#kingxiety

Anxiety chews his inner cheek, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He ignores King, and instead says "I'm forced to listen to the light sides complain too. You're bothering everybody." 

"Oh?" King's lips quirk into a smug smile. "You'd know plenty about that, wouldn't you?" 

Anxiety frowns, lips curling into a sneer. He again brushes off King's jab, and curtly says "why are you being so nonchalant? Aren't you supposed to be on their side?" 

Huffing out out a laugh that's powerful enough to echo throughout the shimmering room, King answers "my dear, I'm on my own side. The lights don't understand nor value my prowess, and the only thing Deceit is good at is criticism. In fact, I'm surprised that you even perpetuate this silly idea of 'sides.'" 

Looking uncomfortable, Anxiety responds "we're all on a side. We can't change that. You can't just not be a light side because you're saying you're not. Same way I can't be a light side just by saying I am." 

"And why not?" 

Anxiety is no longer standing still, as this conversation makes him nervous. King almost questions why Deceit would send him here in the first place, before realizing that the former was probably too lazy to do it himself. He had a habit of attempting to solve problems from the shadows, after all, and refusing to address them until he absolutely had to. 

After a few moments, Anxiety lets out an agitated huff and turns to walk away and leave this place, already sulking at the idea of recounting his failure to Deceit, but before he can get out the door, King stops him with a genuine "wait." 

Anxiety lingers in the doorway despite his better judgement, not turning to look at King but awaiting his words. Silence hangs in the air for a moment, before Anxiety hears King chuckle softly. 

"How about a proposition?" King begins, which has Anxiety frowning and turning to scowl at King. 

"I'm not one for making deals," Anxiety bitterly responds, "or doing favors. Whatever sick and twisted torture you'd like to do can surely be done on any of your fabricated peasants." 

King waves his hand dismissively. "I wasn't alluding to torture, silly," he assures him, though the words feel rather condescending. "I can imagine why you'd worry about that, however. I'm not ignorant to the more... experimental things I do to my creations. But, no, the things I want to do to you are much more fun, and - after you hear me out - you have full autonomy to refuse. I'll even let you slap me across my perfect face should my offer offend you, if you so desire." 

Anxiety raises his chin. He does desire knocking the smug look off of King's groomed countenance.

"If you do my the honor of accompanying me to my chambers, I shall consider loosening my hold on Thomas's sleep schedule, and will instead relegate my wonderful ideas to strictly daylight hours."

"Accompany you... as in..." 

King's lips stretch into a delighted grin. "Sleep with me. Have sex with me. Love-make with me. Whatever you'd like to call it." 

"What do you get out of this?" Anxiety asks, stunned. 

King shrugs. "I could ask you the same question." 

Anxiety splutters in a mixture of frustration and fluster, clearly conflicted between the options of sleeping with King or getting chewed out by Deceit. Neither were favorable, but honestly the lesser of two evils was sitting right before him, and had spread his legs and leaned forward, smirking as he waits for Anxiety to consider his words. 

Hesitant, Anxiety shuffles forward, and says "fine, whatever. Let's go to your bedroom and get this over with," attempting to hide the fact his eyes flicker over King's large stomach and tall stature once he stands. 

King descends from the throne of which he was previously seated upon, and rather shamelessly lifts Anxiety up off the ground in a practiced scoop, cradling Anxiety easily in one arm, only made easier by their rather comparable size discrepancy. Anxiety immediately starts squirming, spewing out "put me down, freak!" but his protests are ignored in favor of King throwing open a large set of double doors, and tossing Anxiety onto an even larger bed. 

As he thrashes, Anxiety only manages to further tangle himself in the sheets, and it takes a solid few minutes for his head to finally emerge from a plethora of silk blankets and cotton sheets. 

"Asshole!" Anxiety hisses, snarling in King's direction as his bangs fall messily over his face. Even as they obscure his eyes, King can tell he's glaring. "Are you trying to kill me?!" 

"You can't die," King reminds him, before shrugging off his dramatic, floor-length cape, letting it gently fall to the floor. His hands shamelessly then begin undoing his shirt, which has Anxiety staring, enraptured. His cheeks are bright red while King's face displays nothing but smugness, even more confident once his shirt is peeled away and Anxiety is looking up and down his bare chest and stomach. 

King was big in all regards. If he flexed - which he does solely to gauge Anxiety's reaction - he developed rather prominent muscles. Sturdy abs, big arms, defined pectorals, all beautifully decorated with hair. And when he relaxed - which he does immediately after - all that muscle softens into pudgy fat, giving him a rather big silhouette that was simultaneously domineering and huggable. 

"Don't you know it's rude to stare?" King teases, as he undoes his pants just enough to pull them off easier later. Anxiety seems both embarrassed and annoyed that King keeps them on. 

"I'm just trying to mentally prepare for seeing you on top of me," Anxiety bitterly refutes. "I'm sure it won't be pretty." 

King huffs out a laugh. "My dear," he starts, leaning over the edge of his bed and beginning to crawl onto it, "everything I do is pretty." 

Anxiety shrinks back against the sheets, as though encouraged to by King's massive build, until he's laying flat on his back and King is leaning over him. King's fingers tauntingly trace over the blankets beside his head and around his body, but don't touch him outright, instead blowing on Anxiety to move his hair out of his face. Anxiety grimaces at the action, and then narrows his eyes at King afterwards. 

"Prick," he mutters. 

King ignores him. "Well? Aren't you going to get undressed?" 

"I've been too tangled in your stupidly large bed to move, let alone get undressed! Are you trying to get me to give up and go back to the dark side? Because right now, you're pissing me off way more than Deceit would." 

King makes a face. "Don't compare us. I'm far better than him, the same way I'm far better than you." 

"Far better at being annoying." 

Frowning, King pushes his hand into the bed beside Anxiety's head, sliding his knees upwards and forcing Anxiety's legs to spread around his waist. Anxiety flushes at their shifting position. 

"Watch your words," King scolds him, voice low, "remember that you're in my domain, and I won't tolerate disrespect. You're free to leave if you'd like; I already told you that you may. But I won't sit here and take your bratty behavior the same way that lazy, two-faced, no-good, encroaching-" 

"King," Anxiety says, snapping King out of his mini rant. King almost looks surprised for a moment, before grinning, and bending down further to reach Anxiety's face. 

With their lips almost touching, and his stomach pressing down rather pleasurably against Anxiety's front, King says "that's my king, to you," and then uses his hand to tilt Anxiety's head upwards. He catches Anxiety's lips in a deep kiss, moving his lips rather expertly against Anxiety's own inexperienced ones, listening to the little noises of humiliation the latter makes as he's blessed with this intimate experience. 

When King pulls away, he begins sliding his hands up Anxiety's dark grey shirt. Anxiety shivers at his touch, but doesn't stop King, and instead turns his head to the side in an attempt to keep himself composed. 

"Do you have any qualms about me stripping you down?" King asks, as he slowly begins to drag up the fabric concealing Anxiety's front. "Or are you secretly looking forward to this endeavor?" 

"I don't look forward to anything," Anxiety rebuttals, "let alone anything involving you or the other lights."  

"Hurtful," King huffs, "but not an answer to my question." 

Rolling his eyes, Anxiety spits "do whatever you want, so long as you do it fast. I don't want to be here longer than I have to be." 

It's King's turn to look annoyed, though playfully so, and pulls Anxiety's hoodie and shirt off and revealing the thin, pale stomach underneath. King raises an eyebrow and pokes him, which has Anxiety slapping his hand away at the action. 

"You could stand to gain a few pounds," King comments, which has Anxiety groaning. 

"Are you seriously criticizing my looks right now?" he crosses his arms over his stomach, subtly attempting to hide it. "As if you weren't the one proposing we sleep together. If you want somebody 'perfect' then you can just summon a sex doll!" 

King moves Anxiety's arms out of way. "It's not a critique; it's a... suggestion. Doesn't Deceit feed you?" 

"I feed myself." 

"Not very much from the looks of it." King hums as he pins Anxiety's wrists above his head, dragging his large fingers over the scarily prominent ribcage and hip bones. As King's fingers circle Anxiety's pelvis, he suddenly smirks, and adds "but this means my cock will be nice and snug inside of you. Do you think I'll be able to see the outline of my shaft through your stomach?" 

Anxiety stares at him and splutters. "What? I don't- you freak! You're weird!" 

King grins, and then undoes his pants just enough to let his cock out, which has Anxiety shutting up almost immediately. Leaning over Anxiety, King's cock presses between his own heavy, hairy stomach, and Anxiety's smaller one, which lets Anxiety truly see just how large King's cock is. Sure, he could have assumed that it'd be big - King is twice his size, after all - but it nearly goes all the way up to Anxiety's ribcage, and it's girthier than Anxiety's own fist. 

"Holy... shit..." Anxiety breathes, voice shaky. "King... I don't... that won't-" 

"It will," King assures him. "You'll stretch. Don't worry; I'll even pamper you a bit so it doesn't hurt. Trust me; I'm an expert on all things intimacy." 

Anxiety grits his teeth. "Whatever. Just... just..." 

King shushes him, and pets over Anxiety's face, before working off Anxiety's skinny jeans. Anxiety doesn't bother making it easier for him, and leaves King to do all the work, but it's only a matter of time before all his clothes land on the floor, making him feel naked and vulnerable. It has him flushing dark and avoiding King's eyes, but even so he can feel King staring intensely at him. 

King waves his hand and summons up a rather large bottle of lube soon after, and then dumps half of it onto one of his large hands, smearing it between his fingers and making sure they're all properly coated in the substance. 

"Relax," King urges Anxiety, rubbing his clean thumb over Anxiety's wrists, which he releases after a moment, letting Anxiety grip the sheets instead. "You're going to feel so, so good." 

Anxiety feels one of King's massive, thick fingers slide down past his balls and between his crack, smearing an excess amount of lube over his cheeks before just one of his fingers is pushing inside. Immediately, his toes curl, and his back is arching off the bed as he bites back a moan of unfamiliarity. It feels foreign, but not bad. Just... overwhelming. 

"There we go..." King praises him, his soft tone quite the contrast to his earlier ego. "Look at you, taking my finger so well! At this rate, you'll be able to handle my cock in no time!" 

Anxiety peeks one of his eyes open to stare at King's throbbing shaft, still rubbing against his smaller frame. Meekly, he retorts "I doubt that," but his voice is barely above a whisper. And honestly, he doesn't bother repeating himself, not wanting to give King any reason to stop. He's almost ashamed of how his own cock hardens at King's rubbing over it, and how it twitches as he thinks about being impaled on King's length. 

King's free hand stays planted on the bed beside Anxiety's head, but very subtly begins to crawl over Anxiety's collarbones. And as King very slowly begins to insert a second finger - stretching Anxiety further than he's ever been stretched - King's hand wraps around his throat, squeezing the sides of Anxiety's neck and limiting his blood flow, causing a sudden rush of surprise, pleasure, and dizziness to be sent through him. His hips attempt to jerk, but hardly go anywhere with King's thick fingers buried inside of him. 

"Good boy," King coos, eating up Anxiety's pathetic display with his intense eyes. "You're doing great. Relax..." 

Pumping his fingers in and out of Anxiety, King is fully aware of just how pleasured Anxiety must feel. Sure, he's clearly not used to this, but King watches with a smug smile as Anxiety's mouth opens in a silent moan and his body jerks as King's digits dig particularly deep into him. 

Easing his grip on Anxiety's throat, he listens giddily as Anxiety sucks in a mouthful of air, before exclaiming a rather powerful "fuck!" that says everything King needs to know about how Anxiety is feeling. 

As he adds a third finger, he tightens his grip again, once again leaving Anxiety literally breathless. 

Anxiety's small hands press against King's much larger one, but not to try and push him away. Mostly just to keep himself grounded as spit dribbles from the corners of his agape mouth. 

He can't breathe, and he can hardly think, and King's fingers just stretch him open without a care. He's going slow enough that Anxiety can't even worry about potential tearing, and it doesn't hurt regardless because of how thorough King is being. And he doesn't boast about how careful he is, but Anxiety can tell. He can see in King's eyes how badly he wants to get on to the main event, and yet he takes his time anyway. That mere fact has Anxiety letting out a strained whimper as his small cock rubs against King's. 

The pads of his fingers nudge against Anxiety's prostate, making Anxiety jolt as much as he possibly can beneath King's heavy weight, and what finally has King grinning and slipping his fingers out. 

"There we go," he purrs, as he releases Anxiety's throat, letting him take in a much needed breath. His hand moves to instead grab the back of Anxiety's thigh and lift it up, pulling his hips up from the mattress. 

Anxiety watches as King takes the remaining bottle of lube and pushes it against his hole, before squeezing the bottle, suddenly and intensely flooding Anxiety's insides with the substance. Anxiety lets out a cry, and reaches behind him to grab a pillow, throwing it at King's face out of sheer instinct. 

King laughs as it hits him. "What?" he argues, his mustache stretched over his playful smile. "This was the most efficient way to make sure things would go comfortably!" 

He pulls the bottle from Anxiety's hole, shakes it (which leaves Anxiety to watch as the bottle's contents are magically refilled) and then turns it upside down, using up the entire bottle once more on lubing up his cock. Anxiety almost believes it to be excess, but watching as King spreads it over his length has Anxiety now doubting if it's even enough. 

"King," Anxiety starts, nervousness clear in his voice. But King just shushes him, and squeezes his thigh, rubbing his massive cock against Anxiety's awaiting hole. 

"King," Anxiety says again, whimpering the word out. "King, is this- is this-" 

"It won't hurt," King assures him. "I'd never hurt you, I promise. And if it does, you tell me, and I'll stop. And if it doesn't, but you're not having fun, I'll stop then as well. Would you like me to stop now?" 

Anxiety's eyes shine with brief hesitation, before he's flushing dark and biting his lip as he shakes his head no.

King kisses his ankle as he guides it to wrap around his waist. "Good boy," he soothes, before he very slowly begins to work his cock into the man beneath him. 

Anxiety moans loud and pathetically as he feels the tip of King's shaft stretch him open. It's way more inside of him than King's fingers even were, but like King promised, it doesn't hurt. However, Anxiety does wonder if his body will be able to hold the massive length, as he already feels incredibly full while being fully aware King's barely halfway inside of him. 

"It's not gonna-" Anxiety stammers, as he watches his thin stomach bulge with King's girth. He sets his shaky hands against his stomach, pressing down on King's cock from the outside, which makes them both groan. 

"It will," King responds, not even needing Anxiety to finish. He lowers Anxiety's hips a bit so he can properly get a look at the bump, and lets out a satisfied laugh when he sees it. He presses his own hand down on it, enveloping Anxiety's fingers in his grasp, which has Anxiety gasping and squirming, squeaking out pathetic obscenities as he's filled further and further. And King just keeps pressing his cock deeper and deeper into him. 

Anxiety watches the bulge creep up his stomach - past what Logic would say is plausible. He knows they're not real, but even this is a ridiculous stretch! Literally!

Until finally King's entire length is buried deep in him, leaving his hips off the bed and his stomach stretched. 

Anxiety's eyes are brimming with pretty tears, his face a deep red. His hair is slick to his head with sweat, and one of his hands is tangled in the sheets, while the other stays trapped beneath King's own. 

Whimpering, Anxiety opens his mouth to plead, but no sound comes out. Anything he wants to say dies before it can even come up his throat. Every little bit of him is overwhelmed by the way King feels inside of him, and he can barely comprehend it. Especially when King starts moving; Anxiety barely has time to prepare. 

"King," Anxiety moans out, as he feels King's cock shift within him. Every movement King makes feels amplified tenfold to Anxiety, who's body is on the receiving end of each bit of stimulation. Still though, King slowly slides his cock halfway out, which makes Anxiety feel already so much emptier. He can barely brace himself for when King thrusts back in. 

He lets out a cry as King shoves his shaft back fully inside of him, with King exhaling sharply at the feeling. 

"Deep breath, Anxiety," King guides him, as if sweat isn't rolling down his thick chest, drawing Anxiety's blurry pupils to his attractive midsection. "In, and out." King pulls out a bit again, and then thrusts hard, making Anxiety's body jolt once more. King releases his stomach, but keeps hold of Anxiety's hand, pinning it above Anxiety's head and entwining their fingers. King's massive hand envelops Anxiety's digits, but Anxiety finds himself embarrassingly comforted by the wordless act of affection. "You're doing so well. You're taking my cock so well. It's rather impressive, honestly." 

Though Anxiety feels overwhelmed, he can't help but grin at King's words, and pant out "asshole," which has King smiling knowingly. 

Assured that Anxiety is at least comfortable enough to joke around, King slips more of his cock out, before thrusting in. He positions a hand on Anxiety's hip to help rock him on his cock, which makes both of them moan. 

As Anxiety clenches around him, squeezing his cock from all sides with his small body, King can't help but feel pleasured. 

"No person I can summon could possibly feel as good as you do," King grunts, as he watches Anxiety's stomach bulge with each thrust of his cock. "You stretch realistically, you react pathetically; you're the perfect combination of slut and sass to keep me interested." 

"You're lucky you're bigger than I am," Anxiety pants out, though he's quickly interrupted by an intense moan that he fails to swallow down, "otherwise your cheek would have a bright red handprint on it right about now." 

King squeezes Anxiety's hand, unable to hide his amusement at the comment as he continues fucking into him. He never speeds up past a steady pace - clearly not wanting to overwhelm him - but makes sure he thrusts hard. His thick shaft rubs against Anxiety's prostate, abusing it constantly without even trying. Anxiety's beautifully teary eyed, biting back softer noises but unable to keep the louder ones from escaping his lips, as his body trembles and he cries out. King can even imagine his back arching off the bed if he didn't have a massive cock inside of him weighing him down. 

"King," Anxiety whines, barely able to articulate his thoughts. "King-" 

"Close already?" King coos, interrupting Anxiety's train of thought. Anxiety gives him an embarrassed glare, but doesn't refute King's words, instead just biting his lips and weakly nodding. King groans as he leans over Anxiety further, pressing their bodies together and making Anxiety feel wonderfully trapped beneath King's hairy stomach. "That's okay. I'm flattered, if anything. Go ahead and come. I'm not done with you yet." 

Anxiety tries to meekly protest, though nothing is properly said, and though Anxiety does bitterly try and hold back his orgasm, his cock is being actively stimulated by King's own torso, and his prostate being thrust against truthfully doesn't help in his spiteful endeavor. So despite his embarrassment, Anxiety comes quickly thereafter, with a loud cry spilling from his throat as his head presses back into the fluffy pillows beneath him. 

King moans at his display. "God, Anxiety, who knew you'd make such a good toy?" he murmurs, and watches as Anxiety's overstimulated display can do nothing to argue against his words. Instead, Anxiety's eyes fill with shining tears, as his hand clenches hard to King's upper arm, nails digging into the flesh. He needs something to hold onto, and King is more than happy to be scratched by his jagged, bitten nails. 

"I shouldn't give you too much credit, though," King is quick to add, as he clarifies "most people are obedient for their king. Who's your king, Anxiety? Am I your king?" 

"N-n-" 

King thrusts into him rough, promptly shutting up his refutation. "Try again." 

"Mm," Anxiety presses his lips into a thin line, turning his head stubbornly to the side. Against King's stomach, his cock twitches, and is rubbed and fucked quickly back to full hardness, still slick with his mess from mere moments ago. 

"Say it." 

King's breathing speeds as he watches the tears roll rapidly down Anxiety's cheeks. Though Anxiety is attempting to refuse his words, King just can't back down. 

"Say it, or I swear I'll leave right now, and won't budge an inch when your desperate, pathetic, needy self comes crawling back to me for the satisfaction you know only I can bring you. Who's your king?" 

Anxiety's pupils dart in his direction, his eyes shining with the same lust and neediness that King's sure his own reflect. Both of them want this. Both of them are holding to the other, clinging to them. 

"You're-" Anxiety whimpers, letting out an overwhelmed sob as King fucks into his prostate, filling him with his cock, "you're my- my-" he sucks in a shaky breath, and squeezes his eyes shut to avoid meeting King's. "My king." 

King moans at his words, and presses the entirety of his body into Anxiety's. "Fuck yes," he breathes, his words barely loud enough for Anxiety to process as their bodies are as close as they can be. He holds Anxiety tightly, gripping him and thrusting into him as if Anxiety was a prized possession, and Anxiety gasps when he feels King's lips on his neck. 

Without warning, and while gingerly kissing the flesh of Anxiety's throat where his hands were squeezing earlier, he comes, filling Anxiety's small body with loads of semen. 

Anxiety truly feels he might burst. It's shot into him in massive waves, at first just flooding his insides, and then truly beginning to fill it. He's shocked there's even room considering how much space King's own cock takes up, but at the same time can feel streams squirting out his hole, dirtying the mattress. King makes an awfully pathetic noise into Anxiety's ear as he fills him. Anxiety comes too, both from the few, weaker thrusts King does as he rides out his orgasm, and from the feeling of being further stretched open. And then King pulls up, letting them both see the way Anxiety's stomach has bloated with his come, having been inflated without a care in the world. 

Anxiety opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out, and instead he raises his trembling head towards King. King pets through his hair, smoothing his sweaty bangs out of his face. 

"Good job," he praises, voice soft, in such a genuine manner that Anxiety has to look away in an attempt to hide his blush. "You did such a good job. So good." 

King slowly slides his cock out of him, making Anxiety cringe at the feeling of King's semen gushing out of him as well, but King doesn't even comment on it. Instead, he lifts Anxiety's messy body up off the sheets with incredible ease, and tucks him against his chest, a lot sweeter than Anxiety would have expected him to behave. 

"I'll run us a bath," King whispers, as he brings them both out of bed. "My tub is more than big enough for both of us. And you can spend the night with me, if you so desire. You'd be a great reason not to get out of bed and keep Thomas awake." 

Anxiety flushes, and turns his head away. He gives no response, but doesn't decline all the same, so King decides that if he wants to leave, he may. But for now, he carries him to his massive, conjoined bathroom, and does indeed start the water, which pours from the faucet with bubble soaps and Epsom salts already pre-mixed in (as per the magic-adjacent rules of the imagination). He holds Anxiety intimately as he sits on the tub's ledge, waiting for the bath to fill.