diejager - Tumblr blog

[diejager]

About the people coming to yan!Krueger and his darling for advice, you mentioned that they're grateful for the advice. Asking any of you about courtship? Both of you are fond of each other, it's natural to wonder about Krueger's courting (those who are witnesses beg to differ).

Imagine innocent, fresh-faced Chimera members asking you about how Krueger courts you, and you tell them how an innocent person would die the moment Krueger noticed you eyeing any of their belongings, and he gave it to you afterwards.

Since Krueger is often drawn with KorTac members, imagine him telling König how he courted his lover and König refused to believe him, causing Krueger to call you.

It made König feel single and lonely :')

They’re grateful for your advice, but they take it less… serious, they don’t go to such extremes since they’re not as deranged as any of you(mostly Krueger, cuz he’s so open with it that his advices become murder plans while yours seem more mundane).

But when someone asks you about how the other’s courtship, it’s a danger hazard on both sides. Any fresh-faced and green members would be absolutely worried for you and share their terror for Krueger’s murderous tendencies. Whereas people who approach Krueger are left wondering where your allegiance stands and how high you actually stand in the hierarchy of the PMC —doesn’t help that you’re good friends with Nikolai, the founder of Chimera, both “dirty” soldiers finding common grounds.

And Krueger is naturally more aligned to be amicable towards someone who speaks his language, proud to brag about how lucky he is to have you pick him out of every man in the world. He brags about it so often that people who’ve never met you start doubting. What if all he was spouting was ludicrous dreams and ficticious thoughts?

But Krueger isn’t a coward, he’s not afraid and is willing to prove everyone wrong. So, he calls you, face call from his work tablet in the rec room of a KorTac base with König and other friends around him, staring intently at the loading screen. And everyone is left stumped and shocked at your small smile and tender eyes, a sharp contrast to the blood splattered on your cheek and the gurgling voice somewhere off-screen.

No one has doubted Krueger anymore, less they see you - a respected soldier - caked in blood and hissing threats at the dying man behind you while you giggle and smile all too lovingly at Krueger, promising gifts when he returns.

[diejager]

I SWEAR I TRIED TO TAKE MY LUNCH TODAY! I am ashamed to admit that I pretty much stayed glued to my desk doing reports for last week, and at the end I missed the time to go to lunch... by the time I realized it, the shift was over, it was time to clock out for the day. Shame on me :'V

-🌀

REEEE THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH-

Joking, joking, but I understand getting lost in time while working. Happens to everyone. Tell me you at least ate supper? And how was your day at work?

[diejager]

My requests are finally open! My inbox is now open for your most depraved thoughts :)

[diejager]

hhnngrf i know it's been done before already but thinking about pornstar!reader today :(

you had always been faking your moans while shooting but on the day that you were filming with pornstar!simon, the director had to stop the shoot because you just, well, you sounded different.

you don't sound the way you always do—whining, mewling, your moans reverberating from the base of your throat. you used to even croon, stuttered words slipping from your kiss-swollen lips as you sang how good everything felt.

instead all they heard from you today were the quiet rasps of your gasps, hitched breaths, and warbled whimpers that barely got picked up by the mic.

were you sick? did you need to take a break?

of course not.

you haven't felt so good in a while now, if not for ghost. his cock was big, if not short, but it filled you up so well that it rendered you speechless. he was hitting everything, stroking everywhere. ghost was the first to hold you down and fuck you deeply; the first to stuff all of his cock and make you feel every stretch, every thrust. pleasure hummed underneath your skin, spasming along your synapses until your brain was fried in your delirium.

others were able to coax your orgasm with their fingers or their tongues, sure, but ghost had been the first in a while to make you cum just with his cock.

"christ," his voice rumbles somewhere behind you. you startle, whirling to look up at him—his eyes are dark, his lips tugged up in the faintest of smiles.

he pushes your hair away from your sweaty face.

"i knew you doctored y'r voice but who knew that you sound completely different when pleasured, huh?"

he's mocking you, you know, but your eyes stray past his gaze and flit towards his groin, your throat constricting at the sinful image his cock makes underneath a skimpy towel.

god, you want more.

"aren't you just an open book?" ghost trills, giddy. you glance at him again, brows furrowed in your confusion.

he chuckles and bends forward just enough to hover his lips above your ear. then, he whispers, "meet me in my trailer in ten. i need to know what else you've been fakin'."

he kisses your cheek goodbye, leaving you to feel warmth flood into your cheeks and raze through the plane of your spine.

fuck.

[diejager]

This is one of my first times requesting so if I mess anything up please let me know!

I recently encountered the prompt line 'I’m going to ask you how you are and I would like you to answer me honestly.' And my brain has ran WILD with it, If your comfy with it can you do Alejandro or Rudy? Only if your comfy with it! Just delete this ask if you aren't :)

the messier the better anon, nothing in less organised than organised chaos. THE BEST in my opinion. But I’m assuming it’s supposed to be angst and fluff???? Anyway, how about both????

Cw: angst?, fluff, feelings, tell me if I missed any.

He was warm, the spice and sun that clung to his clothes brought comfort to you in soft waves, a slow and gentle wash of his affection and love for someone like you. You couldn’t understand how someone as loved as Alejandro was, could love someone like you, eagerly hold a piece of his heart out without concern for himself, gifting you a space in his welcoming heart. You could almost hear Rudolfo scold you for your thoughts, reminding you that you were important to them, a beating piece of the duo that slowly eased into a trio. 

“Mi cielo, ” Alejandro mumbled, pressing his silken lips on your shoulder, trailing kisses up your neck and grounding you with a strong grip of your hips, rocking you back and forth while he mumbled sweet praises.

You melted in his arms, his pretty, sun-kissed skin and sharp face, his sinful lips and dark eyes, all things that made him so strong and dependable. Your eyes closed tiredly, leaning back against his solid frame, thick arms and chest supporting you when your knees shuddered, weakened by your exhaustion. You wondered what you did to deserve such devotion, such care from respected men: one headstrong and confident leader, and his gentle and quick-witted right-hand. 

“How are you, mi Corazón? ”you blinked when you felt calloused hands hold your limp ones, thumb running over your knuckles and pecking your cheek.

You followed the arm up to a gleeful face, his concerned smile on those pink lips and his warm eyes, the gentle curve of his cheeks and beautiful brows. You tried to smile back, return the courtesy Rudy gave you, to reach from the depth of your being and give him a taste of something you used to fear. You knew he could see the strain on your face, the heavy bags from your fitful sleep and nightmare that haunted your conscience every moment you closed your eyes, but you strived to try for them. 

Lips parting, you rasped out the first words of a familiar reply, the same you always gave— 

“The truth, pro favor, mi Corazón, ” you saw the ache in his chocolate hues, the pained tone of his voice as he locked fingers with you, sturdy and grounding, reminding you that you were in the present and not the past.

“I’m… tired,” you sighed, head bowed forward to lay on his shoulder, nose running up his collar and hiding in his familiar scent. Relaxing further in their shared embrace, nuzzling the scratchy stubble under his jaw, grumbling against his earthy and pepper scent, “But I can’t sleep. They keep waking me up.”

“You could have told us, mi cielo, ” Alejandro cooed, pressing you deeper into Rudy’s arms, knocking his forehead with Rudy’s, “We would have helped you.”

You grumbled a tried: “I know,” that made them both chuckled lightly, “I just.. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You aren’t a bother, ” Rudy swore, his tone a whisper as if it were a secret to keep between you three.

And Alejandro completed it, a promise written in the stars and in the earth, words whispered into your soul and mind: “You never are.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[diejager]

Glad that you are doing good!

I am good, tired but good, thanks for asking. Work has been hectic. Unfortunately, my supervisor presented his resignation letter (I will miss him a lot, really cool guy), so I am taking over the his tasks. I can handle it, but I know between his tasks and mine, I will VERY busy... So, I will have less time to play video games or read fics, I guess that is my only complain lol

-🌀

That’s good to hear! Are you taking over as the next supervisor or are you just temporarily taking over his tasks while they look for another guy to employ? Are you getting paid extra for it or… no? Cuz if you are, just think of it like this: you might have less time to play or read fics, but with the extra money, you can spoil yourself with more games or save a bit more on the side!

But I really wouldn’t know, I’ve only done one or two internships in high school (a program that gives 4 extra credits) and tutored kids in primary school. The only actual work I’ve ever done was working as a secretary for my parents, got paid of course, but that’s all really…

Anyway, hopefully everything goes well with you, remember to drink and eat on time! And take a few breaks here and there, 5 minutes counts too! Take care, yeah?

[diejager]

I don’t really like sending asks but I wanted you to know that like everyone I know (including myself) failed the road test at least once

For me, taking my second test through a driving school helped me pass some I had a lesson right before my test so I was able to learn what to do and get comfortable with my proctor

Wishing you luck on your next test <3

I’m honoured that you sent me this then 🥹 I figured that if I failed, it’d give me a better understanding of the road test since it wasn’t really explained, but now that I do, it’s exactly as you just said! I noted down what I needed to work on (the guy marking me noted everything down on a paper for me, how generous, no?) and I can get comfortable to the model now that I know the car I’m using to take the test.

And thank you! Gotta wait a month before being eligible to take another test!

[diejager]

Joyce, can we have headcanons regarding that sicko bastard known as Jeffrey Hawk aka The Clown? I ADORED that thing u said about him having a dad bod ❤️❤️

*Hands you an ordinary Ultra Ball as a gift*

Oddballer, you’re asking a lot from me, aren’t ya?? That man is just so big and filthy that I’m sure he smells.

The Clown NSFW Headcanon

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, drinking, blood, gore, amputation, clown stuff, manhandling, gas/hazing??, tell me if I missed any.

Once a young and athletic kid, building his body to fit a certain way to help him ease through all the hard labour he did, now it his under a warm layer of fat, thick and heavy, bulging over his belt and breast round and soft. He might’ve had some difficulty to run, ambling or striding across the fields with a slow and taunting skip to his step, menacing while he hit the cork of his bottles and shook his special concoction. It made him all the more terrifying, slow and comfortable in his walk, strategic and strangely familiar with every type of hunt, ears keenly aware of the screams and pants of survivors, hungry for the dopamine those pained sounds gave him —especially yours. 

His special bird, the first he’d every wanted to keep, locked away from the other killers and survivors alike, chained to his carney’s caravan by the ankle, bloody and filthy just to his liking. It brought back memories, favourable ones, his first successful hunt, catching a little robin in his hand, the soft and pretty red plumage picked and broken, but you weren’t something he wanted broken.

He liked the fire in your eyes, the fearful and spiteful glare you sent him when he cornered you in the chosen realm, snarling at him like a feral creature. While he hated doing unnecessary work, abhorred the thought of you losing the flare in your being, taming such a wild cat was rewarding by itself. If he could tame you enough to be able to hold and touch you without too much fight, but keep your temper, it was a win-win in his mind. There was nothing more he hated than a husk, a shell of a broken man to keep as a pet. 

He took brave and foolish alike, young or old, nothing was off the table for him, all he needed was the true part of them, a finger to remember his exploits and victory, throwing away the part he deemed trash —fake. He could smell it from their bodies and figured that the hands - fingers - were the truth, a part that showed the person’s life, deeming it a satisfactory boon for him conquest, but you, all parts of you sang a different story to good ol’ Jeffrey Hawk. A true treasure to keep intact. 

While he would love to keep you to himself, a little bird that would sing to him every day with snapping teeth and kicking feet, he wasn’t as favoured by her as other killers were, almost forgotten to his dirty little corner of the forest in his bloodied and smelly caravan, fingers littering every flat surface and beer bottles stacked or rolling across the floor. If he had such a favour, he would keep you in a comfortable corner, placed over a sullied mattress with blankets stacked over it, keeping you warm while he dressed you in his shirts, all browned and smelling of metallic blood and his musk. 

It was thick and heady, mixing with a scent of alcohol and iron, age-old sweat and dirt. You’d complained about his stink, gagging and choking on the many times he cornered you, pressing himself against you to feel and smell you under his grasp. Nose buried in your hair and arms pulling you to his front, your back arching by the neck against the solid mass of his stomach, soft and pudgy if it wasn’t for his rough clothes scratching your tender skin.

It brought tears to your eyes. Be it from the stench of him and his intoxicating tonics, or his wandering hands, slipping under your shirt until it rode up, removing a piece of protection from his hungry eyes, he loved watching you cry. Call it a recreational hazard from his job, tears and wails were just a part of his duty under The Entity’s guidance, but he simply adored your pretty tears, pearly things rolling down your cheeks and your cute sobs filling his lecherous ears.

You don’t know how much it affected him, the pout when you bit your lower lip in frustration while you struggled against him, the squirming that riled him when he had you in his arms, and your spitfire-like tongue, hurling every insults under the sun at him. It stirred something deep in his guts, a dark pleasure bubbling from his loins, fattening the growing hardness between his leg. He easily got worked up by you, the solitude of his lifestyle and the starvation for any kind of touch led his to drool and hunger for it. 

Your skin against his, soft and beautiful, bending easily under his kneading hands, his rough and bloodied glove as forced you on his lap, seated still to let him lap and suck at your small fingers. His tongue curling around your index, thick and lithe, and suckled in his warm and wet mouth while his tongue felt around, drool running down your wrist. He lost himself in these moments, aroused out of his mind and huffing hot breath against your disgusted face.

He liked your reaction —he liked any reaction you gifted him. He savoured each and every one, your gleeful ones, your sorrowful ones, your frustrated one, and your painful ones. He drank it all up like the drugs and alcohol he found pleasure in, gorging on you like an addict would. You were his new addiction, his new drug and dependence. And he hungered.

[diejager]

Wait wait in your response when you mentioned dark!reader returning yan!Krueger's favors during courtship, I can see one of the gift he loves the most from you is convincing the disapproving higher-ups to look the other way and ensuring that he'll always work with you. That practically shows your approval of him!

Maybe some higher-ups disapproved because Kruegeer's unecessary violence toward civilians increased drastically during his courting. However, you replied that his increased violence towards the enemies lead to successful missions and the decreased amount of injured soldiers. The lives and health of Chimera soldiers are a priority compared to unknown civilians, and Krueger is doing a great job as an operator.

Darling approves of him and managed to influence the morality of some higher-ups, how can he not fall in love?

Efficiency in your line of work in impertinent, so when faced with the choice of losing such efficiency by separating you and Krueger from each other or living with the extreme violence na bloodshed that followed you for the kind of power and quickness they demand, they have no choice but to choose the best option. The one that would favour their productivity and save time and effort. If it means having to send a crew to clean up after a quick 1h job that would usually take a week is all that was needed? The higher ups will dam sure pick the bloodier one.

And Krueger feels over the moon, happier than ever that you’d accepted him, going so far as threatening to leave with him following behind you like a love sick and rabid mutt. It’s the best act of acceptance in his eyes, the dark gleam in yours and the sly and cruel, but subtle curl of your lips when your gazes meet in between. You might not be as open with your affection towards him as he is with yours, but he’d take anything, even pieces as small as a grain of salt.

[diejager]

I am alive!

Hi~ how are you?

-🌀

Hello spiral anon, I’m good and you? It’s glad to see you alive after a while! Hopefully everything’s fine on your end?

[diejager]

im going to focus on exams. i dont know if I'll come again. thank you for everything. i love you 💖

-🎀

Good luck with your exams! I’m sure you’ll pass all of them, and you’re always welcome if you come back.

[diejager]

I bet he has a corruption kink and a virginity kink as well. Let's count his kinks, yeah?

Power play

Rope/bdsm

Corruption kink

Size kink

Sir kink

Daddy kink

Virginity kink

Lingerie related kink

Gagging and choking kink (goes hand in hand with size kink for him :) )

Age gap/difference

Filming/photos (so he can jack off when you're away)

Exhibitionism/public/semi-puvlic sex

what are your thots on sugar daddy-könig? :3 ☀️🌷

könig is so desperate for love and adoration, it's beyond pathetic. he's a total loser, a perverted creep that can't control his slick cock from hardening every time he sees you...

he needs a pretty thing to take care of - to fuck into and use as an outlet for his frustration and anger. he's tired of watching porn, or flicking through porn magazines in the hopes of reaching his hot release... he needs something more realistic - to feel you pulsing around his wet dick, buying you whatever you want as compensation afterwards. (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

he'll fuck you in the changing rooms when you're showing him some new clothes you'd like - or he'll try out some new toys on your pretty cunt, watching you tremble and shake, eyes glistening with delirium and exhaustion, thighs coated in a thin layer of your slick.

sugar daddy-könig likes watching you squirm, whilst he's thigh fucking you in the changing rooms. maintaining eye contact with him through the mirror, your eyes flickering to the tip of his dick rubbing against your swollen clit, and his silver, half-lidded eyes.

probably has a daddy kink, or at least an ownership kink !! will collar you, the collar having his name embroidered on it. he loves watching you pant and heave through desperation, the plug stuffing your tight asshole, keeping his hot load inside...

(feel free to ignore this -- no pressure :33 !!) 💗💗

Taste

Pairing: Sugar dad!König x sugar baby!reader

Cw: SLIGHT DARKFIC, sugar daddy!König, sugar baby!reader, desperate/pervy, possessive behaviour, paid sex, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, creampie, size kink/difference, PinV, anal sex, mirror sex, cunnilingus, fingering, thigh fucking, sex toys, daddy kink, collar, lingerie, age gap (20s/40-50s), tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2.4k Note: I don’t know what you did to me, Orla, but I ended up with over 2k words… I BLAME YOUUUUU

You were in the right place at the right time. That’s what you assumed when your phone buzzed, a rich man - slightly on the older side, probably twice your age - looking for company from a young and desperately broke adult. He wasn’t ugly, or creepy, more so on the giant bear type of man than the pudgy stomach and grey-haired men you were expecting when you signed up to become a sugar baby. It was a desperate act to keep a roof over your head, but you needed the money, especially after seeing the price this man - König, he called himself - was willing to pay. It served to boost your self-esteem and determination when you looked at the amount he deemed you worthy of, feeling happy that you were worth more than a few pennies.

You talked through the app’s chat, got to know each other better before you set up your first escort date and exchanged numbers. It was a flurry of nerves and excitement, to feel so accomplished about yourself but having to meet a total stranger —well, not a complete stranger, you spoke about yourself as much as he did, sharing his work life, his habits, his likes and dislikes and what he would expect of you. Nothing much, fortunately; he was an old, lonely man, married to his work and rarely had any time for any kind of substantial relationship that was worth anyone’s time unless he paid them. 

He was soft spoken when you met up, dressed in dark fatigues and a skin tight shirt that showed off his sculpted arms, thick and sturdy with corded muscles while his stomach bulged out slightly in a soft amount of pudge. It wasn’t a deterrent, rather something you were excited to feel, to lay your head on the soft fat of his body while his carried you around with those strong arms —a fairy tale, you figured, but one you wouldn’t mind dreaming of. 

He complimented you, his blue eyes looking deeper than the clothes you wore or the makeup you put on to impress him, his low rumble praised you for your soft personality, your kind and tender heart that smiled at him with the brightest sincerity he’d ever seen —his words, not yours. Surely, he knew you had dressed to the nines to impress him, to feel worthy of the three thousand dollar he was paying you to meet him for a quick introductory diner. 

He took you to a fancy place, where everything felt so posh, from the lights to wall decorations, from the cloth over the table to the chair you sat on, and even the menu you held seemed, and felt, of velvet and luxury, even without looking at the dishes served. You felt out of place, like a fish out of your little pond, thrust into the wide ocean, but you still ordered, choosing the cheapest dishes you found. Cheapest, that word felt like and overstatement, the cheapest one you found was a steak for sixty-five with all kinds of accompanying plates adding numbers to it, but König waved you off, reassuring you that he had the money to pay, giving the waiter a different list of dishes despite you. 

He was handsy, extremely touchy with you after lunch, a hand of your thigh, a kiss on your nape or a caress on your lower back. König had his hands all over you by the time you reached your little, rundown apartment that he’d complained about not being safe for you, his scarred lips nipping at you and big hands holding you down, grinding you across his lap. Despite your lack of enthusiasm, the wince on your lips and your struggle, he kept rutting, pressing his fattening bulge against the thin gusset of your pantie, starting a hot fire between your leg that you spent the rest of the night trying to relieve yourself of. 

You couldn’t wait to see him again. 

On you second date, König seemed to be more daring, actively trying to rile you up, his hand riding up your thigh, thumbing the fat of your inner thigh, near it’s apex until you squirmed, closing your legs in sheer embarrassment. He took you shopping - Dolce & Gabbana - for pretty little dresses and lingerie to dress you up for him, herding you in with a big hand on your lower back when you gawked and stuttered at the sight of such a big, luxury brand. You were mesmerisedby the vastness of their lingerie option, but was deterred to chose anything after seeing the price for a simple underwear, mumbling to him that he could take you to a simpler shop, somewhere less expensive and gaudy. 

He was adamant, unfortunately; persisting that he wanted to spoil his little baby with all the money he had, it was piling up in his bank account without any spendings. While you picked one or two pair of matching sets, gingerly turning the price tag away to keep the regret from bubbling up, König shadowed you, picking up a few that he liked, his eyes often fleeting back and forth between you and the displays. It all hung from his forearm: bralettes, bustiers, bodysuits, garter belts, and stockings, either lace, nylon, cloth or satin, he had all of every kind for you to try out. 

Pushing you into the biggest changing room they had, he hung the selections from the hooks of the door and walls, his hooded eyes staring at your figure on the mirror. 

“Give me a show, Prinzessin, ” he said, sitting down on the bench with his legs spread wide enough to show the strain of his hard cock against his pants.

You were hesitant, feeling small and so exposed in your skirt and shirt before his heavy eyes, those pretty blues piercing into your whole being, in search or dreaming of something. He might’ve even been undressing you in front of him. Pushing down your slight fear, you unfastened your collar, shredding your shirt off and dropping your skirt, leaving you in your underwear’s before a man you’d met only twice. 

“Zum einibeißn, ” he mumbled lowly, sucking in a sharp breath while he gazed at you dreamily. [So pretty,]

Biting your lower lip in anxiety, you unclasped your bra and shook off your pantie, a shiver rippling through you at the stark vulnerability of your nakedness, letting the man admire and praise you for your soft skin with his palms and lips before he turned you around, showing you the first set he wanted you to try on. He hummed every time you tried something, be it soft lace, gleaming satin or sheer nylon, he showed his appreciation in compliments until he found one that left him breathless, his chest shuddering in laboured pants. 

you almost jumped when he abruptly stood up, pressing himself to your back, arousal dripping from his eyes as much as it poked your spine. His hands wandered up and down your shoulders, rounding you grip your neck like a thick collar, watching you blink through a haze of pleasure. He dropped between your breasts, fingers teasing your belly before it sat comfortably on your mound, curling over it and tapping your covered clit. Your thighs clenched around his hand, back arching against him when he pinched your sensitive nub between his index and thumb, rolling it while you still wore the pair he picked —his top pick of all sets. 

“König-” you gasped, gripping his sturdy arms when your legs shook, knees weak and threatening to fail you where you stood, a victim of your sugar daddy’s treatment, “We- ah- we’re in publi-ic.”

“Then stay quiet, nh?” He shushed you, his lips biting down on your lobe, “Can you do that for me, Prinzessin?”

You nodded, watching your through teary eyes, halfway rolled back as he pushed the stained gusset of the red lace aside, sliding his hard and hot cock —when did he have time to take his cock out? You couldn’t remember with how drunk you were becoming. Was it the heady musk and cologne that clung to him? The smell that drove you as mas as his heavy length pushed against your naked slit, spreading it open with his finger to nudge your pulsing clit with his throbbing head. 

You’d never felt anything as girthy as him, nothing so thick or warm or drooling. His beautiful tip dripped pre like a waterfall, slicking your already wet thighs while he fucked them, sliding back and forth between your legs while you mewled, hands covering you mouth, your body his to handle as he saw fit. His hold would bruise your skin, leaving splotches of black and purples, but at this moment, all that was in your mind was the stuttering pace he kept, his deep growls and low moans in your ears, breaths fogging up the mirror he pressed you against. It was your support and the only spectator to your debauchery, playing out the scene before your eyes and his, something to sear into your minds, eternally imprinted. You’d fuck yourself silly at the memory of it, your small fingers rubbing your clit and stuffing your hungry cunt just to feel like this again. 

“Are you on birth control?” He rushed out, the words slipping through gritted teeth.

You gasped out a short yes, hips bucking back with every thrust, jetting halfway until he stopped, pushing you flat up on the cold mirror, ass perked towards him. He ground out a hiss, jerking the base of his cock when he found the entrance of your drooling cunt, the head stretching you wide to fit him. Your hand rushed down, fingers hastily circling your clit in desperation while he pumped himself, throwing his head back as he came, his warm seed coating your walls in thick and heavy sludge. You crashed down from your high at the first hit of cum, your limbs shaking from the sheer pleasure of your mind blowing orgasm, sweat rolling down your damp skin out of exhaustion and grew slack in his arms. 

It was the best orgasm you’ve ever had. It melted you, turning you into a soft mess of limbs and pants, needing his support to hold you up or you would have crashed on the dirty ground, incoherently mumbling and mewling. This was the best second date you’ve ever been on. You cheerily clung to König’s arms when he paid for everything, a dopey smile curling the edge of your flustered cheeks. 

Your third date went… somewhere. You hadn’t expected him to take you to his home, a quaint house in a quiet neighbourhood, it was safe and secure. No wonder he’d grumbled about the safety of yours when he saw where you lived. His home was an expensive place, high ceilings and marbled floors, a house fit for a rich man, but it was devoid of life, any materialistic indication that it was lived in. The walls naked and bare, the rooms without personality apart from his office, bedroom and bathroom. 

He showed you around before he brought you to his bed, taking the time to undress you and admire the pretty lingerie he bought you, hands teasing your naked skin and kneading the fat that clung to your hips. Today, he took his time unravelling you, plucking petal by petal until you were a whimpering mess under him, solely broken by his hands alone. König knew what he was doing, you could see it in the way he carried himself, soft and tender, yet pushy and demanding, asking and asking for another taste of your slick despite your cries of overstimulation. 

He whispered out every thoughts and dreams he had, everything he planned to do with you while you were choking around his cock. A break he said, to give your little cunt time to recuperate while he expanded your horizon on sex and pleasure. He told you how he wanted to tie you up, spread open for him with a pretty ball gag muffling every cries; that he wanted to stretch that virgin rim of yours around his cock, break you for anyone else and stuff you full of cum, keeping it in with he biggest plug he had; or that he wanted to buy you a collar with his name dangling from a plate, growling with a possessive tone that he wanted to keep you to himself. 

Every dark and dreamy though he had came out in waves, possessive and hungry, demanding for more and more. You were stretched thin, a wet mess on his bedsheets, cunt leaking a white trail of cum down your ass and thighs, splattered everywhere when he shifted your body to his liking. Once with your face buried in his pillow, ass upturned and grinding back; a second on your back, legs pushed to your shoulders , folded in half to take him deep; a third against the vanity of his bathroom, watching your filthy expression break with every slam of hips; and a few more that you couldn’t remember. 

You were wrung dry by the time he was done, mind lost between exhaustion and satisfaction, limbs weak and chest puffing up in rapid breaths. You were too tired to do anything but blink despite having done nothing but take his onslaught of thrusts while he was still up and running, picking you up from the bed after he started a bath. He bathed you, worked the knots out of your back with affirming compliments, reacting to you hums and nods after your voice cracked and died out from screaming daddy all evening. 

He babied you all afternoon, order take out for you in his living room (you were aching too much to sit comfortably on a chair) and took you home, helping you up the stairs. He made sure everything was within reach of your hands before he left, wishing you a good night and locking the door behind him, promising to see you soon. 

You woke up aching and limping the next morning, crawling off your bed and struggling to stand against the walls of your home. Numbly doing your chores and checking you phone for any important notification, choking when you saw the amount König had paid you for last night’s date. Your eyes bulged out of your sockets, a disbelieving laugh slipped from you when you check and double checked if it was right, but he swore that he had paid the right amount: fifteen grand.

You’re worth more than that, Prinzessin, was all he said.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[diejager]

what are your thots on sugar daddy-könig? :3 ☀️🌷

könig is so desperate for love and adoration, it's beyond pathetic. he's a total loser, a perverted creep that can't control his slick cock from hardening every time he sees you...

he needs a pretty thing to take care of - to fuck into and use as an outlet for his frustration and anger. he's tired of watching porn, or flicking through porn magazines in the hopes of reaching his hot release... he needs something more realistic - to feel you pulsing around his wet dick, buying you whatever you want as compensation afterwards. (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

he'll fuck you in the changing rooms when you're showing him some new clothes you'd like - or he'll try out some new toys on your pretty cunt, watching you tremble and shake, eyes glistening with delirium and exhaustion, thighs coated in a thin layer of your slick.

sugar daddy-könig likes watching you squirm, whilst he's thigh fucking you in the changing rooms. maintaining eye contact with him through the mirror, your eyes flickering to the tip of his dick rubbing against your swollen clit, and his silver, half-lidded eyes.

probably has a daddy kink, or at least an ownership kink !! will collar you, the collar having his name embroidered on it. he loves watching you pant and heave through desperation, the plug stuffing your tight asshole, keeping his hot load inside...

(feel free to ignore this -- no pressure :33 !!) 💗💗

Taste

Pairing: Sugar dad!König x sugar baby!reader

Cw: SLIGHT DARKFIC, sugar daddy!König, sugar baby!reader, desperate/pervy, possessive behaviour, paid sex, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, creampie, size kink/difference, PinV, anal sex, mirror sex, cunnilingus, fingering, thigh fucking, sex toys, daddy kink, collar, lingerie, age gap (20s/40-50s), tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2.4k Note: I don’t know what you did to me, Orla, but I ended up with over 2k words… I BLAME YOUUUUU

You were in the right place at the right time. That’s what you assumed when your phone buzzed, a rich man - slightly on the older side, probably twice your age - looking for company from a young and desperately broke adult. He wasn’t ugly, or creepy, more so on the giant bear type of man than the pudgy stomach and grey-haired men you were expecting when you signed up to become a sugar baby. It was a desperate act to keep a roof over your head, but you needed the money, especially after seeing the price this man - König, he called himself - was willing to pay. It served to boost your self-esteem and determination when you looked at the amount he deemed you worthy of, feeling happy that you were worth more than a few pennies.

You talked through the app’s chat, got to know each other better before you set up your first escort date and exchanged numbers. It was a flurry of nerves and excitement, to feel so accomplished about yourself but having to meet a total stranger —well, not a complete stranger, you spoke about yourself as much as he did, sharing his work life, his habits, his likes and dislikes and what he would expect of you. Nothing much, fortunately; he was an old, lonely man, married to his work and rarely had any time for any kind of substantial relationship that was worth anyone’s time unless he paid them. 

He was soft spoken when you met up, dressed in dark fatigues and a skin tight shirt that showed off his sculpted arms, thick and sturdy with corded muscles while his stomach bulged out slightly in a soft amount of pudge. It wasn’t a deterrent, rather something you were excited to feel, to lay your head on the soft fat of his body while his carried you around with those strong arms —a fairy tale, you figured, but one you wouldn’t mind dreaming of. 

He complimented you, his blue eyes looking deeper than the clothes you wore or the makeup you put on to impress him, his low rumble praised you for your soft personality, your kind and tender heart that smiled at him with the brightest sincerity he’d ever seen —his words, not yours. Surely, he knew you had dressed to the nines to impress him, to feel worthy of the three thousand dollar he was paying you to meet him for a quick introductory diner. 

He took you to a fancy place, where everything felt so posh, from the lights to wall decorations, from the cloth over the table to the chair you sat on, and even the menu you held seemed, and felt, of velvet and luxury, even without looking at the dishes served. You felt out of place, like a fish out of your little pond, thrust into the wide ocean, but you still ordered, choosing the cheapest dishes you found. Cheapest, that word felt like and overstatement, the cheapest one you found was a steak for sixty-five with all kinds of accompanying plates adding numbers to it, but König waved you off, reassuring you that he had the money to pay, giving the waiter a different list of dishes despite you. 

He was handsy, extremely touchy with you after lunch, a hand of your thigh, a kiss on your nape or a caress on your lower back. König had his hands all over you by the time you reached your little, rundown apartment that he’d complained about not being safe for you, his scarred lips nipping at you and big hands holding you down, grinding you across his lap. Despite your lack of enthusiasm, the wince on your lips and your struggle, he kept rutting, pressing his fattening bulge against the thin gusset of your pantie, starting a hot fire between your leg that you spent the rest of the night trying to relieve yourself of. 

You couldn’t wait to see him again. 

On you second date, König seemed to be more daring, actively trying to rile you up, his hand riding up your thigh, thumbing the fat of your inner thigh, near it’s apex until you squirmed, closing your legs in sheer embarrassment. He took you shopping - Dolce & Gabbana - for pretty little dresses and lingerie to dress you up for him, herding you in with a big hand on your lower back when you gawked and stuttered at the sight of such a big, luxury brand. You were mesmerised by the vastness of their lingerie option, but was deterred to chose anything after seeing the price for a simple underwear, mumbling to him that he could take you to a simpler shop, somewhere less expensive and gaudy. 

He was adamant, unfortunately; persisting that he wanted to spoil his little baby with all the money he had, it was piling up in his bank account without any spendings. While you picked one or two pair of matching sets, gingerly turning the price tag away to keep the regret from bubbling up, König shadowed you, picking up a few that he liked, his eyes often fleeting back and forth between you and the displays. It all hung from his forearm: bralettes, bustiers, bodysuits, garter belts, and stockings, either lace, nylon, cloth or satin, he had all of every kind for you to try out. 

Pushing you into the biggest changing room they had, he hung the selections from the hooks of the door and walls, his hooded eyes staring at your figure on the mirror. 

“Give me a show, Prinzessin, ” he said, sitting down on the bench with his legs spread wide enough to show the strain of his hard cock against his pants.

You were hesitant, feeling small and so exposed in your skirt and shirt before his heavy eyes, those pretty blues piercing into your whole being, in search or dreaming of something. He might’ve even been undressing you in front of him. Pushing down your slight fear, you unfastened your collar, shredding your shirt off and dropping your skirt, leaving you in your underwear’s before a man you’d met only twice. 

“Zum einibeißn, ” he mumbled lowly, sucking in a sharp breath while he gazed at you dreamily. [So pretty,]

Biting your lower lip in anxiety, you unclasped your bra and shook off your pantie, a shiver rippling through you at the stark vulnerability of your nakedness, letting the man admire and praise you for your soft skin with his palms and lips before he turned you around, showing you the first set he wanted you to try on. He hummed every time you tried something, be it soft lace, gleaming satin or sheer nylon, he showed his appreciation in compliments until he found one that left him breathless, his chest shuddering in laboured pants. 

you almost jumped when he abruptly stood up, pressing himself to your back, arousal dripping from his eyes as much as it poked your spine. His hands wandered up and down your shoulders, rounding you grip your neck like a thick collar, watching you blink through a haze of pleasure. He dropped between your breasts, fingers teasing your belly before it sat comfortably on your mound, curling over it and tapping your covered clit. Your thighs clenched around his hand, back arching against him when he pinched your sensitive nub between his index and thumb, rolling it while you still wore the pair he picked —his top pick of all sets. 

“König-” you gasped, gripping his sturdy arms when your legs shook, knees weak and threatening to fail you where you stood, a victim of your sugar daddy’s treatment, “We- ah- we’re in publi-ic.”

“Then stay quiet, nh?” He shushed you, his lips biting down on your lobe, “Can you do that for me, Prinzessin?”

You nodded, watching your through teary eyes, halfway rolled back as he pushed the stained gusset of the red lace aside, sliding his hard and hot cock —when did he have time to take his cock out? You couldn’t remember with how drunk you were becoming. Was it the heady musk and cologne that clung to him? The smell that drove you as mas as his heavy length pushed against your naked slit, spreading it open with his finger to nudge your pulsing clit with his throbbing head. 

You’d never felt anything as girthy as him, nothing so thick or warm or drooling. His beautiful tip dripped pre like a waterfall, slicking your already wet thighs while he fucked them, sliding back and forth between your legs while you mewled, hands covering you mouth, your body his to handle as he saw fit. His hold would bruise your skin, leaving splotches of black and purples, but at this moment, all that was in your mind was the stuttering pace he kept, his deep growls and low moans in your ears, breaths fogging up the mirror he pressed you against. It was your support and the only spectator to your debauchery, playing out the scene before your eyes and his, something to sear into your minds, eternally imprinted. You’d fuck yourself silly at the memory of it, your small fingers rubbing your clit and stuffing your hungry cunt just to feel like this again. 

“Are you on birth control?” He rushed out, the words slipping through gritted teeth.

You gasped out a short yes, hips bucking back with every thrust, jetting halfway until he stopped, pushing you flat up on the cold mirror, ass perked towards him. He ground out a hiss, jerking the base of his cock when he found the entrance of your drooling cunt, the head stretching you wide to fit him. Your hand rushed down, fingers hastily circling your clit in desperation while he pumped himself, throwing his head back as he came, his warm seed coating your walls in thick and heavy sludge. You crashed down from your high at the first hit of cum, your limbs shaking from the sheer pleasure of your mind blowing orgasm, sweat rolling down your damp skin out of exhaustion and grew slack in his arms. 

It was the best orgasm you’ve ever had. It melted you, turning you into a soft mess of limbs and pants, needing his support to hold you up or you would have crashed on the dirty ground, incoherently mumbling and mewling. This was the best second date you’ve ever been on. You cheerily clung to König’s arms when he paid for everything, a dopey smile curling the edge of your flustered cheeks.

 

Your third date went… somewhere. You hadn’t expected him to take you to his home, a quaint house in a quiet neighbourhood, it was safe and secure. No wonder he’d grumbled about the safety of yours when he saw where you lived. His home was an expensive place, high ceilings and marbled floors, a house fit for a rich man, but it was devoid of life, any materialistic indication that it was lived in. The walls naked and bare, the rooms without personality apart from his office, bedroom and bathroom. 

He showed you around before he brought you to his bed, taking the time to undress you and admire the pretty lingerie he bought you, hands teasing your naked skin and kneading the fat that clung to your hips. Today, he took his time unravelling you, plucking petal by petal until you were a whimpering mess under him, solely broken by his hands alone. König knew what he was doing, you could see it in the way he carried himself, soft and tender, yet pushy and demanding, asking and asking for another taste of your slick despite your cries of overstimulation. 

He whispered out every thoughts and dreams he had, everything he planned to do with you while you were choking around his cock. A break he said, to give your little cunt time to recuperate while he expanded your horizon on sex and pleasure. He told you how he wanted to tie you up, spread open for him with a pretty ball gag muffling every cries; that he wanted to stretch that virgin rim of yours around his cock, break you for anyone else and stuff you full of cum, keeping it in with he biggest plug he had; or that he wanted to buy you a collar with his name dangling from a plate, growling with a possessive tone that he wanted to keep you to himself. 

Every dark and dreamy though he had came out in waves, possessive and hungry, demanding for more and more. You were stretched thin, a wet mess on his bedsheets, cunt leaking a white trail of cum down your ass and thighs, splattered everywhere when he shifted your body to his liking. Once with your face buried in his pillow, ass upturned and grinding back; a second on your back, legs pushed to your shoulders , folded in half to take him deep; a third against the vanity of his bathroom, watching your filthy expression break with every slam of hips; and a few more that you couldn’t remember. 

You were wrung dry by the time he was done, mind lost between exhaustion and satisfaction, limbs weak and chest puffing up in rapid breaths. You were too tired to do anything but blink despite having done nothing but take his onslaught of thrusts while he was still up and running, picking you up from the bed after he started a bath. He bathed you, worked the knots out of your back with affirming compliments, reacting to you hums and nods after your voice cracked and died out from screaming daddy all evening. 

He babied you all afternoon, order take out for you in his living room (you were aching too much to sit comfortably on a chair) and took you home, helping you up the stairs. He made sure everything was within reach of your hands before he left, wishing you a good night and locking the door behind him, promising to see you soon. 

You woke up aching and limping the next morning, crawling off your bed and struggling to stand against the walls of your home. Numbly doing your chores and checking you phone for any important notification, choking when you saw the amount König had paid you for last night’s date. Your eyes bulged out of your sockets, a disbelieving laugh slipped from you when you check and double checked if it was right, but he swore that he had paid the right amount: fifteen grand.

You’re worth more than that, Prinzessin, was all he said.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[diejager]

I tried... shein quality watercolour. It's surprisingly good, and I am also surprised it isn't absolute garbage since I haven't done any watercolour paint in over a year.

[diejager]

I have failed my road test, but!!! Now I know what expect and what to improve in my driving. Plus I figured I'd be less nervous on my second try :)

thanks for everyone's advice!

[diejager]

I'm so Sorry, I had no clue that you do not accept requests in advance and Google translate doesn't do a good job at translating

thank you so much for those lines!!

No worries! And I totally understand the Google translate thing, it's an absolute mayhem to work around. At least it helps with pronunciations.

[diejager]

Heard bout your drivers, dont worry about it! Just get in your most comfy position, mines sitting like a dude with my legs spread and back flush against the seat, and drive like you normally do. Or blast some hard core good af music an hour before hand and trick your mind I to thinking your a bad bitch!

Thank you 🥹

I, ironically, sit like that too, manspread even in the car, am I right??? But uh, I doubt I can blast Bad Omen, Sleep Token or Spiritbox while I do my road test. Maybe some nice Bach or Beethovan, nothing better than the climax of a classic for a turn.

But my worst enemy is the safest thing to do: checking blind spots. I have this horrible habit of just looking through the mirrors 😔