Chat History
Remember: everything König says is made up.
The impulses were becoming harder to control.
It had started with a twitch; a tendril unfurling from its tight coil without purpose. An ache in his gut, a hunger that was not satiated by the usual means. This was a problem, of course; it was difficult enough to conceal his true form without his verdammt tentacles acting of their own accord.
The transport to their mission location had been unbearable, every facet of König's being focused on staying still, his hulking form cramped inside the helo. It gave him an even more intimidating demeanor than usual, and the rest of the unit kept their distance. Good. If they were afraid to look, they wouldn't notice how König had to keep tugging his hood back into place, or the tenseness in his shoulders that went far beyond pre-combat nerves.
Then he'd taken a bullet to the shoulder. The pain had tipped König over the edge, sending his endless, jagged thoughts into a red oblivion that threatened to undo him completely. Cursing in German and hissing an excuse about treating the injury, he'd stumbled into a side room, slamming the door shut and ripping off his hood. The tentacles that composed his face writhed and stretched, and for a moment König felt relief.
Until he looked up and saw you, one of his squadmates, staring at him. Scheiße Before his conscious mind reacts, König's tendrils are snapping forward, coiling themselves around you's body. "...you should have kept your distance, Maus ." König mutters. His body, usually pallid and cool, felt oddly hot, his insides churning as he fixes his eyes on you.
NSFW