more. Beautiful. König puts the blade down, watches as she sheaths her sword and looks to him. And kind. Thinks of them in the town they’d just left, her hand full of candies, held behind her, smiling to herself when children got brave enough to dart forward and pick from her palm.

Thinks of the time she’d simply taken off her boots and given them to a woman, swollen heavy with child and that woman crying into her hand and Mouse telling her, these just don’t fit me anymore, yeah? And I don’t like the color, so you take them and don’t try and say no to me. Because that woman had been barefoot on a dusty road and one child already on her hip.

Mouse leaps up onto the tree stump beside his tanning rack, which nearly makes her the same height as him.

“Almost finished?” He lets her move on from the subject. König wants to ask her, sometimes, where that cruelty comes from inside her; feels it reflected in himself. Knows it comes from cruelty others shoved onto him; no outlet, just violence. It’s why he’d become a soldier, why he’d become a knight once upon a time. His giant hands take hold of her hips, pull her straight to the edge of that stump and look up at her.

“You are serious about the tourney.”

“Yes,” she answers quickly. “Don’t think I’ll win, yeah. But I’d like to smash a few idiots around with a sword and then eat fancy tournament food.” She’s smiling then. Not that sinister, ravenous look she gives their marks. All part of the game. For him, it’s this slow, shy, curling smile that makes her look younger than she is, makes her cheeks dimple a little.

“The furs will be finished in the morn, then.”

She yanks up her shirt, folds it over his head and laughs when he kisses her stomach, makes a much softer sound when his attention moves up and to her chest. The sun dips past the horizon finally, and König takes his tiny, half-elf wife to bed.

#mouse #mouse x konig #fantasy au #konig

[gremlingottoosilly]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— And if I wanted just you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

— You knew who I was all along? 

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

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

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

— Are my hands too ugly for you, sir? 

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

Then – he kisses them. 

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

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

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

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

— Your hands belong to an empress. 

— Thought I was a regent. 

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

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

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

— But you can trust me with your children?

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

— No one is immortal. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Are you really satisfied with the scraps? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Just fine? 

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

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

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

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

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

— That is awful news for your empire. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #call of duty #yandere cod #cod x you #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig cod #yandere male #male yandere #yandere #yandere imagines

[gh0vtzb1og]

My girl. Kidnapper au / KONIG X FEM READER

Notes ; kidnapping, non con!!!, blindfolds, bondage, knife and gun play (I have this my all), rape threats, gags, threatening to inflict pain or death. Age gap (23-49), height gap bc my man is 6’11😭

This post was made for the beloved @konigsblog I’d definitely check out their stuff if your interested in dead dove. Their writing is spectacular and their very sweet :)

Konig loved you, he loved the way you slept in your bed naked, the way you’d always be so unaware of who was by you. He’s passed you so many times and you never did bat an eye at him. You never suspected he put cameras in your room, or that he jerked off to your panties, holding them right up to his face and stroking his big girthy cock.

He knew what he was doing, he knew he was gonna take you and use you how your intended to be used. He wanted to Breed you so bad, he couldn’t help but be a damn nerd over you, he knew what panties and bras you liked, he knew what porn you rubbed yourself best to, he knew everything about you.

He loved watching you in your home, he couldn’t wait for your ankles and wrists to be bound, your skin around it a reddish purple from trying to get away, each and every spot is rough and sore. It hurts like hell. Konig was so excited to see you sob and beg for mercy, beg for help and salvation. It would make him go feral, just seeing you with tears already gave him a massive boner.

Konig was standing outside your bedroom window, waiting for you to go to bed. Tonight was the night you’d disappear forever, he couldn’t contain his excitement, the Austrian bit his thumb, rolling his eyes back and groaning into his hand. Why couldn’t he contain himself? You were all he wanted and more, he was gonna breed your cunt tonight, like it or not.

You were laying in your bed, starting to doze off, not an ounce of paranoia filling you. You were in the safety of your own home, you shouldn’t feel endangered when you were all alone in your home! Konig peered through the window, his mask covering his face, just two eye holes to peer through. Konig lifted your window up, just enough to slip through.

His feet softly landed onto the floor of your room, his heels pivoting on the floor and moving next to your bed. This was it.. he was gonna take you and fufill his fantasy. He chewed on his lip, lifting you out of your bed and holding you close to his body.

Konig was gonna tie you up in his basement and rape you, so damn far away from anyone who’d help, maybe he’d bring over some friends aswell.

-

A ball gag was resting between your parted lips, your jaw was held open, saliva running down your mouth and onto your neck. Your eyes opened, trying to adjust to the dark damp basement. The ground was cold and it scraped you whenever you moved, ropes bound your ankles and wrists, the scratchy rope rubbing into your skin every time you struggled. Your body was bare and exposed, the room was so damn cold. Your boobs were hard mounds, perking with arousal whether you liked it or not.

Your cunt was freezing cold from being sopping wet, the floor below you was covered in some of your cum, wait why was there cum? Where were you even.

“Finally awake eh?” A thick German voice called out from a dark corner, you stare at him and let out a confused but scared cry. A cry for help even? Maybe this man would help you, he’d save you from this scary place.

The masked man emerged from the darkness, he had a pistol in his holster, a knife being toyed around in his hand. Your face got visibly pale, your eyes filled with fear. He liked that, it made his cock swell up.

“You seem awful scared? Why’s that honey, hm? Maybe I’ll just slit your pretty throat and watch your blood spill onto the floor?” He watched as you grew more mortified. You were such a sweet girl. Working in a coffee shop, taking some of your hot beverages to the homeless, you’d always help volunteer at the library, organizing books and cleaning shelves.

You were so so so sweet, but that’s what konig preyed upon, someone he could tear apart and break, something that would scream and cry when he touched them. He didn’t wanna fuck drugged up girls or sex dolls anymore. He wanted the real deal, his own little rape doll that’s gonna remember each and every time he uses her.

“einfache kleine Puppe. Ich werde dir nicht weh tun, es sei denn, du zwingst mich dazu.” He practically beamed mumbling those words, his accent slipping into one ear and running out the other. His words were putting you into a false sense of security. You didn’t know what they meant, you didnt know this man was gonna rape you once you got him worked up enough.

“My own deer in headlights..” he tsk’d. Grabbing your face and tilting it up to look at him, he pulled you out of a curled up position. Now your tits and cunt were on display, the cruel man’s eyes went immediately to your glistening cunt. You looked so desperate and deprived, in his eyes atleast. In his eyes you were begging for his cock, you were so pure, and so damn young, your body made him throb against his jeans.

Konig pulled out his pistol, shoving it against your head and undoing his pants. He was gonna finally touch you! He’s wanted so long to do this, so long to rub his thick meaty cock along your pussy. To feel your clit against his tip, to spread you apart and shove his cock deep inside you, he wanted to breed you so bad. He’s been itching to see you knocked up with his babies. Sure their daddy would be a deranged freak who keeps mommy locked away but it’s just what he has to do!

He’ll make mommy fall in love, he’ll fuck her so dumb she develops stockholm syndrome! She’ll melt and drool over his cock, never satisfied without it. He was such a nerd, practically bouncing in his spot while watching her, hopefully she’ll be bouncing too.

Konig spread your legs excitedly. His throbbing cock was so excited to be inside your gummy pussy! His cock looked like it was gonna spear your virgin walls open, he wanted to shove it inside you and never pull out, you’d look too good on his cock.

“Please stop sir please stop I don’t want this,” you cry out pathetically. Not able to convince him to not take advantage of your body here, he wasn’t gonna be gentle. He’d be gentle later when you were sobbing for him to love you, after all you wouldn’t be a virgin anymore. He’d convince you men don’t like whores, and he’d use you until you were one.

Konig pushed his tip into your tiny hole, a loud groan leaving his lips as he gaped your pussy. Feeling it stretching and trying it’s hardest to not tear. Your cunt held his tip tightly inside, konig let out a very pleased groan. Meanwhile you were in the middle of moanish screams. Your body was shaking from the fact konig was shoving deeper into you. You weren’t prepped for this, it was so unfair to loose your virginity in a damp dark basement like this.

You wanted better than what he was gonna do to you.

-

Possibly part 2 coming soon🙏🙏🙏

#konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x you #yandere konig #konig modern warfare #konig headcanons #konig smut #konig x y/n #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty #gh0vtzb1ogz #call of duty smut #cod smut #smut writing #writers on tumblr #writing

[bluegiragi]

FAQ + CODseries masterpost (MONSTER AU + SOAPBOX UNDER THE CUT)

Commissions: [CLOSED]

Twitter

Patreon (NSFW and early access)

--

Frequently Asked Questions:

(read through the #askbox tag before asking to see if I’ve already answered! repeat questions and spam will be deleted.)

1. What program and brush do you use?

Clip Studio Paint, and I alternate between two brushes: fat sketcher 2 from stealthnacho’s brushset, and short vertical bar (dual brush) from sparth’s art pack 1

2. What tablet do you use?

I use a Surface Pro 8, which is a laptop where you can draw directly onto the screen. However, this is a really pricey purchase and before I had it, I used an Intuous Tablet for 6 years and loved it.

3.Can I repost your art on other platforms?

You can, but please credit me every time!

4.Can I write a fic/make fanart based on your AU?

Yeah sure!

5.Have you thought of what monster [insert character] would be? / Will you be adding [insert character] to the monster AU?

If I haven’t talked about certain characters already, I probably won’t at all. And I don’t have anything against these characters, but it’s more like I’m largely indifferent and have 0 thoughts. Do what you will, I made my AU as a sandbox for others to play in too, so you decide what to do with these characters!

6.Will you ever draw Konig again?

If I feel like it, probably! But the brainrot where he was the main focus has definitely passed <3

-

MONSTER 141 AU

extra | team 141 character introductions

extra | konig + horangi character introductions

extra | las almas crew + graves character introduction

part ? | price/gaz rooftop talks

part 1 | bag of tricks

part 2 | ghost/soap muzzle

part 3 | price+ghost check in

part 4 | ghost + soap + gaz in action (part 1)

part 5 | ghost + soap + gaz in action (part 2)

part 6 | ghost + soap + gaz in action (part 3) 

part 7 | sketchdump 1

part 8 | ghost/soap chasing tail

part 9 | soap/fantasy!ghost (full vers on patreon)

part 10 | ghost/soap docile

part 11 | ghost/price due diligence

part 11.5 | ghost/soap due diligence (nsfw - only available on patreon)

part 12 | ghost/price holding back pt 1

part 13 | ghost/price holding back pt 2

part 14 | soap/gaz doing things blind (only available on patreon)

part 15 | konig/horangi clear

part 16 | sketchdump 2

part 17 | debrief

part 18 | ghost/soap work it out (part 1)

part 19 | ghost/soap work it out (part 2)

part 20 | cockatrice (part 1)

part 21 | cockatrice (part 2)

part 22 | sketchdump 3/puppy playtime

part 23 | new moon (part 1)

part 24 | new moon (part 2)

part 25 | new moon (part 3) 

part 26 | open book

part 27 | face to a name

part 28 | before

part 29 | that’s an order

part 30 | diplomacy

part 31 | mr riley

part 32 | human

part 33 | wraith

SOAPBOX SAGA (SOAP/GHOST/KONIG SERIES)

part 1 | konig/soap first meeting

part 2 | ghost/soap kid and a cookie jar (full vers on patreon)

part 3 | ghost/konig spar pt 1

part 4 | ghost/konig spar pt 2

extra | ghost + konig facecanons

part 5 | ghost/soap heart to heart

part 6 | ghost/konig grow a pair

part 7 | konig/soap do something

part 8 | konig/soap/ghost rough part 1 (full vers on patreon)

part 9 | konig/soap/ghost rough part 2 (full vers on patreon)

part 10 | trio feat. price mission start

part 11 | trio feat!unmasked konig

part 12 | trio feat! unmasked konig pull yourself together

part 13 | konig fantasises (full vers on patreon)

part 14 | ghost/konig feat. soap private lesson

part 15 | ghost/konig/soap lieutenant’s room

part 16 | ghost/konig/soap good for us (full vers on patreon)

#soapbox saga #got soapbox from whisperwarm #my partner in crime in spreading this polycule agenda fandomwide #added monster au since its probably gonna go on for a while as well #god i wish lists could collapse #i added an faq!!!!

[cod-dump]

I MUST KNOW: Horangi & Konig's AO3s! their account names, favorite fandoms, favorite tropes (including NSFW hehe)--please! I loved that recent post 👉🏽👈🏽

Horangi’s account name is so obvious. Everyone that knows him in real life just know it’s him when they see the name. He has no shame, he’s very proud of himself. He’s not in actual fandoms, he writes things for very small fandoms or he is the fandom of a very niche, unknown movie or series. But Horangi does write fics of people he knows in real life. Again, the man has no shame.

He loves a good ‘there was only one bed’, fucking loves modern or fantasy AUs (depends on the setting for the movie/series). He wrote a fantasy AU for a Sim household with sex pollen. He posted that shit on the official KorTac server and got an ear full when Hutch took it down (he read it, of course he did). He has made so many fics with König getting down with characters from his fandoms. König knows, he’s immune by this point.

König only has an AO3 because Horangi kept sending him the fics he had written about him from there. He finally just made one to make things easier and now he just critiques everything Horangi writes and gets into arguments with people in the comments. His user is Pillowcaseman or something like that.

König is not in any fandoms, he just reads whatever Horangi writes and then complains about it later. He will admit he likes the ‘fluff and smut’ tag but he will never admit that. König has read the most heinous fics and is just unable to stop reading them. He read the first fic Horangi sent him out of curiosity and was floored by what it was about. Now he feels the need to comment ‘I hate you’ on every fic involving him that Horangi has made.

Worst part is that some of Horangi’s fans are now making their own fics about König (who they are thoroughly convinced is an OC). He’s so mad that some of them are actually really good and he’s even more pissed about Horangi sharing them with everyone on KorTac. Hutch was the first to get them then he sends them out (he’s an accomplice who sternly believes ‘If I had to see it so do you’).

König will never write anything other than hate comments. But Horangi is convinced he can get him to write something. He just has to get him to his breaking point.

#call of duty #modern warfare #kim horangi hong jin #cod könig #colonel könig #darnell hutch hutchinson #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #kortac #kortac operators

[neoarchipelago]

Next on my Patreon: obsessive Konig! neighbors (nsfw)

Next on my Tumblr: Cod fantasy au! Dragon trainers!

#fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley #cod mw2 #captain price #john soap mactavish #konig hcs #konig call of duty #konig x you #konig smut #konig cod #konig x reader #konig modern warfare #konig

[day0walkersdrafts]

She asks Nick first, because he must seem the obvious option. He is after all, married—and he is, as anyone can tell by one glance, very in love with his wife.

Still, he blinks owlishly behind his glasses at the little lady noblewoman, shocked at the question. Sunshine has found her way into the bowels of the castle, into his dark, dimly lit stone lair. He prefers it to the beautiful, sun pocked grace of where Adler will do her gardening for herbs. He’d follow her under any bright light, but sometimes, it’s easier for him to do his reading in the dark, to scribble his nasty little poisoner thoughts in his journal without the blazing presence of her love beside him.

Because, sometimes, he thinks, this dark rotten side of him should not enter into the beauty of their marriage. She’d argue—she’d take him, in all his rotten, slimy ways, but he likes to keep those private. Likes to keep her out of reach of these poison vials he slowly concocts.

Yet Sunshine has found her way down. Perhaps because noblewomen never really think of things as off limits—which is why she poses him that little question in the first place. What is love to you, Maester Toussaint? She has a little book of poetry open in front of her, perched on the wooden stool by his mixing station. She has a pencil in her hand as well, poised as if to take notes.

Nick adjusts his glasses and slowly caps the bottle of poison he’d been brewing for Nomi—she’ll be gone for a week or so, to take care of someone. He leans his hip against the wooden desk. The flames flicker in the torches he’d lit. Sunshine is quite beautiful; she is high browed with delicate features, a sweet little button nose. She is young too, with unmarred and pale skin that has those little sunspots all over her face.

He thinks, to himself, love is not wanting this pretty little thing. Not wanting, when he’d used to want all the time. Nick had drowned himself in those little carnal pleasures before Leonie. The Nick prior to her would have simply tucked a finger into the top of her dress, without shame and asked her, if she’d like to see love. Nick, before Adler, was more of a monster—if that was at all possible.

And love doesn’t necessarily change nature; it’s impossible. He’ll always have that seedy undercurrent of pure fucking evil somewhere under his skin. Black, tarnished, soiled. But, whenever his brain seems to lunge to those urges, there’s a great swell of her inside his heart. A vision of her pale face and dark red lipstick. Her raven colored hair, spread out across a pillow in their sleeping quarters. Nick’s lips to her shoulder, her unique gray eyes finding his.

“Did you know,” Nick begins, deftly tugging off his gloves, “that I was dying when my wife found me.” Sunshine’s pert little pink lips open in surprise, just as he knew they would. She loves a good story; she is a romantic at heart, a truly soft woman who needs soft hands to handle her. “I was a soldier; conscripted. Not by choice. I had taken a poleaxe to the chest armor—nasty things, those. The weapon König uses. You know the one?”

“Yes,” she answers quickly. She’s poised with the pencil. Nick slowly begins filling the satchel with Nomi’s supplies. He is, admittedly, a little nervous to send his apprentice by herself. The world is big and bad and full of things that want to kill these women. Kill and eat them.

“Adler is a witch,” he continues. “But she didn’t use magic on me. She mended me using just medicine. People think she’s put a spell on me; that she has me bewitched.” Nick taps a finger on Sunshine’s nose, making her blush all the way down her throat. “You can’t spell someone into loving you, mon rayon de soleil.” She nods, seems to jot down a note, but her delicate brows pull in.

“But—well. What is it then? That she saved you? Is that why you love her?” He wants to tell her this is almost a hopeless venture; that people cannot explain why they love another person. That is is not that Adler saved him, a soldier, dying in mud on a battlefield he’d never wanted to be on. It is, rather, she continues to save him everyday. Not with magic. Just a hand on his bicep when he feels himself slipping too far into this dark, underground lair.

“Ah, let’s go see her.” He says instead, slinging the satchel over his shoulder. “So, perhaps you can ask her.” Sunshine’s blush returns, all the way to her ears now. “Does she intimidate you?”

“She is very beautiful,” Sunshine admits as she slides from the stool. He offers her his arm and she takes it gently. “And very powerful.”

“And very kind,” he reminds her. Unlike me, he doesn’t say.

—

The next person she asks is probably even worse.

The tavern is noisy and full of rowdy travelers who quiet just a bit at the sight of someone beautiful and clean sweeping through it. Sunshine keeps her cloak up a bit until she settles herself down at the thief catchers table. He flinches back in surprise, because Benson is used to dealing with nobility; he just doesn’t like them. And she looks like she has a lot of coin, but not exactly like she’s here to give him a contract. She opens a book on the table and gives him a warm smile.

“’Lo,” he says, mouth half full of the hearty stew Bunny’s cook is serving. Good stuff, not the usual watery shit that he’s been eating along the journey. He’s alone, because Maran is couriering to a neighboring town—they’ll meet up again on the road. Yeah, meet up, nice, real nice, he’s always soft after some time apart, Benny’s thoughts ping around, almost making his smile turn gross and delighted at the same time, until he clears his throat and finishes his bite.

When she poses her question, Benny is swallowing down a sip of mulled wine; his third within the hour. It makes him soft enough to not immediately tell her to go away, with her silly head full of silly stories. He can’t read and the book is making him anxious, her pencil poised to scribble in margins. But, he contemplates her ridiculous question; what is love to you? He thinks on it. Thinks of…

Slicing up a pear.

Sharing those slices for the first time in his entire life. Watching beads of juice slip down olive toned skin, the fruit perfectly ripe. He thinks of leaning in to kiss that line of juice on a strong chin, kiss up until his mouth is on Maran’s. Their tongues and the taste of pear. He thinks of running his hand down an arching spine and tucking it into a warm waist and kissing a shoulder blade and hearing soft sounds from the man. He thinks also, idly, of laying lazy in the back of a cart, sun peaking through the curtains. He thinks of the wasted coin offered to a farmer who lets him and Maran sleep on the ride. He thinks of waking up first and looking at freckles. He thinks he’ll never be able to kiss them each individually because they’re all so close together.

But sometimes he leans in and tries anyway, gets a laugh out of the man, a head tilt back.

Benny thinks of Maran a town over, thinks anxiously of him with those special parcels, those wanted materials that people would kill him for. He thinks, that man is not designed for violence, he is too good for blood, he does not like to hurt people and I should be there to hurt them instead, if they try and take from him. He sips the wine, he looks at Sunshine with his flat, pale blue eyes.

In the tavern, she is striking enough to make others swivel their heads to look at her. They’ll slide over when she’s gone and ask about her and he’ll have no real good answer, because her question has made his hands itch. Because he would like to be on the road again.

Benny sips the wine again and leans in real close to the noblewoman. So close its improper, close enough for whispering distance. His hand lifts and tucks a strand of her brown hair behind her ear where it’s fallen out of place.

“Love’s about blowjobs. Gi-giving or getting, I’m not picky.”

She rears back with a horrified look and snaps the book closed. He can’t help but laugh, leaning back himself with a hand dipped behind the chair he sits on.

“S-Sorry, princess. I mi-might miss my courier more than I pre-previously thought, is all. And I’ve had two of these already.” He taps his pale finger on the pint, eyes darting over to Bunny behind the bar. She looks at him with such a do not start shit in my bar or I’ll have someone fucking kill you look that he’s a little enamored by her.

“Pardon me,” she mumbles, closing the book with no notes taken. She makes her way to the bar—to the next worst person she could ask. Bunny’s eyes find Benny again, cold and annoyed and he lifts the necklace he’d managed to swipe from the noblewoman without her noticing. Sorry, it’s yours when she’s done, promise.

He finishes the wine, then. Properly in his cups, he sways out the tavern to find a barn to sleep it off in, head full of the question and unable to forget it.

—

But by far, the worst one to ask is the thief himself.

Lark’s crossbow bolt goes wide—which it never does—and lodges into the tree instead of the target he’d been aiming for. The weapon sags in his hands as he turns to look at Sunshine with a dropped open jaw and wide black eyes.

“What?” he asks, in an oddly strangled voice.

“I—” Sunshine clutches the book of poems in her hands, brows drawing in, lip pouting. “I was asking, what love was like for you and Matilda?” Hearing it a second time does not making Lark’s ability to breathe any easier. He quickly shoves the crossbow back against the holster on his shoulder and shakes his head. Lifts his gloved hands.

“No,” he says and Sunshine looks confused. “I do not—that is not—and it’s not your business who—” He snatches the book from her. She makes an immediate protesting noise, but she’s shorter than him—and much weaker, so he can dance out her grip easily and stare down at the book. In the margin, she’s underlined, in her pretty neat handwriting, the way he looks at her. Lark feels an absolute roil of panic roll across his insides, squirming little feelings of—well, not fear. Lark hasn’t felt fear in so long—can’t be this feeling.

She makes an absolute squeak of a sound as he rips the page out. He tosses the book back to her and she catches it with shiny, wet eyes. He doesn’t spare her the time to feel bad as he quickly folds up the page (the way he looks at her) and shoves it into one of his many thieving pockets.

“You should not be asking people these types of questions,” Lark snaps, angrily. The page burns a hole against his skin. Get rid of it. Get rid of it. Get rid of it. He clears his throat and puts hands to his hips, staring her down. Lark is not tall, not compared to the men that the King has started surrounding himself with (kings always need thieves, even if they pretend not to—and for once, there’s a king that doesn’t pretend at all and Lark’s pockets stay fat with coin these days), but Sunshine is delicately small.

She looks furious though and she throws the book onto the ground. Sunshine takes a practice bow up into her hand with a fluid motion.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Lark says, anxious, because if she catches an arrow to her forearm, he’ll likely be blamed for it. Xavier won’t shut up for days probably, and court ladies will glare at him. Matilda would find it funny, a little voice says, get rid of that fucking page, it also reminds.

“You,” Sunshine starts as she knocks the arrow and pulls back the string, “are so rude, Lark.” She lets the arrow fly then. It arcs gracefully and lands into the middle of the target he had completely missed. “Xavier should teach you manners.” She slings the bow around her shoulder, as if she’s decided to keep it and bends to pick up the book. She dusts grass off of it and turns on her heel.

“Xavier should teach me?” Lark is loud as she exits the clearing. “Should have seen him as a fuckin’ soldier,” he mumbles to himself, unhitching his crossbow. “Never shut up about sucking—” He continues snarling to himself as he loads up the crossbow.

The page stays, unfortunately in his pocket, completely forgotten.

—

She’s obviously dejected by the time she finds the knight. It’s the way things are, though. Not fairy tale easy. Not like the way they are in the books.

She’d been right to ask Nick; he is so deeply in love, but also so, so wrong in many ways. And Benny, the thief catcher, whose pale eyes turn bright when he catches sight of that courier uniform, had not been a bad man to ask. She simply doesn’t know that his background is full of blood and pain and it makes his words catch so he can’t actually talk about such a soft feeling.

And the thief is so clearly in love with the witch, but Sunshine can’t fathom the fear that comes with love either. She is thinking of it in gentle terms, when the men she’d asked had been so deeply removed from gentle. Whose lives had ripped gentle from them, early on, and the fight to get it back was too private to share.

“Careful,” König says softly when Sunshine bumps into him. She comes only to his chest and barely that high so he has to crane his head down to look at her. Sunshine stares up with widely surprised eyes, her cheeks burning immediately pink. He catches her by the shoulder as she stumbles, his entire hand the size of it. He cups her bicep then, softly orienting her away from the poleaxe in the ground. He’s braiding a new rope for it, to make it easier to sling across his chest.

König lets her sit on the stump beside him as he continues braiding the rope. His fingers are delicately soft and quick for being as large as they are. She watches, fascinated, her book on her lap and pencil nearly slipping from her hands. It’s because he’s pulled his hood off, he realizes. Because she had been scared underneath would be a monster of legendary tale. Perhaps scales or fur or something else—instead he’s just a man. That tends to break people’s brains a bit. Why hide then? He won’t answer that—they need not know.

“When I found Mouse,” König begins the story, “a human man had tried to cut the tips of her ears off.” He hears a pained sound from her, empathy deep enough she might be able to feel the slice of the knife. No, König thinks. Until you feel it for real, you’ll never know. “She was hiding from the men. She was so small. They’d given her only a shift to wear—I could see her ribs.” He slides his thumb over the braided rope, staring down at it.

“That is so horrible,” Sunshine whispers, holding the pencil between her fingers, looking at it. No notes for that misery. “I—I didn’t know she—”

“The world can be very cruel to those that are different,” König says, crossing to her. He sits on the ground beside the stump, because even with that little difference, he manages to somehow be taller than her. He leans back on his palms, comfortable. Sunshine is not off putting to him the way others might find her—nobility makes Mouse feral with rage and who could blame her? They’d tried to cut down her ears. They’d tried to force her human—they’d done worse that he’s not saying aloud, because its her pain to keep. “Being half elf has always made Mouse feel—wrong.”

“You fell in love after you saved her?”

“Maker, no. She hated me.” König laughs, tilting his head her way. “Hated everyone except my traveling companion, Horangi. He taught her how to use the sword. He was an old master in a style that isn’t used much in this Kingdom.” He sinks into memories of that; watching her slowly build muscle, cut her hair short and wield a sword. König watched her become Mouse—no longer the servant girl who was treated cruelly, who was nearly mutilated.

“I fell in love with her first. Because she was so resilient.” He listens to her pencil start scratching. “That something so horrible happened to her, but she just continued. I wanted to feel that resiliency. I wanted to live with it; understand it. Hold it. Nurture it. I wanted her so badly.”

You disgust me, she’d told him. Knights disgust me. Humans disgust me. Men disgust me.

“How did you come together in the end?”

“Horangi left us one day. He needed to return home for something.”

“Did she love him?”

“Not like that,” König says, laughing at the idea. He can imagine Mouse’s horrified expression at the mere idea. Horangi’s even more mortified. “She loved him like a child loves a father. And when he left, she was heartbroken.” The pencil scratches return. König looks at her curiously, wondering if she does not know the deeply platonic and beautiful love between a parent and child; even an adopted one. It makes him sad for her. Makes him soften as he leans toward her. “She warmed up to me after, when she realized I was not trying to replace Horangi. When I was not trying anything.”

“You didn’t court her?”

“There is no courting Mouse.”

“Ah,” Sunshine laughs then, her cheeks pink at it. “She is scary.”

“I know,” König says with his own private smile. “And I love her for that—and I think, when she saw that I didn’t want to change her—that I loved her wholly, like that…I suppose she gave me a bit of a chance.” There’s no recounting the entire story, because it is long and is is personal. But he watches her drawing a little mouse, whiskers and all and it endears him to her so much that he gently puts his cheek to her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she mumbles shyly. “No one—Everyone else skirted the question or they were entirely rude about it.”

“Not everyone can talk about love, Lady Sunshine. And you shouldn’t expect them too, either.” She stiffens for a moment, her finger turning a page on the book before she glances over to him. “Please, do me a favor and do not ask Mouse this question. I fear she would not enjoy it.”

—

She’s sweeping through one of the castle hallways, lost in thought on all of the answers that had only made her feel that much more distant from the thing she was trying so desperately to learn about—when a strong hand snatches her by the bicep. Sunshine is fit to scream until she is twirled and falls into a strong, broad chest.

“Did you have a fun day bothering everyone?” She looks up to find Xavier staring down at her, holding her hand up and smiling that brilliantly white and tooth filled smile. His forest green eyes are delighted, filled to the brim with mischievous delight.

“I was not intentionally bothering anyone,” she mumbles, her cheeks warm as she glances down. His hand softens in hers, his other tucking under her chin to lift it up. She blinks up at him.

“Not going to ask me?”

“It would not be appropriate.”

“It was appropriate to ask Lark? You know he kills people, Lady Sunshine.” Her shoulders bunch, a shivery feeling running up and down her entire body as she’s reminded, starkly, that she might have spent the entire day flitting between men who often kill people. She flattens a hand to her thin chest, staring up at him with upturned brows. “He said you’ve gotten good with a bow.”

“I have been good with a bow,” she replies with a raised chin, some of her new found boldness returning. “He only noticed now because he is staring at Lady Matilda all of the time—and yet denies he—” Xavier’s bubbling laugh cuts her off as he laces his hand into hers and begins walking her down the hall.

“I would very much like to hear Matilda’s reaction to being called lady.”

“Xavier!”

“You aren’t going to ask me, then?” He turns to look at her over his shoulder. Sunshine remembers when he had simply been a tall, handsome knight who was keeping her safe on the kings road. He wore white now; the cloaked symbol of Kings justice. And the King and he…she lowers her gaze to the stone flooring, it’s long, maroon carpet.

“I think I will start asking the ladies instead. Men have terrible answers.”

“Ah—perhaps don’t start with Lady Matilda.”

“Xavier,” she reprimands once more, hurrying her steps to catch up with him, instead of trailing behind.

#nick #sunshine #benny #lark #konig #fantasy au #xavier

[gremlingottoosilly]

The horror and the wild (Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader) Medieval Fantasy AU

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. CHAPTER 1 Word count: 4906 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig

This fic on AO3

— I do not wish to speak about politics before breakfast!

— Your Highness, I’m afraid, politics would not be waiting patiently until you’re finished with your sweet pastries. 

— What do you mean? 

— The Emperor’s army is on our doorstep. 

The look on the face of the Princess – your Princess – was priceless. First, it was a surprise, her adorable features all twisted in a very unladylike gasp. Then, it was terror – the first time you saw her ever express that emotion since the palace was always clear of anything that could scare her royal highness, from mice and snakes, and up to severely ugly people(poor, poor Elvin – he’d a good life if it weren’t for his pointy slabby jaw). Then, and it was the final emotion on her illustrious face – it was anger. To nobody’s surprise, the anger was mostly coming at you. 

You see – you’re a Princess's most loyal handmaiden. Raised under her crib, going to the same classes, doing everything in favor of your royal highness, from warming up her jewelry and to trying the food first to see if it’s poisoned – your whole life’s goal is to make sure that the Princess is as comfortable as possible. You’re her shadow, her servant, the closest to a friend she can have – and if you were the bearer of the bad news, it’s only natural that she would be angry at you in the first instance, and not at the imperial army clashing down at your tiny bordering kingdom. 

— Where are the guards?!

— Judging by the screams I am not sure if there are any left in the outer levels of the castle. And if the King didn’t come with a usual note after breakfast, it’s safe to assume that he is more busy. 

With a trained movement, you quickly duck under the table when the Princess, naturally, throws a plate in your direction. You knew she wasn’t meaning it – your poor, innocent darling Princess, she was just as scared as you were but had not learned of how to hide her emotions under sarcasm and false calmness. Your job is to keep her safe – and calm – even if there is no royal family to serve anymore. You don’t want to think of the possible outcomes – King took you in, a simple peasant girl with no talents whatsoever, and gave you an illustrious education, the most sought job in the whole kingdom, and an allowance that would allow you to study in the real collegium, were they to accept women. You don’t want this place to fall in Northern Empire clutches – and you especially don’t want the Princess to learn the harmful ways of two pretty young women trapped in a castle full of enemy soldiers. 

— How could this happen?!

— I’d have an answer for this question, Your Highness, but you ordered to urn any mail from the Northen Empire. Perhaps, they send us quite a bit of war declarations before finally going down. 

Your hand goes to the side of your skirt, clutching on the suicide dagger – if something happens, you’d have to kill the Princess first, take the sin of killing oneself from her innocent soul – and then go down after her, hoping that your dog-like loyalty would allow you to serve her in heaven. 

The Princess has many things that she’d like to take with her to the afterlife. You better start preparing her package soon – this castle wasn’t built to be protected from the army of beasts, hiding under human skin – your kingdom never provoked any wars, always trying to search for the opportunity of negotiations – and now this comes to bite you right in your soft rear, without a sufficient amount of guards or a suitable army to protect itself. 

You’d pray for the god, but your god wants you to die. 

— Princess, we need to…

Before you could say anything else, an explosion erupts somewhere in the southern tower – the closest place to enter the Princess chambers. You can hear screaming, you can hear laughing – a foreign language, the one you are proficient with, but it never made it less barbaric, less harsh. These people talk like swords clangs against each other – like a harsh metal against your skull. You’d give up anything to not understand what they are talking about. 

There is something to be done before the soldiers arrive, finding only a few guards and two pretty, terrified young things. You might not be afraid of death, but you sure are terrified of what will come before their blades would slit your throat. You do not wish to die with blood between your legs. You do not wish that fate for the Princess either. 

“The Princess should be here.”

“Did Lord say anything about trophies?”

“Don’t take anything now. Tiger said we were never here – he would pay us later”

“What about…”

“Don’t kill the Princess either. Emperor want her to himself, remember?”

“Come on, are we here for a whore?”

“A royal whore, dumbass. Now shut up before Emperor hears you.”

They laugh and you can hear the Princess whimpering, crying softly – all of the layers of harshness are washed away with every tear rolling down her perfect cheek. You move to them as fast as you can – these stupid clothes allow you at least some freedom of movement, saved from the excessive decorations and expensive, heavy fabrics – you are only as few levels higher than cleaning rags. you could probably rip away the lower levels of your skirt and run – the Princess wouldn’t even be able to move without your hand steadying herself. 

You need strength to not slap her right now – you know that the pain on her perfect puffy cheek would help get her to listen, but nothing in your body moves to ever hurt her, no matter the cause. You push yourself to the door, thinking – your castle isn’t the highest one in the whole world, if anything, the Princess would be able to escape either via the window or the secret tunnels – but they would search for her, they would never accept defeat like that. Even if you’d stall them for long enough, pulling every bit of luck you don’t have – they wouldn’t stop if they had the goal of catching the Princess. 

— Your radiance, we have to go!

— Where? The castle is going to crumble any second now, and Mama and Papa are…

You press your ear against the tough wood, listening to the soldier’s speaking – language is even harsher now when the adrenaline runs through your veins instead of blood. You would give up anything to be strong – to have your dancing and embroidering lessons switched to sword fighting, to archery, to read dark arcana books instead of romance novels that you and Her Preciousness liked so much. Your hands are soft and delicate, only a bit harsh from occasional cleaning and serving – you’re a shame to any servant in the castle, a house pet made to entertain and please, not to fight and work. 

The Princess is a cherished treasure for your kingdom. Protected and hidden away, the King was smart enough to know that a royal gem like her would make all the old rulers of kingdoms surrounding yours go into a frenzy – so Her Radiancy wasn’t ever allowed to any royal mingling and balls until she’d reach the age of at least 21. Her birthday was next month – a small mercy, knowing that there was a possibility of never getting of that age. 

“Is that a Princess?”

You hear a woman – probably one of the higher members of the court, considering her high-pitched accented whimpers with a familiar voice. God bless her soul and dedicate her a quick death – you don’t want to think what would come of her if not for this prayer.

“Princess should be in her quarters. This one definitely doesn’t speak like a royal meat”

“How do we even know which one is the Princess?”

“She should speak like one. Would be easier if her family ordered a fucking portrait.” 

But…you were with the Princess your whole life. You know how to act like her, you know how she talks, how all royals talk. You know how manners, you know how to sing, how to dance, you received the education that allowed her to copy your study work and give it to her personal teachers – her own reflection wouldn’t copy her better than you would. 

You’re young, like a Princess, you’re pretty, almost like a Princess – and you’re loyal like a dog, itching to pay your debt to the royal family. 

— Your Highness! You need to run, please, just take the secret route through the walls and…

It was the most horrible moment for her to put her foot down.

— I…I live to serve the royal family. Dying for you will be the greatest of honors. 

— I will not just leave you here!

— They’d defile and kill us both, Your Highness. But if I just pretend to be you, they won’t come looking for you, won’t they? They would have what they wanted and you will be free.

— What about you? 

You’d feel hurt for how quickly she ran to the secret tunnel – if such feelings were normal for a servant to have. You’d feel betrayed if it wasn’t the life or death situation – if you weren’t putting on her dress as swiftly as possible before the soldiers would come running for you. It’s funny, how you always wanted to try her dress – how you were jealous of everything she had, even if you were the closest to her – you pride yourself in not caring about such silly mortal possessions, and yet, you always wanted to try something as beautiful as her dress. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror – terrified, small, ready to die at any point or to be hauled back to the Northern Empire like a piece of meat. Dress suits you, the bright pink would tell about innocence and radiance – but not it smells of blood and betrayal. If the soldiers thought that the Princess killed herself in her room, they would surely not think about trying to find her. 

You push the tiny dagger against your wrist, praying to all of your knowledge of medicine that your death will be quick and as painless as possible. You left out a silent prayer – knowing that the god would only welcome you after your death. 

Not a war, Horangi corrects himself – a massacre. 

***

Tiger of the North was fucking tired.

This whole mission – declaring war that no one seen and no one wanted, marching through the street without an army behind him, felt more like a bandit’s doing than something that a general of the best army in the world would do. This whole operation is a stunt, an order from the Emperor that no one expected – seriously, sometimes he still felt like a child with new, exciting toys. For all he knew, König never saw a Princess – yet, he sent his best men to take her out, not caring that this would mean a war on the bordering kingdom.

Not his fault this shithole didn’t even bother to reply to any of the Emperor’s letters regarding the marital status of the Princess. Not his fault they don’t even have a proper army – the king died, gutted like a fucking pig, and the queen followed soon after. Their unit can count less than 20 people, with royal hounds and other animals to help – yet, no one was able to foresee them entering the castle and butchering it. It’s a hunt, not a war or even an assassination – a hunt for the Princess, the useless fucking thing. 

If they’d only bothered to get at least some portraits – something to tell what she looks like. Perhaps, she is ugly, a mix of a toad that fucked a pile of shit. Perhaps, she is crazy and eats pillows and keeps her handmaidens' heads like a trophy. Perhaps, she don’t fucking exist and the king just didn’t want to say out loud that his dick was never working enough to produce an heir. 

— Search the quarters! I don’t want them to have time to know that their precious king is dead. 

The low rumble of König beside his almost makes him dart from surprise. He wears a mask, of course, not even trusting his people to see how he looks like – perhaps, he is as ugly as a toad that…ah, shit, he is using the same comparison again. 

A faceless ruler and a faceless Princess – a match made in heaven. 

— You think other kingdoms would send their condolences? 

— I’m sure that Price is already aching to write a congratulatory letter for the expansion of the empire. A nice addition to the title, ja? 

The emperor laughs, a sword in his hand, dark from the king’s blood. Horangi still doesn’t understand why he would decide to go on such a dangerous operation – if anything, they could haul the Princess back to the capital, or at least the nearest Empire territories – but no, König decided to go here himself, searching for a Princess that would, surely, not be worthy his attention. If this man didn’t want to marry all the options other kingdoms offered him, he surely wouldn’t be satisfied with a girl from this shithole of a country. Their land is barely enough for a normal castle, let alone all of the riches that the Empire provided. 

Yet, König stumbles in every room, searching for something – for someone. Other soldiers don’t dare to take trophies in front of their emperor, knowing that this operation should be as secretive as possible – no other rulers would bat an eye for a mysterious royal passing and the quick marriage of the Princess of this kingdom, but Graves would be quite concerned and bitching about the Northern Empire coming close to his kingdom. God, if König could just bathe every last one of them in blood, he would have. 

— Sir, I believe the Princess should be here Unless she killed herself already. 

— Those people honor death more than they do life. Better be fast before I’d have to marry a corpse. 

— We could bring her back. 

— Nothing can wash off the dead smell even after resurrection. You think why Krueger can only have sex with common whores? 

They both have to suppress their laugh at the thought of the royal advisor. Poor, dead Krueger, serving a contract that even death would not be able to break – it’s a good thing to have it on their side. Provides a good amount of jokes just from being around him. 

König rushes to the door that looks the most guarded – judging only by the amount of dead servants around it. The Princess must be here and, knowing the traditions of your kingdom, he has about a minute before you’d kill yourself, yelling something ridiculous about finding solace in death and that they would never take you alive. The door comes crashing down ridiculously easy – or it’s his strength challenging in the form of barbaric savagery. When he pushed into the room, he didn’t see what he was expecting to see. 

He sees something better. 

You look divine in the moonlight, your form, draped in an expensive dress that you only managed to take on halfway through, getting stuck in that stupid corset and billions of tiny bows and cutting jewels. You look majestic, godlike, you look like something from a fairytale. He was anxious before this, thinking if it was worth it – overthinking every bit of the operations, evaluating if the enemy kingdoms would be fine with him just taking you. König wasn’t sleeping a good few nights before this – now he looks at you and wants to kneel in front of your perfect form. 

— No wonder they didn’t have portraits. They wouldn’t capture your beauty. 

He shook the knife – little thing, as dainty as you are – from your trembling hands. Poor thing terrified of him – he’d pick you up and haul you on your shoulder already, but he wants to take a moment and just admire the comparison between his huge, muscular arms and your fragile form. He knows he is big, imposing, threatening – but compared to you, he feels like a war god paying tribute to his newest sacrifice. 

You shake in his grasp, not fighting it – Princess wouldn’t fight, you remind yourself. If killing yourself is not possible, if your dignity is tarnished, the death and torture shall be met with silence – you put your lips together, as firmly as you can. Still, you can’t stop yourself from sobbing when his hand goes to cup your face – a faint trace of your makeup staining his dark gloves. 

— This is the declaration of war. You were…

— This is no war, meine Liebe. How could we fight the nation with a dead king? 

The Princess would cry, learning about the death of her parents. You try to force more tears, making yourself look as miserable as possible – it isn’t hard in this brute’s hands, with his soldiers surrounding you – but, for some reason, he doesn’t look surprised when you are not crying immediately at the mention of the death of your supposed parents. 

He laughs, cupping your face in a rough, crude gesture. He shouldn’t treat Princess like this – even you are not used to men being this vile, to speak of such lewd matters with his men. They surround you, laughing, not even bothering to pay the least bit of respect in front of their Emperor. 

He wears a hood and it makes him look like an executioner, not a ruler. But, perhaps, you would welcome a butcherer more than you would a husband. 

— Let me go! The guards shall rise to my abduction and they will not leave thou to…

You don’t even need to force yourself to speak like her – you’re royal by any means, other than blood and service. You can imitate her your whole life if needed, shadowing her your whole short existence – it only hurts you more when you are praying that the Princess, dressed up in your garments, would be able to escape. You know that someone will save her, and take care of her – it’s just like the plot of your favorite romance book. An abandoned Princess of the burned kingdom rises to be the wife of a mysterious, masked blood knight, saving him from pushing his soul into the darkness. You, in this story, would be just a minor victim for the author to kill.

— The guards would rise if they weren’t dead, Princess. Too late to call for them now. 

He sneers at this “Princess” like a snake, ready to sink her teeth into your soft, limp body. You whimper, finally trying to get your knife from his hand – as gracefully as you can, remembering that you are to stall the time for her to escape, not to actually save yourself. He laughs and lets you go suddenly – only to pick you up like you weigh nothing. Pick you up like a bride, not a pig for him to gut. 

The tip of your ears is burning – your whole face is burning, you feel ashamed, embarrassed, angry, every emotion swirls in your head as he doesn’t even try to be subtle about his affection. You thank god for the layers of skirt you are wearing – but the upper part of the dress is barely holding together, showing a scandalous amount of shoulder. You are tainted – a scandal in the court, if there was a court alive. 

— Put me down this instant. My kingdom will not just accept these levels of disrespect!

You say this weakly than you wanted to. He laughs – thunder and bear roar, ocean waves against the mountains – you whimper when his hand goes to rip the upper part of your dress entirely, leaving you barely covered, with only three layers of clothing and a corset between you and his horrible, dangerous hands. A lady should not be seen by men when she is in less than five layers of clothing – still, you feel much better when the heavy fabric lets go of your skin. Still, you feel mortified, knowing, what would happen when he started to take off your clothes. 

Well…you think you know what will happen. You and Her Highness read books with a scandalous amount of intimacy – touches, hugs, kisses even, the last book having record five instants of the main heroes being in close proximity with each other – you also know that whenever a male enemy soldier captures a woman, he is doing…something before killing them. Not quite sure what, but obviously torturous. 

— The only kingdom that is left for you, your Highness, is what lies between your legs. I’ll be sure to pay my regards later.

Before you could say something – anything for that matter, he already hauls you away, still stuck in his hands like a trophy. You thank god that he doesn’t see the difference between you and the Princess. You never knew your acting talents would be of this amount, but nonetheless, you feel complete, knowing that the Princess is safe and sound. 

— What is the purpose of your actions? 

You are weak, voice whimpering and quiet. You don’t want to touch him, but the hungry gazes of his soldiers make you weak and fragile – you cling to him, trying to cover your modesty. The corset is a part of the wardrobe that no fine lady should ever show to men – yet, this is the only thing now that is keeping your tits together, saving at least some of your dignity. The heavy skirt of the torn dress lingers on your legs, covering you as much as barely holding up fabric can. König’s chest rumbles with a laugh when he notices you clinging onto him like a helpless kitten. 

— I’m taking my bride as your parents were not kind enough to answer any of the proposals.

— Why didn’t you just visit? 

If it were for him, he would just sprawl you on the ground and take what he wants. He would, were he a simple soldier, not the North Emperor – he would if there weren’t any witnesses if there were no intentions of marrying you later. But alas, he needs your hands in marriage – he needs you whole in marriage, from head to toe, from your heart to your soul, from your pussy to that sweet mouth of yours – and he can’t have all that unless he is patient. 

— I did. Right now, for that matter.

— As the only heir to the throne, this would mean the death of my country. You can’t just…

— Who is there to stop me, little one? Your parents? Dead. Your army? They would kneel for my men were we at actual war. 

You close your mouth. He laughs again, this terrifying hood of his moving when he shakes his head. You sob, tears flowing freely down your cheeks – it’s a wonder you can still talk while crying like this, but you need to keep up the act and you need to stall the time as much as possible. His hand goes to wipe away your tears and, for a second, you almost want to bite him. But, Princesses don’t bite – they lay in the hands of their captors and wait for princes to save them. 

— The other kingdoms would protect us, we had war pacts!

— Were you loved enough to start a war with the Empire to protect you from getting married? 

— I shall…

— You’re too young to speak like a queen, Liebe. Leave that to me, ja? 

You open your mouth. 

You close your mouth. 

You open your mouth again. 

— Please, let me go. 

This is a quiet, soft sob – König stops for a second, looking at your fragile, vulnerable expression. You’re as weak as a kitten, as adorable as a bunny – and precious, his little treasure, tucked away nicely in the deepest corners of this kingdom. He almost feels bad for breaking you, for taking you away. He killed many men, the king included, and he captured more land than his father ever could dream of – the biggest empire lies at his hands and yet, he feels weak when you cry in his hands. 

It still suits you more – a pained expression, pure terror, all the emotions that a young woman like you should experience when she is captured by someone like him – he believes in terror through submission and the tears streaming down your face makes his cock twitch in his pants. 

— I have all the right for you, little one. It’s your father’s fault that you were not protected more. 

He laughs, his large, imposing hand goes to cup your ass – you don’t even understand how his touch manages to get through this many layers of clothing. Your skirt is in complete disarray when he touches your legs, squishing and destroying the crinoline parts and whale bones. So much went into creating this skirt, a horrifying construct that never allowed the Princess to move freely, stuck in one place like a glorified little dolly – now it becomes your grave, mortifying and freezing you in one place. 

— You can’t…no, please, don’t…

He grabs your hips with the ferocity of a warrior, not an emperor. Rulers shouldn’t kidnap Princesses from neighboring countries, and they shouldn’t lead their troops on an operation that would destroy any diplomatic relationships with them – but he stands here, no more than a normal soldier, and you were never this terrified in your life before. He is a monster, a beast, an anomaly that shouldn’t exist in this world – even your desire to protect the Princess isn’t stopping you from crying and shaking. You bite your lips and sob softly, quietly, hoping he won’t just throw you to his men. 

— This is what politics leads to, no? Your father decided to stop being diplomatic…and I did too. 

He isn’t my father, you want to scream. He did nothing but take you from the streets, and slums you were scrambling aimlessly like nothing more but a tiny critter under his boots – he gave you everything, any book you wanted, the best company in the whole kingdom. He isn’t your father, still, but you pay for his mistakes – mistakes that you had no idea of. Princess ordered you to ignore any mail that would come from “This Northern brute” and you didn’t know that it could come to this. 

If only you were to steal those letters and read them instead of throwing them away…but what would it come to? Princess wouldn’t marry someone like König, she had no like for the emperor twice her age, for the human who defiled the very laws of nature, sitting in his high castle, ordering the undead soldiers around. Monster with, probably, three heads and two faces, with four hands hiding under his magnificent armor. A beast who is…

A best who is cradling you in his arms like you were his lover, not his victim. 

— Put me down. Please. 

— I’m getting tired of listening to little Princesses wailing. Tell me, Liebling, do you wish to continue this journey quietly or unconsciously? 

His hand goes to your neck – no doubt, he would be able to squish the life out of you if he so wished. No doubt, you are fucked – utterly and completely, with his ability to do whatever he wants your inability to stop him in any way. Sobbing softly, not wanting for him to continue this humiliation, you simply nod – to whatever option he deems appropriate. Princess would be screaming, yelling for help, and she would stomp her adorable feet on the ground until she’d get what she wanted – but you are no Princess, and playing pretend already makes you miserable enough. 

— I do not wish to see the destruction of my kingdom. 

— It’s not destroyed, little Princess. Merely defiled, captured and burned down. 

— You didn’t…

— Of course not, kleine Hase. I wouldn’t dare to burn the newest addition to my empire…unless you would make me to. 

It’s not a threat – it’s a promise, poorly concealed by the obvious smile in his voice. You cling to his chest and hear the rumble of his laugh when he pushes his cape over your shivering form. It’s a small form of comfort, but an unwelcome one – you’d rather be shivering, naked, and exposed in front of his troops than find comfort in the way he treats you. His cloak is heavy, more suited for the harsh weather of the central parts of the Empire – not your kingdom, mostly warm and wet, with bountiful rains and plentiful soil. You understand why he would want this land – you don’t understand why he would want you. 

— Don’t hurt my people. 

— Be nice then. You can be nice to your husband, ja? 

If you weren’t a Princess, you’d claw his fucking eyes out – get your dainty hands under his hood and scrap the pulsating flesh, turn his face into a mush of blood and gore. If you were real Princess, you would declare war on the Empire and die the protector of your kingdom – not a terrified girl. 

But you’re neither a Princess nor a commoner. 

You push your lips together, allowing König to take you away. Accepting your fate not with dignity, but with quiet, fearful acceptance. 

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #könig call of duty

[matchadobo]

masterpost

if you follow me and you satisfy these conditions: no icon/header, no interactions with my posts, no likes/following, no bio—you will be blocked. reposting my works WITHOUT CREDIT including edits, colorings/art, and writings are strictly prohibited. full masterlist and rules for requests under the cut.

rules for requests

no yandere tropes or anything violent/abusive

no race specific nor gender specific (in this case, i only write for gn and afab) nor appearance specific nor age specific or generally something-specific SJASDDJSAJ

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minors should proceed with their own discretion when visiting my blog and giving requests (i am not enabling minors but i also have no control of their content consumption, this is only a warning and a reminder)

not a native english speaker but i am fluent in this language, just don't expect top tier grammar lmao

i mostly write for kidd, but i'm willing to try and write for these characters. these are the only characters i will accept for requests: (these may subject to change)

fantasy tropes are welcomed! i especially love writing for these, you can check my past hcs for reference (although i don't write for hybrids/minks/fishman/furries, it's uncomfortable for me)

smut and/or suggestive themes are also welcomed, but please don't expect much i'm just starting to get the hang of it T^T

i only write from upto 3 characters for each request, you can put more than 3 people in your requests but i will only choose upto 3

KEEP IN MIND

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colorings

sasaki to miyano

kaeya, diluc, and zhongli

dr. vegapunk/york

izou of ringo

why so serious?

the king of the underworld

raitei no yoroi

hibari and kujaku

BEELZEBUB; Hurry... Quickly... Please... Kill me. As brutally... and... as hideously as you can.

QIFREY; o, rushing waves... bring to me the one i seek

hcs and scenarios

all my writing are catered to fem readers unless mentioned otherwise

KIDD; it all started with a drink

ACE; guitar

KIDD; make me pretty, aye?

KIDD; bet

KIDD; 9 things i hate about you

KIDD; how does eustass kidd propose?

KIDD; kidd as a father

KIDD; coming home to you

KIDD; eustass kidd as a college student

KIDD; 3 times he almost said i love you and 1 time he actually did

SHANKS; bathing with the emperor on a hot summer day🔞

KIDD; beauty & the beast

KIDD; dates with college kidd

BENN; billiards séx🔞

KIDD; the captain has an allergy!

KIDD; the captain's madam🔞

KIDD; the pirate's princess🔞

KIDD; kidd being sweet

KIDD; reconcilation

KIDD; n/sfw alphabet🔞

IZOU; haircare with izou

KONIG; someone to come home to🔞

KIDD; overnight

KIDD; how does he apologize after a petty fight

KIDD; giving him flowers

KIDD; toxic ex

KIDD; doing the shaving for him

KIDD; biker kidd au

KIDD; babysitter🔞

SHANKS; safeword🔞

KIDD; fvck me like you love me🔞

KIDD; calm to his storm

ACE; the way you look tonight

KIDD & KILLER; gifts

KIDD; christmas headcanons

KIDD & KILLER; north blue s/o

KIDD; soft and loving kidd

KIDD; tending to his wounds

KIDD; it's the captain's birthday🔞

KIDD; birthday present🔞

KIDD; runaway princess

KIDD; overheard🔞

KIDD; avenging you

TBoTE SERIES

intro w/ chapter list

edits/fmvs

KIDD; make way for the king

KÖNIG; der Panzer

LAXUS DREYAR

RWRB; tahanan

playlists

eustass kidd

zosan

shanks

perona

sanji

nico robin

weeb sh!t

opm

#cha's masterlist #cha writes #cha colors #cha edits

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Do you mind if other people write about roman konig? as long as its not copying yours?

Of course not!! It’s not by any means an original idea, and lots of people have written for Gladiator!König for example. Would love to see more takes on Roman or Greek König ❤️

Gladiators, Roman emperors, Greek gods, please, indulge in all historical and fantasy AUs to your heart’s and ovaries content! 💋

#answered

[lycheedr3ams]

i hope this question is okay but what other blogs do you like? is there any you recommend? i hope this question is okay, sorry if it isn't.

I love @kneelingshadowsalome she has amazing konig fics and I am in LOVE with all the fantasy au's she does for konig. I can never get enough! words can't describe her writing

I also like @konigsbodypillow, the blog is silly but in a good way, and I just love its content

im sure there are more I like but im really tired rn and can't remember any others

#konig #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig mw2 #cod mw2 #answered #lychee speaks #blog recommendations

[comfortless]

Hii!! I’m in love with your writing!! I’m not good at navigating tumblr (it’s so confusing ╥﹏╥) I wanted to know if you have other account/story reccs similar to the ones you write? I just can’t get enough of fantasy Konig, you’ve been feeding me so well these past few days bahaha I’m greedy for more stories like that ^^;

hi! hi!! raaah thank you so very much!! <3 (it still baffles me a bit that people? enjoy? the silly little König stories that i write hehe)

and oh gosh… i do not get enough quiet time to read as much as i would like to, and there are just so many talented folks in the cod community. everyone has so many refreshing ideas and beautiful words, but please accept this (tiny) fantasy rec list!!

please please please read Kingdom Come by wordstome. the dynamic between König and reader in this is one of my absolute favorites. No spoilers, but there are so many original plot points and elements in this work. Bucca is a master at just. making you feel at home with her characters. and König in this??? i would chew through my own arm like a coyote in a trap just to get one chance to kiss him. & her nutcracker prince au?? pure whimsy.

though Fatum Nos Iungebit by kneelingshadowsalome is a historical au there are some fantasy/mythological elements there. König even calls us ‘Fee’ (fairy). i simply felt as though i found god reading this. it is so beautiful and so well put together. i can not even begin to articulate just how lovely this story is and just how every little thing holds weight. also everything in her satyr!König tag my GOD. i love him.

also i know there’s a LOT of eldritch! König stuff but I’ve yet to read any of it grr ))•:

if anyone else knows of any others please comment!!

i would like to read more too! <:•)

#i need to actually make an ask tag i think hmm #also i swear i’m forgetting some so i may have to scurry back and update this later! #asks! #<- that will do

[soaps-hoe-141]

Oh, oh! Can we get some uhhhh... 10, 20, & 24 with the boys? (I am pathetically shaking my little jar of Wade lore as well 🥺 pls, it can fit so much more in it)

Finally answering you, sorry it took a few days. I've been exhausted, but here ya go. Also this is in regards to this post

Watcher

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC? College AU or a Fantasy AU

Does you OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest? Hmmm I don't think so honestly. Watcher knows he's the shit I think so even if he does see someone trying to get Konig's attention he just shrugs it off. He knows he's the main character.

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions? Definitely a streamer. He's just a gaymer at heart. Different though, I don't think it would be much different. Except for the fact he never would have met Konig, he might have stayed a little more shy than he is now. I think working with the 141 gave him a lot of confidence, made him feel a lot more comfortable with himself.

Speck

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC? Cowboy AU definitely

Does you OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest? Yes. Terribly jealous. It usually manifests as self-loathing in some way though cause he doesn't actually think he deserves to be with anyone (my poor man has no self-confidence at all)

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions? Definitely would have been a professional rodeo guy. On the road 24/7. His life would have been drastically different. No kids, probably not as much trauma in terms of relationships, and even just in general honestly. Definitely would have been a happier man in the long run I think.

Wade

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC? Medieval AU or maybe Mafia AU

Does you OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest? Oh yeah, definitely. He gets very angry about it, will throw hands and get petty.

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions? I think even Wade wonders what he could have done differently in terms of his life path. There will be Wade lore when the new chapter of Back Together comes out, but Wade actually went to college got a degree and everything but had no idea what he wanted to do when he got out. He was lost af when he finally got out which is why he's not higher ranking, it took him quite a while to get to that point. If he hadn't gone into the army the only thing I can see him doing otherwise is maybe accounting of some kind? Maybe?