#sub konig

The mission was a success—just barely. After a narrow escape from death, you returned a hero. Had you not been with your team, or even just missed that final turn, everyone would be injured, maybe even fatally. Everyone on base jumped at the chance to celebrate, eager to turn your team’s hard-won victory into an excuse to get drunk and hit the club. Not that you minded. After a mission like that, there was nothing better than poisoning yourself with a lovely bottle of vodka.

“Ah! There you are, unsere Heldin,” a familiar voice boomed behind you. Already smiling, you turn to him. “König! Glad you’re feeling better, buddy,” you gleam, lightly punching his shoulder. It was rather funny: despite being an absolute mammoth of a man, he was sick the entire mission due to food poisoning. He still did his best, mostly sniper work from afar, since he didn’t need to be moving too much. It was great to see that he is in fact human and not some mythological god; that he gets sick too. And he is quite sassy when he’s ill, for that matter.

Königs eyes crinkle beneath his mask, you assume he’s got a wide grin plastered on his hidden face. “Ja, danke. Look, I brought presents.” Your eyes trail to his lifted hands, they carry four shot glasses filled with clear liquid. They rest between his large fingers, two in each hand. He holds them tightly yet confidently, knowing he won’t let them spill or drop.

You smile and clap your hands before taking two of the four shots from him. Tilting your head towards an empty booth, König nods and follows. You sit side by side, shoulders touching, and knees bumping. Sliding the glasses on the wooden table before you, you realize some of the liquid had spilled on your hand. Not wanting it to get sticky when it dries, and not wanting to get back up to go to the bathroom, you mindlessly darted your tongue out. König watched as you quickly lapped the tip of your tongue against a corner of your palm. It was quick, done in a second, and you met his eyes. Rolling yours, you huff a laugh and explain, “I spilled some.” He already assumed so, so he nodded and smiled.

You always enjoyed being around König. At first he was quite intimidating and kind of a dick, but you accumulated that he’s just a bit shy and would rather come off as an arrogant asshole than an anxious coward. Of course, you’ve never seen him as such, even as he learned to grow comfortable with you. Now he was your greatest friend, comrade, and ally.

“Let’s drink!” You beam. Quickly grabbing one of the shot glasses, you hand it to König, then hold one up for yourself. König clinks his glass to yours and says, “auf ex!” He lifts his mask just above his lips before quickly throwing the shot back. Simply staring, your eyes trail over his now bare skin. The scars that litter his skin, one a clean line across his throat. The light stubble that was forgotten to be shaved. His head drops back down, the fabric of his hood conceals him once again. With eyes studying you with slight confusion, he asks, “why did you not drink?”

Blinking, you awkwardly chuckle. “Sorry, I just… forgot that you actually have a face under there. Or half of it, as far as I know.”

With an amused huff, König looked away. “I am not a monster, Mäuschen.” His thumb playing with the rim of his glass.

You raise a brow, “really? So who was that on the mission with me? Y’know, the one who was being a total ass.”

“Du bist lustig,” he laughs, shaking his head.

Still holding your shot, you raise it to him before tipping your head back and relaxing your throat. Fucking gin. You make a face and König nods his head to question it. “Gin, Seriously? You knew I hate that shit, you ass,” you laugh as you punch his shoulder lightly. Even if you hit him as hard as you can, you doubt he’d be in much distress. With his hands up in mock defense, he shakes his head. “Nein, I did not know! Versprechen.” Clicking your tongue, you roll your eyes and stand. “Well I’m going to get more drinks—ones I like—you want?”

König quickly fishes through his pockets and pulls out his wallet, handing you a black card. Raising an eyebrow, you twirl it in your hand. “It’s my fault you did not like your drink. So I must make it up to you.” You almost squealed out loud before clearing your throat and giving the card back, “no it’s okay. You didn’t know.”

Suddenly he towers over you. You furrow your brows but are cut off to speak when he does instead. “I will go,” he pushes you to sit in his place. “What drink do you like?” You answer, giving him a few of your go-tos. “Warte hier, don’t move.” And he’s off.

Your eyes tail him, watching as he carefully navigates through a small group of people. It’s like he changes completely when he’s around you, because as you watch him now, he seems uncomfortable. Awkward. Maybe even annoyed. Not at you, that you know. Maybe the bartender is saying something he doesn’t like? König has been ordering for a bit now. Finally, he turns away from the waiter, his eyes scanning around before meeting yours. You give him a wink which he mirrors. Though he slightly stutters? He accidentally blinked harshly twice before getting a successful wink. You roll your eyes in a laugh while he turns back around to pick up the drinks.

With new drinks on the table, you quickly begin sipping on your favourite. “We must celebrate you, ja? Unsere Heldin,” his eyes smile at you. You bite your lip in a grin and nod, “of course! But let’s be considerate with these drinks, I’m quite the lightweight. Wouldn’t want to blackout for our party.” König nods and picks up his drink, pulls his mask up, and drinks slowly. He knows you’re staring, a curious little thing, so he gives you a few extra seconds. And when he finishes, he doesn’t let his hood fall immediately, instead he flashes a smile, mouth flush and scarred with crooked teeth, but rather cute. You mirror his expression, and he finally lets his hood down.

You have no idea how you ended up back in your room, but here you are. Flat on your stomach, clothes scrunched uncomfortably, with sweat beads daring to leak down. You sit up, your hands darting around to feel for your phone. Unsuccessful, but at least every room gets a clock. You peer up at it after turning on the light, around two in the morning.

Not even thinking of the possibility of going back to sleep, you decide to just shower and look for your phone.

All cleaned up and dressed in new clothes, you slip on some slippers and leave your room. Taking a step toward the break room, you immediately swing around. You decide to visit König. After all, he would’ve been the only person to know what happened all night. You don’t remember much of anything after he brought your drinks. You even doubt he’s asleep, recalling the time where he confessed he struggles with sleeping, and only gets a few hours a night if any.

You’ve never been inside his room, only by the door when you came to relay messages or converse. His room was a bit more private, farther down the hall from others due to his higher rank. You wouldn’t be surprised if his room was bigger, as well.

Finally, you’re met with said room. But before your fist meets the wooden door, you freeze. Strange noises litter behind the door. You could hear frantic movement as well as sounds of… pain? You were unsure, but a bit alarmed. You had to intervene, right? You wanted to be a good friend and be there for him. You know he would be there for you. Your worries are subsided when Königs voice whines, “scheiße. Bitte, bitte, b-bitte…” More sounds of frantic shuffling evoke before he lets out a quiet sob and goes quiet.

You deem it incredibly weird for you to be standing here listening to him doing… whatever it is he’s doing. Cursing yourself mentally, you turn to leave. But of course the flooring decides to let out the loudest creaking sound. Rolling your eyes, you keep walking forward, slowly to not make so much noise.

“Maus?”

Fuck. You spin around to see his poked out head in front of his door. He has a black tank top on, with his hood, of course. You can’t see his lower half, though. You click your tongue and give him a deer-in-headlights look before masking it with a soft smile. “Uh, hey.”

“Do you want to come in?” He asks tilting his head. You feel embarrassed, caught. Like he knows you stood behind the door for a few minutes listening at the odd noises from within. But you purse your lips and nod nonetheless, “sure.” He leaves the door cracked open before slipping back inside. When you make it in, you notice that he’s putting pants on, and immediately turn to the wall. Feeling your face heat up, you divert your attention to some of his decor, or lack thereof. There is nothing but a singular book on his shelves, that, deodorant, and cologne. Simple man, it seems. “Entschuldigung. I am finished.”

Turning around, he’s right in front, towering over you. You feel awkward, you practically spied on his private time, standing there like some pervert.

“Did you hear me, Mäuschen?”

Oh, okay. You feel cornered. He knows. You know he knows. He knows you know he knows. It’s just a spiral, and you’re twirling right in it. You worry he’ll take it as a breach of trust, that he’ll be disgusted with you and put the walls he let down back up.

“Es ist okay, I am not mad,” he reassured. Your eyes finally meet his again, a guilty smile resting on your face. “I’m really sorry, I just came to talk to you and I didn’t realize you…” With a shake of his head, you don’t finish your sentence. “Ja, I am not upset. I am a little embarrassed, however.” Your head immediately begins to shake, “no, really, you shouldn’t be. I mean, you were in your private room, it was my fault,” you ramble on.

“Nein, it is not about that. I know that I must have sounded… bizarr,” he stutters out. His hands clench and unclench frequently, and his eyes dart all over his room. You choose your words carefully. admittedly being curious, you decide to ask: “why did you sound like you were in a lot of pain?” Maybe it’s a dumb question and has a super obvious answer, but you have never heard a man make noises like that. Honestly, you haven’t met a man who made noises at all, so this all confused you a bit.

König lets out a huff before dropping on the edge of his bed in front of you. You don’t move, just stare at him. “I am…very sensitive. It is not painful, just… überstimulierend—too much.” With his big hand rubbing the back of his neck, his big blue eyes search yours. Maybe he thinks you’ll be disgusted, that you’ll think ghis is too far away from strictly professional. But you don’t pull away, in fact, you bend to sit next to him. You’re curious, that much he can tell. Hoping to answer your question, he further elaborates, “when I’m close, I can not keep going. My body becomes hard to control—too much.”

Taking in his words, you kind of feel sorry for your friend. You wonder how weird it’s felt all these decades without releasing. Or maybe he has? “Have women… or men, not been able to make you… finish?”

König scoffs, turning his head the opposite direction. “Women laugh. What good is a man who is unable to control himself, they say. What good would I be to please a woman if I can not even please myself,” he chuckles. “Ich bin verflucht.”

Before your mind even begins to think about anything, you blurt out, “let me help you.”

An amused exhale leaves him, yet he shakes his head. “Sag das nicht, Maus. It is not your job to help me.”

You shake your head and put a hand on his shoulder. Yeah, it’s a little weird. Maybe a lot. Not him, but the whole situation, plus you offering to help. But why not? It shouldn’t be too hard, right? “I really wouldn’t mind. I would never judge you either.”

He takes a moment. Two moments. Three. Then he nods. “Okay, w-we can try.”

Smiling, you nod and stand up in front of him. “Lay down on the bed.” He obliges, and you take the moment to pull off your sweatshirt. Now simply wearing a tank top and sweat-shorts. Your nipples poke through the thin fabric, instantly grabbing Königs attention. His eyes jumped from your peaks to your eyes over and over before he clears his throat. “So… what now?”

“I want to see what happens when you do it to yourself.”

He stills momentarily, a nervous laugh peeling from him. “I told you…” Embarrassment floods his eyes, as he grows vulnerable before you.

Shrugging, you move to straddle his thighs, just missing his half-hard erection. Or maybe he isn’t hard at all, and is just that big. Who knows. Königs eyes trace your hips around him, his arms glued to his sides. “How can I figure out how to help if I don’t know exactly what the problem is? Unless you don’t want my help?”

Shaking his head, he refuses and quickly assures, “nein, I am happy you want to help. But to do what you ask I need to be… erregt.” You nod and scooched closer until you sit right onto his member. He lets out a huff at your actions before hesitantly lifting his hands to wrap around the sides of your waist. Big and rough, the bare skin seeps warmth into your body. You both move slowly in all your actions, treating this situation as a live science experiment that could potentially blow up in your faces.

Leaning in closer, you carefully pull his hood up just at his nose. He allows you, though his body stiffens slightly. Big blue eyes analyze your face meanwhile, watching how carefully you touch him. With his lips now bare, you stare at them shamelessly, and lick your own. His eyes follow your pink muscle darting out to wet your lips. “Imagine I’m a pretty girl that you want to have sex with, that should help get you… going.” Your eyes meet his for a second before you lean down and meet his lips. It’s gentle, slow, and testing. Though not chapped, his lips feel a lot more rough against yours, scarred skin shifting against your smooth one. His fingers slightly shift up and down against your waist and hips, spreading warmth. Letting out a soft sigh, you pull away.

“You are a pretty girl,” he mumbles. You watch his lips as the words leave, seeing his sharp canines poke out. What he said starts a flutter of softness inside you, your pulse slightly fastening. You feel a bit flustered, so instead of responding you just meet his lips again.

This time, he seems a little more needy. Instead of the slow tempo you had set moments before, he moves faster now. His tongue darts into your mouth to explore, which you allow. Meanwhile, you slide your arms to grab his hands, bringing and placing them onto your clothed breasts. He freezes fully for a second before his hands hesitantly squeeze your flesh. Still connected by mouths, you let out a soft moan. This causes König to squeeze again before simply kneading and toying with your breasts.

Slowly, you start to grind back and forth on him. To stimulate him, but also yourself. With just that one slide of friction, König let out a moan with a buck of his hips. Shit, he wasn’t lying when he said he was sensitive. You move again, pressing down harder against him. Whimpering, he pulls away from your lips to catch air. You freeze, allowing him to calm down. His fingers toy with your nipples through the fabric, pinching and rolling the hard buds. He feels impossibly solid beneath you, so you ask, “you think you’re ready now?”

Quickly, he nods. You stand up and begin to pull down his pants as well as his boxers. As his cock springs out, your eyes grow wide. Thick, long, and wet. With a swollen red tip and pale veined skin, it stands tall before hitting Königs stomach. Clearing your throat in attempt to pull yourself out of your trance, you go back to straddle his thighs. From this position, you can basically see how far into you his dick would go, and it sends butterflies thrashing through you.

”Okay, go on,” you instruct. König obliges, his hand wrapping around himself before you. He already lets out a whine. Fingers squeezing himself tightly while he runs his hand from the tip to base. His legs shift a lot under you, tensing and twitching. With eyes glued to your chest, you decide to go a bit further for him. Slipping out of your tank top, you sit half-naked on him. “Scheiße, so schön, Maus,” he moans.

With his hand pumping himself quickly, he already feels his orgasm building. His body starts to spasm, his back arching, hips bucking, and arms straining. The noises he makes are pathetic, whimpering and sobbing as pleasure engulfs him. “You’re doing so good, keep going,” you encourage. He whines at your words, his mouth resting agape.

“No. Nein—too much,” he moans as he reaches his peak, he suddenly lets go of himself as his body twists and turns. His arms move to grip the bed frame behind him, his knees bend, and he tries to fold himself completely. Sounds of sobbing mixed with whimpering leak out of him while he tries to calm down. Instead of ejaculating like he had needed, more pre-cum spit out of his pulsing tip.

As much as you feel bad, you can’t help but drink in the sight before you. A mammoth of a man whining and moaning because he can’t make himself cum. Instead of relishing your newfound desire, you comfort him. “It’s okay, I’ll help you.”

Finally calm, König stretches out his limbs once again, and meets your eyes. “Please,” he whispers, his pink lips pursing. His hands squeeze at your thighs before running up and down your hips. With big doe eyes staring at you, you smile softly.

Slowly, your hands trace his inner thighs lightly. It causes goosebumps to form on his pale skin, prickled hairs sticking up. “Bitte, no teasing,” he pleads. You shift to sit beside him, rather than on his thighs. “You’re gonna be okay, just let me take care of you,” you soothe before promptly wrapping your hand around his dick. He moans, hands shifting all over to find something to hold before grabbing the pillow under him. “Try not to move so much, I know it’s hard. Just try your best.” He nods, “ja, o-okay.” Gripping the pillow, he lets his head fall back and his eyes screw shut. His body still twitches and shuffles, but not as much. His hips, however, still buck rather wildly.

You run your hand up and down his length, circling your thumb on his tip when you reach it. You didn’t even need any lubrication as he’s been leaking this whole time. “Good boy,” you coo, “you’re doing so well.” You stop moving your hand, instead allowing him to thrust into it on his own. Shuddering and shivering, he whimpers. “Bitte, ich brauche mehr,” he mutters. You watch as his still revealed lips part and his teeth sink down into it. His thrusts grow messy as his legs move frantically and randomly. So, you begin moving your hand again, this time at a much more rapid pace.

König almost screams, a sound of a sob-like moan leaving him instead. His body contorts as if he was trying to pull away from you, fight you. You weren’t planning on stopping, though, eager to give him what he needs. His arms tighten around the pillow while he moans. “Ich kann nicht. Bitte hör auf,” he stammers.

You can tell he’s close now; his eyes rolling back before screwing shut. Lips going from being bit, to licked, to tightened. His whole body twitching, shuddering, and shivering at every passing second. And the sounds he’s making, god, you can practically feel what he is.

You whisper praise after praise into his ear.

”You can do it.” “You’re being so good.” “Such a pretty cock.” “Good boy.”

Finally, you can tell he’s at the same point he was earlier, before he stopped and practically edged himself. His body jolting over and over, trying its hardest to get away from you. Sobs leaking out of him as he begs you to stop. “Es ist zu viel, bitte hör auf. Bitte—Bitte! Too much!”

You sped up, squeezing tighter as you pumped his length. Your other hand reached under to fondle his sack, earning a yelp from him. “Let go. You can do it, it’s okay. Cum for me.”

With eyes rolling back, mouth agape, and arms suffocating his pillow, he obliges. His hips buck up wildly, his back arching, he lets go. “Oh, yeah—Scheiße,” he moans. Rope after rope of hot white fluid spurts out of him. His head thrashes left and right as he rides out his orgasm. When it’s over, he lays still and spent, breathing wild and eyes heavy. His arms loosen and his legs flop down.

You quickly let go of his softening penis, “good boy. You did so well, I’m so proud of you.”

König lets out a sigh and turns his head to you. Softly, he presses his lips against yours. Swollen and warm, they move slowly. Leaning in closer, you hold his jaw in your hands, tracing your thumb back and forth on the scarred skin.

Pulling away, he leaves a kiss on your forehead, lingering. ”Thank you, mein Schatz.”

Diavolo is the demon lord in devildom. He’s regal, well respected, so surely he commands in the bedroom like he commands respect under his rule? WRONG. You have this huge man rutting into your sex with huffs and puffs, so desperate for you, looking at you with those saccharine honey eyes that make your heart absolutely melt. His hands on either side of your head “Please my love..” his voice came out in almost a whimper “I’ve been good, I’ve done all my duties, I didn’t even get in trouble with Barbatos once…” he pleaded. You make a faux thinking face, loving the way he whines for you. “Hmmm okay, you deserve a little treat.” And that’s all he needed to start pounding into you with reckless abandon.

It’s been an HOUR, a whole hour of working up and edging Konig. The poor man is wrecked, but he is so obedient for you so he doesn’t dare move at all, he knows he gets rewarded when he listens to you. But god you were being SO mean. “Bitte-“ he whimpered as his hips buck into your hand. “Just- please let me inside you- Meine Liebe.” Oh how his begging made your stomach flutter. You finally gave him what he deserved. Safe to say he was going to rearrange your guts for the rest of the night.

König’s cheek is pressed against the silky pillow, his arms supporting himself beneath the cushion. His knees wobble with the effort of presenting his lower half to you, exhaustion spiraling around his tension-marked muscles. The constant dipping of your cockhead into his clenched hole causes him to let out a whine, never fully situating inside of him. Mindless strings of curses in his language fall from his lips, one of them nearly a tinge too lustful.

“Please... need it now.” He whimpers, shuffling himself backwards to you.

You sigh out of imitated disappointment, pretending to disapprove of his chafed state. “Can never be grateful, huh?” You chastise, your hands curling around the thick muscle of his hips. A man of his status so desperate for your cock elicits a pleased sigh from you, your length impossibly hardening. Finally, you give in—pushing the half of it in carefully, you gently coax him to lighten up for the stretch to mitigate.

You believe he’s calmed down his own unfulfilled soul, but that thought is quickly put an end to when he drags out a whine.

“No,” König shakes his head, breathless, “put it in, too. Please.”

Right. The toy.

You deliberately roll your hips, the gradual but sure friction laps at his neglected cock, pre-cum continuously beading from the slit. You grab the faux length behind you, one that’s already soaked due to König’s mouth.

“Color?” You ask, rubbing in inattentive patterns into his skin as you feel him tighten in anticipation.

“Green. It’s green, hur—ngh!”

He lets out a moan—one uncharacteristically high-pitched from his throat, a sound that immediately strokes your ego—as you plunge the tip of the dildo alongside your own dick. “You okay?” You don’t move yet, leaning down to offer a soothing kiss to his back. He nods all too eagerly, breathing deeply through his mouth. That’s not what you want. “I need words, K.” Threateningly, you begin to slide out of him.

“Ah, fuck, I’m sorry, schatzi,” König gasps, sensing you unintentionally brushing against his sweet spot, “I’m okay, I’m okay, want you to continue.”

Your cock pulses upon hearing the hint of a needy noise akin to a whimper in the tone of his voice, and with barely any resistance, you inch by inch rock back inside until you’re situated to the hilt. He sputters, trying desperately to keep his legs apart.

He’s met with the blunt prodding of the toy once more, your hand incessantly driving the silicone into him bit by bit. With that, he’s frozen for a moment, forced to bite down on the pillow underneath him and clench and unclench helplessly around the two of you.

“Move,” König abruptly gasps, drool dripping down the corner of his lips, “move, ahnn, move—”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Though, you only move your wrist, thrusting the toy in and out. Confusion writes itself over his features, but it’s quickly replaced with his eyes rolling back as the false length hits his prostate just right.

Glancing downwards where the both of your bodies connect, you have to steel yourself on the bed to not restlessly have him take you then and there. His hole’s nearly thoroughly wrecked—all loose and ready to receive what you give him.

And he is, his hips are already subconsciously rolling back to meet the thrusts of the toy, craving the burn and small gnaws of pain that only you can give him.