#dadscannons

(18+) König x Reader - Catching Him Getting Off

It takes you far too long to process both your mistake and the sight before you.

Even though you’re stumbling and your vision is blurry, you knew something was up. This was not the room you had left when you went to the bathroom to relieve a bladder so full it threatened to burst. The room you had just left was packed with your teammates, pungent with the smell of alcohol, and flooded with songs you don’t recognize.

This room was almost silent, smelled of musk, and held only one occupant.

Your colonel.

Shirtless.

His impressive, intimidating form sprawled out on a bed he makes look comically small, muscles tight and glistening with sweat. His massive arm bulging to pump what is no doubt the largest cock you have ever seen, at full attention and freed from his sweatpants.

König’s eyes flit to you, so obviously not where you’re supposed to be. While his brow quirks and the pace of his pumps slow, he doesn’t rush to cover himself up or even stop what he’s doing.

When your brain finally catches up, you scramble, shouting desperate apologies and tripping over yourself to leave and slam his door shut behind you.

You do not return to your team. You dart straight to your room, seal yourself away, and pace for the better part of an hour.

You manage to get away with your avoidance for a few days. Hardly lifting your head from the floor and darting away anytime he neared. The burn of his stare is hard to ignore, though. Searing and white hot. But there’s no way you’ll be able to make eye contact with him ever again. Not when you know what his thick cock looks like when glistened with precum and being pleasured by his fist. Not when you’ve already gotten off to the thought of helping him out with his needs by letting him rut into you instead of his hand.

Always blunt and never bashful, he waits until your guard is down before he corners you. He plants his giant hand just in front of your lunch and leans down until you have no choice but to acknowledge him. It’s hard to look at his arm and not picture the muscles you know reside underneath his uniform.

“You don’t have to be so shy around me.”

Losing your favorite black sleep shirt, one that was oversized and softened by hundreds of restful nights. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t upset over something as simple as a stupid shirt, especially one with a few holes and a faded, peeling design. But you’ve had it for so long, and it was the perfect amount of worn-in, it was hard not to be attached.

Oh well.

Imagine your surprise when König has to remove his mask during a mission and you catch glimpse of a familiar, faded, peeling design on the inside of his hood.

König is insatiable.

If you’re with him, prepare for your cunt to be perpetually sore, guaranteed to be abused multiple times a day by a cock you can hardly handle. At almost any given time your panties are steadily soaking with his come, drooling from deep inside your stuffed, ravaged cunt.

He will have you anytime, anywhere. Every surface in your home has been tainted. If he gets the urge, he will not hesitate to bend you over the table, the kitchen sink, the couch, grinding his aching, swollen cock over your ass. Yanking down your panties and freeing himself from his pants to scrub his tip along your slit.

“Need you, Hasi, brauche deine enge Fotze.”

He punctuates his insistent begging with a gentle kiss on the back of your shoulder, circling his cock around your slick entrance.

He doesn’t wait for a response, bullying himself into you, ignoring your sputters and your writhing in his unwavering hold. You can feel the vibration of his low and sinful grunt against your back as his thick cock splits you open and stretches you out.

“Es tut mir leid, mein engel, I need you.”

Maybe he really is sorry, but his sickly sweet purrs aren’t stopping his cock from burrowing further into your aching cunt from behind. His strong arms wrap around you, kneading your plush breasts in his large, hardened hands. Konig’s grunts are right in your ear, between his apologetic kisses and grinds against your tight walls.

“You think you can take all of me, Hasi? Stretched you out so good this morning, ja?”

You don’t bother answering, teeth clenched and knuckles white, unable to focus on anything other than being filled, the instense pressure building between your legs. There’s little you could say to keep him from ravaging you anyway.

Your body is trembling at his mercy, strangled moans and cries on your lips as his massive cock bottoms out. König groans, rutting himself against the hold of your tight little cunt while he slobbers over the back of your shoulder.

“So gut für mich.”

♡ KÖNIG DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡

WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL THEMES

John Price absolutely believes in corporal punishment :(

If you’re acting like a brat, he’ll remedy it by throwing you over his knee, holding you tight while you try and squirm away. Locking you down with a sturdy arm over your waist and a leg slung over the back of your knees as you thrash and throw demands you’re in no position to be making.

“What are you doing?! Stop it!”

“Oh no, sweetheart, you’ve been begging for this.”

He’s not afraid to manhandle you, roughly yanking your pants down to your thighs and bunching your panties up to expose your plush ass to him.

The first open palm strike that lands makes you gasp, intensifying the kicking and writhing in his unforgiving grip. He doesn’t fold, keeping you steady with a rigid hold to give you a matching handprint on the other side.

“It’ll be easier for everyone involved if you just let it happen.”

His hits aren’t too painful, but they are hard enough to leave behind a stinging bite that compounds with each strike. John knows it’s not just about the pain - it’s about the humiliation of being bent over his knee with your pretty panties and ass on display, knowing anyone in the vicinity could very well hear your embarrassing punishment. It’s a clear reminder of who’s in charge and what will happen if you step out of line again - that back talk will not be tolerated, because all you are to him is a little girl who doesn’t know her place.

“Cap-Captain!”

“S’okay. You need this.”

His hardened, experienced palm has no problem navigating your squirms, landing his slaps to the height of your ass without fail, alternating sides to make sure he leaves you with an even burn.

You sputter and squeak hit after hit, the repeated, intimidating crack of flesh-on-flesh echoing throughout his office. The crease of your middle is forced against his thigh and your body lurched forward under the force of each increasingly strict swat. His disciplined and evenly-timed strikes have you braced for the next impact before it even lands. You find yourself fighting the pain instead of him, your hands scratching at his legs and your thighs wriggling to expel the stinging sensation his hands bring.

“There we go, that’s it. No need to fight it. You know you needed it.”

His smacks have steadily turn merciless, the pain of his stern hands much harder to swallow. His pace quickens, giving you less time to recover between the burn of each relentless swat. While you’re choking on your own gasped breaths and the broken high-pitched whines coaxed from your throat, you finally give into him. Submitting to his will and lulled by his rhythmic strikes, your mind gone blank, unable to focus on anything other than the next anticipated bite of his unyielding hands.

Reduced to a drooling, limp, sobbing mess splayed across his thighs, his free hand no longer keeping you from thrashing, but offering soothing rubs on your back as he rounds out his final harsh smacks, each sure to elicit a cry and leave behind a handprint. A tender hand follows his last hit, smoothing over your welted backside while you whimper over his lap.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, you’re all done.”

You can’t find it in your right mind or your trembling limbs to pull yourself up anytime soon, but John forgivingly fixes your panties for you, his careful fingers brushing across your warmed, punished ass before he gently tugs your pants back up. He gives calming, feather-light strokes over your sore backside, waiting patiently for you to find your bearings.

You can’t look at him once you slowly bring yourself to a sit, tears welled in your eyeline and your face just as warm as the evidence of your punishment. When he prompts an embrace, though, you all but throw yourself into his arms, burying your burning face into his chest while he holds you tight in his strong arms. From your hiding spot, his words are just a vibration against your cheek.

“Are you my good girl now?”

When you give a silent nod into his shirt, he hums in approval, tracing his fingers up and down your back until you’ve calmed down. He makes you promise him you’ll behave before he sends you on your way with a gentle pat on your backside and your pride in his reddened palm.

John will pretend he didn’t notice the puddle of arousal that stained your pretty panties after your spanking, so long as you pretend you didn’t notice the strain in his pants that had been flush against your side from the moment he put you over his lap. ♡

John knows what he’s doing.

He’s not an idiot, and he’s certainly not blind to the glow of your cheeks and the way your voice takes on both a stammer and a higher pitch when he’s around. A captain has to be vigilant, and that just so happens to mean he’s observant to the slight shake in your knees, the nervous laughs spilling from your warped lips without caution, the way your fingers fidget in his presence.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered, if he said he didn’t like being the object of your desire.

So he leans into it. Toying with you, entirely under the guise of plausible deniability. Keeping you guessing and fueling your fantasies, giving you hope that maybe, just maybe, your Captain returns your affection. He likes having you wrapped around his finger, and intends to give you just enough hope to keep you there.

Crossing his arms over his chest, watching you carefully as you struggle to keep eye contact, those pretty, shy eyes sneaking glances at his arms.

Lowering his voice and coating it in honey when he calls you Love, Sweetheart, Darling, just to make you falter.

Leaning in far too close when he looks at your screen over your shoulder, until you can nearly feel the heat of his chest on your back, the scent of a burnt cigar and laundry detergent intoxicating you, his voice a low and gravelly vibration in your ear. He’ll pretend he didn’t notice the sharp, squeaky inhale you make that sends blood rushing to his cock.

Approaching you from behind, resting a hand on the small of your back and sliding it off your waist as he turns to talk to you. Reveling in the way your wide eyes stare back at his, basking in the warmth radiating from your cheeks, knowing full well you’re too flustered to pay attention to a word he’s saying.

Oh, you should have seen it - the first time he responded to, “Yes, Sir,” with, “Good Girl.”

Your whole body tensed, a hitched breath catching in the back of your throat. Lips parted to say something, anything, but John broke you, didn’t he? With two little words - halted every thought in that pretty little brain and sent a wave of arousal straight to your panties.

He couldn’t even bite back his smug grin.

“You like being my good girl?”

You’re frozen, a fawn in headlights, shoes glued to the floor and unable to bring yourself to speak, settling on a faint nod instead.

“Then why don’t you bend over your Captain’s desk, Sweetheart?”

Stalker!König leaving you tokens from the people he’s killed for you.

A silver, plain wedding ring, far too big for any of your fingers, once belonged to the superior who dared raise his voice at you.

The air freshener that used to hang from a rearview mirror, a token from the man that honked and whistled at you from his car while you were walking home.

A wristwatch still stained with dried, crusted blood from the man who didn’t respect your undeservingly-polite rejection to the crude request that you get on your knees for him.

König just wants to make sure you know someone is looking out for you. Even if you don’t know who he is yet, his dedication to protecting you is unwavering.

It’s also a warning. If there are men out there you care about, it might be best for you to not let them get too close to you.

You know how jealous your Bärchen gets ♡

What are your thoughts on Loser!König with a cuckold fetish? Who loves being humiliated? Who loves watching his girlfriend get fucked by another man? I'm not too sure if this crosses your boundaries or anything, so don't feel pressured to respond! (⁠T⁠T⁠) ♡

After all, König is a useless virgin, or at least he lacks experience in the bedroom. He can't properly please you or drag an orgasm out of you, because he comes embarrassingly quickly, practically huffing and puffing through his second orgasm while you're wincing at the sheer size of König and the splitting pain between your soft, warm thighs. He barely lasts two minutes – if that at all. He's been deprived of pussy and sex, please understand him, Mauschen!

He gets off knowing that his girlfriend is satisfied, despite the envy and jealousy burning within him, as well as the shame and disgust that follows that he can't properly please you, mainly due to his size and lack of experience. As long as you let him eat you out afterwards and clean up that man's filth using his tongue, then it's alright. Just run your fingers through his tangled hair and let him fall asleep with his throbbing, swollen boner leaking all over you. 🌷

orla i love your beautiful mind also i am SO sorry this took so long <3

(18+) Loser!König x Reader x Ghost - Cuckholding

Even though he’s straining against his boxers, you still have to tie König down to the chair in the corner of the room to prevent him from losing his cool. His fists clenched on the arms of the chair, teeth grit and grinding as he watches Simon bury his cock into you like he owns it.

He might as well, because König certainly isn’t pleasuring you. Hasn’t managed to give you an orgasm once. Skipping crucial warm-up to shove his eager, thick cock into a cunt that’s far too tight and unprepared. Burying his finish into you before the first tear can even well in your eyeline. Maybe the apology he mutters into your skin afterwards is genuine, but it certainly doesn’t lend to correcting his behavior the next time.

“Fuck, that’s it, love.”

Simon’s grunts are restrained and ravenous, deep and gravelly in your ear.

“Just needed someone who knows what they’re doing, yeah?”

Through the blur of each degrading slam into your cunt from behind, you catch sight of König, his half-lidded eyes projecting pure loathing as he watches you bounce on his rival’s cock. Jaw tight at your pathetic, squeaky moans and his thighs rubbing together to release the aching throb in his cock.

“You’re dripping, love. Soaking this fucking cock.”

Simon ends his praise on a grunt, an extra rough series of slams into your plush ass. König is gifted the intoxicating image of your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your hands clawing at the sheet in pleasure for once, a feat he’s yet to achieve.

König’s flushed with jealously, skin burning with envy, watching Simon one-up him with his girlfriend’s pleasure. The stuttered moans that leave you are desperate, entirely succumb to his skilled cock. Rough and brute in the right way. His balls are slapping against your clit at the perfect angle, coaxing whines from your raw throat with each bottom out.

“Feel good, sweetheart?”

“Yes - yes!”

Simon gives a pleased hum, rubbing it in by shooting König a smug stare and cocky grin.

“Your girl is so tight and wet f’me.”

König’s eyes flare, his muscles tight and shaking in rage, teeth threatening to crumble under the pressure.

“Simon - Close! So close!”

“That’s a good girl, love, cum on this cock.”

The cry that leaves you is deafening and stuttered by Simon’s abusive cock bullying your g-spot. Limp and pliant to the strong hands on your hips as the pleasure swallows you whole, a white heat that sends jolts of euphoria from your core to the rest of your useless body.

“Such a good girl,” He coos softly, a sharp contrast to the cruel cock that pounds your sensitive cunt.

“I know it’s been too long.”

You can’t even respond, cock-drunk and strung-out on your bliss. Simon leans down, pressing his firm, warm chest to your back, his lips in your ear.

“Gonna’ fill that pretty cunt.”

His ruthless cock bottoms out with each thrust, his hips a blur and the slap of flesh on flesh echoing throughout the room until he presses himself flush to your ass, cock entirely buried in you with a finish deep into your cunt, filling you with his messy, greedy finish.

He gives three final thrusts to stuff his cum in you, his nails digging into your hips when he finally wavers. His cock is pulsing and twitching, pulling out of your overstimulated cunt before slapping his arousal and cum-soaked cock against your thighs and leaving you with a handprint on your ass cheek.

Simon wipes off his sweat with a towel, tossing it in König’s lap as he heads for the door.

“Better get to cleaning, Lover Boy.”

♡ KÖNIG DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡

Loser!König has a huge thing for panties ♡

He’s always fantasizing about what pair you’re wearing, ignoring your ramblings while he tries to guess the color and cut hiding beneath your clothes. Too busy undressing you in his thoughts and modeling you in different pairs to find it in him to listen to you. Occasionally he can see the outline of them through your pants - he can’t take his eyes away, drooling over the idea of your ass peeking out the bottoms of your pretty panties.

The first time König worked up the courage to steal a pair from your dirty laundry, he could hardly make it back to his bedroom without painting the inside of his underwear from the friction of his jeans alone. Holding them up and fantasizing about what they would look like filled out with your enticing curves. Balling up the fabric and pressing his nose into your panties with a deep, intoxicating inhale of your scent. It takes all of two pumps of his cock before he’s spilling his finish over his hands, the image of you straddling his face clear in his mind.

He picked out a pair just for you - his favorite, a baby pink with a lace trim, a dainty bow on the front. He knows it’s risky, but he threw them in with a load of your laundry anyway, hoping you’d not think twice of it.

Weeks later, he catches a glimpse of you reaching forward, the hem of your shirt rising and the lace trim on the panties he got you peeking out from your waistband. The sight breaks him, his breaths hitched and every muscle in his body locked and twitching as he stains his underwear with his pent-up finish. ♡