Could you do Daddy kink König x fem reader pls 🙏👉👈
Warnings: 18+, Daddy Kink, Dominant König, Breeding Kink, Forced Breeding Kink, Consensual Non-Con/Dub-Con Kink (König would never force himself on you; he loves you very much and everything you do together is explicitly consensual), Somnophilia, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Submissive Reader, Fem Reader, Spanking, Discipline, Punishment, Petnames, Pussy Slapping, Plugging, Sadism, König’s dick is H U G E, Profanity, Fluff, etc.
DADDY KONIG AAAAAAAHHHHHH
Okay, Dom König absolutely has a daddy kink.
And you realised it by accident when you screamed “Daddy!” as he made you cum.
Body riddled with the ebbing of your orgasm, heaving chest flush against König’s, you lolled against him, perfectly oblivious to what you’d unearthed in König.
“What was that, Engel?” König said, panting, twitching, head tilting as he looked down at you.
You could barely talk, nevermind move.
When you didn’t answer, still panting heavily, König took your face in his hand, gripping your jaw, making you wince.
“Don’t test my patience, Engel.” His voice was low and rasping with lust. “I’m sure you don’t want me to pound you again. Not while you’re so…” He pressed his fingers against the bruised, sensitive skin of your lips.
You yelped, back arching, pushing you further into König’s chest.
“I…I called you…” Your gaze fell from his sharp eyes, drifting off to the side, shame obscuring your confidence and rendering you incapable of facing him.
“Go on,” König encouraged. “Say it.”
“Daddy…”
König shivered, his skin breaking out into goosebumps. He sucked in a hiss between his teeth, and, slowly, ground his half-hard cock against your aching flower. You whined. König growled.
“Mmmh, Darling,” his breath shuttered, “such a good girl.”
König rubbed against your clit, making you moan - cry - against him.
“M’gonna fuck you so hard ‘til–”
He groaned, his tip catching your lips. God, so tempting - so inviting.
“‘Til you make me a daddy.”
Expect many thorough breeding sessions after this.
Literally just König filling you until you look and feel like you’re about to burst, only for him to plug you and make you keep his seed inside you.
“Pull it out and I’ll keep going until you actually pop.”
Definitely into somnophilia.
Will wake up at an odd hour of the morning with a raging hard-on and will just feed his length into your pussy, feeling you squeeze him while you sleep.
“Gonna fill you up, Baby,” he’d whisper in your ear, giving a low moan when you shift in your sleep and invite him deeper.
If you wake up during this and tell König to: “Nnng, stop - please, don’t–”
You’re just gonna make him cum harder, draw him to his end quicker.
That being said, he has a slight (massive) dub-con kink.
Also, consensual forced breeding kink.
“N-no! Please, Daddy, I don’t wanna get pregnant–”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” König hissed, his cock bulging in your stomach, his hands pinning your wrists above your head.
“I’ll breed you as much as I like; m’gonna make sure you never leave this house again–” he moaned as he felt himself succumbing to his release, his member twitching. “So beautiful – you’re gonna look so pretty, swollen with my offspring.”
Well, given you actually want to bring a child into the world, of course.
If not, you and König can simply pretend, still indulging König’s daddy kink at every given opportunity.
König refuses to let you refer to him by anything other than ‘Daddy’ when he’s in the mood - failure to do so results in some serious pussy slapping.
Doesn’t matter how sensitive you are; he’s going to make sure you remember to call him Daddy next time.
The same goes for if you start being bratty.
König’s kink is not an invitation for you to start acting fussy.
“Oh, it’s too big?” he said, his eyes wide – mirroring and mocking your expression – inching his cock inside you, stretching you over him.
You whined, scowling, eyes doe and glistening.
“Daddy, it hurts!” you squealed. “Take it out, please–”
“Shh, Princess. Don’t make me angry.” König said, his eyes darkening. “Or I’ll make it hurt more.”
Definitely into discipline and spanking.
Will sometimes do it even if you haven’t warranted it.
Slaps your backside and thighs with his belt, breath quivering when he hears the sound of leather against skin, sees the red marks across your body.
And when a wide-eyed, confused expression crosses your face, he just smiles cruelly down at you.
“Shouldn’t be walking around with that tight little ass if you didn’t want me to hit it.”
In more ways than one *wink*.
Outside of the bedroom, calling König ‘Daddy’ is a proven way to get him to do anything for you.
Just bat your eyelashes at him and say in your softest voice: “Daddyyy, the cookie jar’s too far away; will you get it for me?”
And he’s DONE.
“Of course, Princess. Anything for you.”
He’s just so whipped for you.
Looks at you like you’re the Universe and all its celestial creations.
Tends to your every need, without question or hesitation.
Literally will not rest until all your needs are met and surpassed.
Sit in his lap, PLEASE.
He’ll literally just die in his seat if you do. Regardless of how dominant König’s feeling, he’s still vulnerable to your gentle advances.
And just vulnerable to you, to be honest.
But love will do that to a person, and König, a man whose profession made him think he was forced never to feel love himself, has never wanted to protect something - or someone - more.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)
Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist
AO3 Wattpad
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* = Smut
Care for Him
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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Savior
Surprises
Unrequited Hate
Willing to Wait
Girlfriend for Christmas
!! suggestive (and mini smut) - minors dni; bimbo (fem)!reader has simon wrapped around her pinky (we luv to see it!); the squad’s here too; hinted age difference (30s v. 20s)
when they ask him where you two met, simon always tries his best to tamp down the smile threatening to grace his lips before clearing his throat and answering, "in the ER."
the questions that follow are always repetitive: 'what, why?', 'what happened?', 'how did things even go from there?' the last one is often paraphrased into some other versions, but the sentiment remains – people always get surprised, reduced into awkward stumbling because how could you even segue into a romantic relationship from having met in the ER?
well, simon thinks, it's actually quite fucking simple.
it was three in the morning and simon was in the lobby, waiting to be called in, when he saw you walk in: you clutched your broken heeled shoes in your hands, your beautiful legs were bearing injuries and cuts, and your hair was a wild mess. then, you ambled towards a baffled triage nurse.
"hi!" simon recalls your melodic voice echo, sounding too hyper even when you looked all banged up. "can i use y'r restroom? we got kicked outta the club."
simon was so focused on you that he didn't even notice the pack of girls following behind you, all of them looking just as haggard and bruised up. one of your friends was actually worryingly injured, so it’s no shock when the nurse rushed towards her, slightly panicked and confused before steering your friend away, leaving you there in the lobby.
then, you turned around, frowning at having been ignored, and it gave simon the best vantage point of finally seeing your face. he swears his heart stuttered in his chest, his lungs constricting, because holy shit, you are beautiful.
"then the rest is history," simon ends, pulling you close to him. any closer and you would have ended on his lap – something he preferred, anyway – but johnny continues to stare at the two of you with a slack jaw, his eyes almost bulging out in confusion so simon tries to keep it civil.
you giggle, and simon watches as the rest of the squad snap their eyes on you, as though expecting you to grace them with a better explanation. but simon knows that you probably don't even know what's going on, having been busy tapping away on your phone, your acrylics making distinct clacks as they hit the screen.
"i love the history channel," you singsong, batting your eyelashes as you give them a dimpled smile. "simmy-" simon almost coos at the nickname you gave him, "and i looove watching the penguins."
simon presses a kiss on the top of your head, ignoring the bewildered looks his squad is shooting him.
"that's the 'animal planet', love. not the history channel," simon corrects gently, rubbing his hand down your side.
"oh!" you say, unbothered by your mistake. "okay!"
and that was that.
"what the fuck," simon hears johnny wheeze out only to up making choking noises when kyle elbows him. simon ignores them, choosing to watch as you turn back to your phone, mass-retweeting a series of post made by the magazine catalogue that you've been following.
cute.
---------
"fuck," simon hisses, feeling the sharp edge of the kitchen knife slicing through the first layer of his skin. he watches the blood bead, trickling down his finger, and simon wipes it before it can stain the pristine green – "sage!" you tutted to him once – countertops.
"si?" you ask, padding towards the kitchen at the clamour. he feels you press yourself to his side, your perky tits nuzzling his robust muscles. "what's goin- y'r bleeding!"
he grunts, frowning at himself for having made you worry. he moves to reassure you that he's okay, but you're already tugging him out of the kitchen, your smaller hand wrapped around his thicker wrist.
god, he loves seeing the size difference.
you're wearing his military shirt, the material sliding down your body beautifully, before pooling just above your perky ass. simon unabashedly stares at the way your ass jiggles – hidden underneath the tiniest booty shorts he knows you own – his throat bone dry and his sweats filling up all of a sudden.
he barely realizes that you two are in the bathroom until you're steering him towards the edge of the bathtub before twisting to fish the emergency kit from the floor cabinets. simon almost groans at the perfect shape that your ass makes when you bend over, feeling himself throb with raging desire.
you pull out a pink emergency kit and skitter towards him again, slotting yourself between his spread legs. simon raises his hand – the uninjured one – to grasp at your waist, sliding it down to your hips, before giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"it's nothin' fatal, sweet'art," simon mumbles, thumbing your hipbone as he tries to comfort you.
you're still pouting at him when you say, "sure, i guess. but lemme help you?"
and who is simon to say no to that?
"of course, love."
he lets out a quiet chuckle when you press your glossed lips on his forehead, unbothered even when your lips leave a sticky stamp on his skin.
he watches you disinfect his wound with a strawberry-scented sanitizer before wrapping a pink adhesive bandage around it. his worries about having his open wound disinfected by a glittery sanitizer fade away when you picked his hand up to place a kiss on his now-bandaged finger.
glitter-induced infections no longer matter. not when simon's getting nursed to full health by such a pretty girl.
he licks the back of his teeth, clenching his jaw, and thinks, you deserve a reward, don't you, sweetness?
---------
johnny blanches when he sees the bandage around simon's finger. "LT, what in fuck's name is that?"
his loud voice snags the attention of garrick and their captain who ambled their way towards him upon hearing the commotion. garrick chokes on nothing when he sees the pink bandage that simon's sporting.
"bandage," simon replies, pride heavy in his voice. "from my girl."
johnny whirls and shoots a pointed look towards kyle and john. kyle is the one who breaks the silence.
"…are they safe for use?"
"what's the cat even bandaging?" johnny adds.
simon huffs, flicking his finger up to give the squad a better view. "firstly, this is 'hello kitty'. secondly, you questionin' my girl’s ability to care for me?"
john coughs, looking away, kyle arches a brow at him like the answer should be obvious, and johnny gulps loudly, before mumbling, "...yes."
simon sniffs, unable to blame them. "yeah, well, don't."
the squad is still quiet. waiting.
simon finally gives in and replies, "i checked. they're safe for use."
he rolls his eyes at their dramatic sigh.
"that's good to hear," john says before clapping his hands together once, urging them to disperse.
simon grumbles all the way back to his room.
---------
simon loves his pretty, dumb girlfriend to death.
he loves seeing you dolled up – skimpy dresses made of silk material paired with heels that could honestly stab someone to death. he also loves seeing you in nothing but his ratty jumpers – loose black sweaters stopping just after your crotch and the sleeves falling past your fingers.
but nothing tops seeing you naked and crying for him.
nothing could ever top this – your legs folded close to your chest, your ankles hooked on his shoulders, your pretty make up running as tears trickle from the corners of your eyes and flood your cheeks.
he thrusts his fingers in your cunt again, breathless when it punches out another slick gush of your squirt, drenching you two even more. you squeal, body locking, your hips lifting from the bed. simon has to press down on your belly to keep you stable.
"siii!" you cry out, thrashing on his hold, but simon just kisses your leg as he continues to fuck his fingers in you.
"shh," simon murmurs, feeling so choked up at the sight you make. "one more for me, yeah?"
you moan out a reply, a garbled mixture of 'yes' and his name, before wrapping your hands around his arms, your acrylics digging into his skin. simon doesn't even register the pain, still too caught up at fingering you to feel the way you're clawing him.
still too caught up at how perfect you are for him.
(later, when he checks the mirror and sees the angry red welts, simon purrs at the sight of them. because simon loves being marked by you, doesn't matter how, as long as he has bearings of your pleasure. pleasure he gave you.)
---------
simon receives a video message from you. it’s nothing long or conspicuous, but simon still chokes when he finally gets to watch it.
because in the video, you’re wearing simon’s old varsity shirt on top of your university cheer uniform.
“look!” you chirp, twirling for him. “found this in the closet!”
simon slams his captain’s door open and demands a vacation leave.
---------
the lieutenant has a new tattoo and johnny doesn't know what the actual shit it's supposed to be.
it looks like a wriggly blob of a... cloud? a cotton ball? candy floss?
it was still a somewhat fresh tattoo so simon never truly shows it off – johnny doesn't even know if it's worthy of being shown off – until one night at a bar, simon rolls up the sleeves of his jumper and leans to the squad to point at the blob.
"lookit," he slurs, tipsy and just a touch giddy.
finally, johnny cheers to himself before reaching forward to poke just beside the scribble.
"what's it?"
"mittens," their lieutenant croons, smiling down at his skin like a weirdo.
johnny has seen enough mittens to know that whatever that fucking squiggle is isn't mittens.
"uhm," kyle says, thankfully thinking along the same lines as johnny. "is it?"
"yeah," simon says wistfully, drunken in a lovesick way. "s'my girl's cat. she drew it f'r me."
oh. well, fuck. now that's just too cute.
wait.
"that's a drawing of a cat?" johnny rasps out, choking on his spit before turning to study the tattoo again.
it's still a fucking blob.
christ.
Yes just yes
Strawberry Shortcake Cupcakes
oops! I did it again!
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summary: eustace doesn’t believe that edmund has a girlfriend.
wc: 800
pairings: edmund pevensie x fem!reader
warnings: VERY unedited. also it’s 1am and i just wrote this in a burst of inspiration, so please don’t expect it to be good.
a/n: i don’t really know if this will make sense to anyone lol, i think i wrote it in a confusing way, but hopefully it’s okay. it’s mostly eustace’s pov, i wanted to try something new. also, this exact scenario has been in my head for months now.
“There’s no way he has a girlfriend,” Eustace tells Lucy, barging into the room. She immediately knows who he’s talking about, able to hear Edmund on the phone downstairs, voice softer than it usually is, taking the tone he automatically opts for when he speaks to Y/N.
“Why?” Lucy asks, half-heartedly entertaining her annoying cousin while she thumbs through the pages of her book. Unfortunately for her, Eustace Scrubb brightens at the attention, straightening up and launching into a rather well-thought out spiel.
“First of all, it’s Edmund we’re talking about. He’s awkward, way too hostile and bad-tempered. Not to mention, he’s barely of average height, and his hair? Absolutely ridiculous.”
“Y/N likes it,” Lucy says mildly, earning a scoff from Eustace.
“Y/N.” he says with disbelieving scorn, “As if she actually exists. You expect me to believe that a woman as beautiful and intelligent as you lot claim she is would actually be interested in Edmund? And so interested that she calls and writes to him multiple times a week? Yeah, right. I bet that Ed’s hired an escort to help him forget about how lonely he actually is. Or he’s paying some poor girl to play the part of a caring partner.” Eustace has had many such theories, the more creative ones dealing with blackmail and holding family members hostage, but so far, monetary imbursements seem to be the most likely.
“Sure, Eustace,” Lucy mumbles, having checked out of the conversation a while ago. He shakes his head at her disinterest, convinced that he is right, and leaves the room, muttering to himself disbelievingly.
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