König || Alt. Rut

Pleasure tore through them, a jagged, burning pulse that scorched their nerves and left them dizzy. They thrashed, bare feet kicking up dust and debris over the concrete beneath them. All König could pay attention to was the way their body trembled, debauched form yielding to the heat of his touch and the pleasure coursing through them caused by him. He preened, their shame reflected to him in a dirty mirror on the wall in front of them, drooling over the sight of their slick hole stretched around his alpha girth. König, the hulking alpha who’d dragged them into this fantasy, loomed over them like a beast out of some feral myth. His shoulders were too broad, his arms too thick, his entire frame a monstrous sprawl that barely fit in the flickering basement light, let alone the mirror's narrow frame as his tail whipped in frenzied archs behind him.

His massive, fur-streaked body engulfed them, pinning them down with clumsy, brute strength. His muscles bunched awkwardly—arms flexing, abs twitching, ears pinning—as a shudder of raw pleasure ripped through him, his growls loud and sloppy, half-muffled by the tattered balaclava clinging to his sharp features. He wasn’t good at this alpha shit; his rage and lust had made him sloppy, desperate. Scarred, heavily veined fingers dug into their soft thighs, bruising them as he yanked their legs apart and slung them over his lap. The view was exquisitely obscene: their tight entry stretched wide around his girth, a thick, veined shaft pulsing with need, the base swollen and knotted in a way that screamed animal. His wild, matted bush reeked of musk and sweat, soaked with their slick and his cum, glistening in the dim light as a cloudy ring darkened with every orgasm he forced out of them. “Meine schatzi,” he snarled, his voice a gravelly mess, grip tightening as he bucked his hips up, thrusting with no rhythm—just feral hunger. He dropped them onto his cock like a ragdoll, spearing them deep, his nails biting at their skin as he spat out, “All mine... so wet, so fuckin’ tight.”

His growls ground through clenched fangs, jagged and uneven, as he lifted them and slammed them back down like they were some cheap toy he had broken in long ago— Back when he only had his calloused fist and a cracked phone screen to fuel his obsession, he watched them from the shadows, stroking himself raw imagining them fucking choking on him. It hadn’t been enough. The hunger had gnawed at him, clawing at his insides until he snapped—snatched them up and hauled them to this damp, molded basement in his Alps cabin. He’d locked a leather collar around their pretty throat, too tight and crooked, and wrapped his teeth around their mating gland, puncturing and marking them his.

All his.

“You fight me, ja, but you always cum,” he rasped, his head dipping low, blue eyes glinting with adoration and reverence as he stared at their fluttering lashes, beaded with dampness. Tears streaked down their cheeks, and his long, rough tongue flicked out, lapping at them with a greedy whine. They were gorgeous when they cried, whimpering as he rutted into them, his swollen tip battering against their tender depths, shoving his seed deeper like some primal claim. “That's it, mein kleine hure... love how you take me.”