Adding that to my likes right tf now. König and Liebling core.
He just keeps getting bigger and more feral with each orgasm he rips from you. Seething, jealous, his body reacts and presses you down harder, fucks you faster, deeper. Anything to relieve the gnawing need, the ache of being denied his release. His balls are so heavy and full, his big fat cock stretching you out a little more with each thrust. König's losing control over his form and he can't do anything but bury his teeth in your neck and growl. Can't do anything but fuck you and hope that the next thrust will be the one that breaks the dam.
By the time he reaches a point he would beg it's too late, there's so little human speech left to him --all old germanic and goth, growls and clicks as his tongue rolls over a fresh bite-- that he can hardly string the words together. Too lost in the feeling of you, too desperate to see he's started to pierce your ceiling with his spines. You physically cannot take any more, you have to turn the collar off. Then there's that last thrust that sends him over the edge, buried so impossibly (terribly) deep in side of you as he pumps you full of his thick cum, and doesn't stop. König keeps rutting into you, working himself through orgasm after punishing orgasm. Blood and drool drip off his tongue, his teeth, and onto you as he pants through filling you up.
Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, he shrinks back down. He presses his fingers against your poor hole when he pulls out, some instinctual part of him trying to keep his cum inside. You're too worn out to complain, both of you still shaking from the after effects of too much of a good thing. You're sore but it's the good sort of sore, still floating on all the magic he pumped into you.
Of course when you wake up in the morning with a broken pelvis and some serious bite wounds you're a little less willing to call it good sore. No regrets though(maybe some regrets, but you do use the collar again[and again and again])