#i'm just cranking these out aren't I

[skyward-floored]

How did Malon get her brand scar? 🥺 (Downfall IAU)

- hero-of-the-wolf

You are so good at poking my brain in just the right way to make me want to write things Wolf (...or Emmie? I just looked at your blog and realize you go by that skhjhsfjkhkld) and I couldn't resist again. writing a little fic was easier than just explaining it all XD

This is set like... further back-ish. Time is probably still alive though, and Twilight and Legend are younger. Aside from that... vague. lol.

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“I’m sure you know why you’re here, Malanya.”

A glare was all Dark got in return from the woman in front of his desk, her hair falling in her face. It was coated in nearly as much dirt and animal hair as the rest of her was, and there was a streak of blood across her cheek. She looked exhausted, and Dark was certain she still had a fair amount of adrenaline coursing through her based on the faint tremble in her limbs, but none of that really concerned him.

“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything in your defense?” he asked after several moments had dragged by.

“You’ve already decided I’m guilty, I don’t see the point,” Malanya finally said, voice short.

“Try me. I’m curious as to why we caught you breaking into a restricted area, and seemingly doing nothing but releasing animals that are government property,” he said, crossing his arms behind his head as he leaned back. “Alone, at that. Unless... those other footprints we found weren’t actually more of your own?”

Some of the color leeched from Malanya’s face, but her expression stayed remarkably level.

“And... it’s strange, too, but some workers seem to be missing after the events of tonight. Let’s see... Romani, I think was one of their names?”

More color gone.

Dark hummed, rather amused by the situation she’d landed herself in. He knew full-well what Malanya’s goal had been on this mission of hers— both goals, in fact. But he enjoyed making her squirm. It was nice to exercise some of the power he’d painstakingly built face-to-face sometimes.

Especially towards the wife of the man he had personal beef with.

Oh if only I could be there to see his face after this.

He'd been trying to catch her or her husband in incriminating circumstances for years now, and she'd practically dropped this in his lap. She'd been sloppy, Dark could only assume because her cousins had been involved, and now he was reaping the rewards.

And the perfect opportunity to show why I shouldn't be crossed.

“Do you have anything to say in your defense now?” he asked, and Malanya regained some of the fire in her eyes.

“I don’t know about missing workers, but I do know you weren’t using those animals for anything except cruelty,” she spat, eyes blazing. “I could hear them crying out every time I went past, and I refused to let them suffer any longer. Do what you want with me, but I don’t regret freeing them.”

“Dangerous words,” Dark said, smirking at her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you want us to punish you.”

Malanya went silent again.

Dark let out a theatrical sigh, and glanced at the guards holding her, then back at her face.

“I think a lesson in obedience is necessary here,” he said in a soft voice. “Though... the punishment has the potential to be lightened, if you decide to tell us about any partners you may have had helping you.”

“There was no one else,” Malanya said smoothly. And Dark almost would have been inclined to believe her if there hadn’t been just enough evidence pointing to the contrary.

But he was willing to be gracious. If this was what she wanted, who was he to deny it to her?

“If you were the sole instigator, that would mean a much harsher punishment,” he said in a low voice. “I’m afraid an action like this is simply something we can’t ignore.”

Malon raised her chin, and looked him in the eye, her blues as fiery as her hair.

“I was the only one involved.”

Dark couldn’t help his chuckle, and he stood, walking around to her side where she couldn’t easily see him. “I see once again why Link married you. You know, your fire is something I’ve always admired, I’ll admit.”

He leaned close to her ear for his next words, and reveled in the way she flinched from his breath on her skin.

“We’ll see what he thinks of the mark this earned you.”

Her eyes went wide, and Dark smirked at the slight hitch in her breath.

“Yes. Normally you’d be imprisoned for a period of time, or sent to a work camp for a while for an action of this caliber, but I think a branding will serve as a much better warning. And reminder, in case the idea of doing this again ever happens to cross your mind. It sends a much stronger message to everyone, don't you think?”

“You don’t have the authorization to carry that out,” she breathed, and Dark grinned.

“No? Didn’t you know? I’ve been promoted again,” he said, watching in delight as her expression fell. “I’m now the head of the entire Department of Superhero Surveillance and Inspection."

He leaned in so close to her face that he was only inches away from Malon’s nose.

“Which means I control your entire life.”

“You won’t keep getting away with this,” she said in a voice so quiet he barely heard it. Her face was definitely pale now, with a glimmer of fear shining in the blue, and even the guards had exchanged glances when Dark had mentioned her punishment.

Which was exactly how he wanted it.

"Nothing's stopped me yet," he smiled in response, and poked her nose, just to see her flinch. "Dismissed. You know where to take her."

Malanya struggled as she was lifted to her feet by the guards, but it was halfhearted, as if she knew it was pointless. That or her exhaustion had finally caught up to her, but Dark didn't care much about which it was as she was dragged away.

He was too busy imaging the look on Link's face when he heard and saw what had happened to his beloved wife.

[ghostoffuturespast]

Being a writer is weird.

[vitospaghetta]

Ok I keep kicking this back and forth so I'm gonna leave it up to a poll just to gauge what you guys think.

I would want to approach this in as non-argumentative a way as possible, with the purpose of course being to clear up misconceptions about their canonicity, as well as to give people a better understanding of how media like this exists alongside their source material.

What I've written here would be the foundation of the post, so there would be some overlap, but it would definitely be more in-depth, using examples from film novelizations and video game novelizations that I personally own, drawing comparisons from film clips or screenplays and corresponding cutscenes.

[vigilaent]

my cat will not stop having asthma attacks so i may be a bit scarce

[hotvintagepoll]

Do you have any opinions on modern (post-1970s) movies that you feel capture the essence (in a good way) of Old Movies?

No, unfortunately. That doesn't mean I don't like modern movies or that modern movies aren't good, but modern movies—and here I'm really using modern to mean post-2010, so contemporary movies—have different standards for pacing, characterization, budget, and production that make it harder (or impossible) to capture some of the magic of old movies. Even when modern movies clearly try to emulate that old-movie feeling—I'm thinking of La La Land, The Artist, The Shape of Water, In the Heights—they play the homage too broadly, or they ignore crucial components that make the original films work.

There's kind of too much to go into here without writing a full essay, but essentially, the Old Hollywood system—ugly, failed beast as she was—made some movies simply more accessible to make, due to the ongoing storage of props, sets, master craftsmen, crew, and onscreen talent that could move from one movie to the next without pause. If you needed a dancer, he was already on staff. If you needed a fancy bed, it was already in the warehouse. That kind of longterm storage is invaluable if you want to crank out movies quickly and cheaply because it saves so much time on individual negotiation and sourcing. Modern production companies have to work out individual contracts for every actor on every film; crew members have to negotiate rental contracts and source pieces from scratch; if you need someone with specialist skills, you have to contract them specially at a high rate, which a lot of small companies can't (or won't) budget to do. There's sand in the wheels where there needn't be any. It's wasteful, and costly, but that's the system modern movies are made with.

Which all means that even if the modern movie system wanted to make a classic movie musical just like the old ones, they couldn't, because the talent isn't already there—it hasn't been trained up enough, and there's not that breadth of knowledge you can only get from people who have been allowed to work in the same department in the same place for decades. Movies like La La Land fail, for me, because they present themselves as descendants of Fred Astaire or Busby Berkley movies, while missing the bit where Fred Astaire was a master of his craft. When you watch Fred Astaire dance—or Moira Shearer, or the Nicholas Brothers, or Ann Miller—you are watching a true artist at work, purposely showcased by the studios because they already have them on contract. Modern movies, on the other hand, tend to take people who already have star talent (as actors) and try to convert them into dancers/singers—or they pull dancers/singers off of Broadway, but then they don't have the star power built in. You end up with lackluster musicals where no one truly knows what they're doing, or they do but they're not built up enough by the studios to sell. And that's me discussing just on-screen talent for musicals—there is a huge loss behind the scenes, as well, for all kinds of movies, where roles that would have been filled by union crew who moved continuously from one job to the next have been swapped for freelance labor who live with immense turnover, financial insecurity, and knowledge loss. You could hand me the budget and I could try to make an old movie, but the industry itself has changed so much it's impossible to recapture that charm of steady, niche talent, the amazing possibilities of bonkers set design, and the ability to take a risk on a smaller movie because the other films being produced by the same studio can help balance the budget.

I've talked way, way too much about all of this! Sorry, I just have a lot of thoughts—and the one above is just one of them; the talent loss and storage issues are only facets of a much bigger problem that extends to how we watch movies today, how we market them, what we expect of them, and what's allowed in them. It's a crying shame because the talent is still there, but times change and so does the industry, for better or for worse. (And, just again to clarify, I don't think modern movies are bad—they're just missing a lot of the juice old movies got to play with, even if there's more talent available than ever before.)

[writersdrug]

Nectar and Bane - Pt. 1

Pairings: Hunter!König x Witch!Reader

Pt. 2

Summary: König is hired to hunt down a pesky witch by a warlock, who paints you as the most evil thing in the past three centuries. With the promise of finding true love (or, the closest thing the warlock can offer: a brainwashed woman who is forced to dote on the hunter), König sets out on his journey. However, you aren't what he was expecting at all, and he develops a newfound obsession with making you become his.

Warnings: dubcon, mentions of rape, manipulation, kidnapping, sex pollen (kinda? If you squint? not really, but better safe than sorry), corruption kink, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of consuming human organs, unrequited pining, angst at the end, death (not for main characters), cowgirl, missionary, mating press, biting, hair pulling, nipple play, power imbalance, handjob, obsessive thoughts and behaviour (please let me know if I missed any!)

Notes: thought I'd try my hand a fantasy au version of cod, or at least of König. This is really long (over 15000 words) so I split it into two parts. The next part is pretty much done, I'm just exhausted and wanted to at least crank out half. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt 2!

ps if anyone has any suggestions or tips on how to make collages or banners for fics, pleeeaseeee lmk

translations at the end

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Watch your every step. From the moment you step foot into those woods, you can’t trust anything you see.

That’s what the sorcerer had drilled into his head before he had begun his journey. He called you dangerous, cunning… “A sneaky, meddling bitch…” he had grumbled over the table in that crowded tavern.

Two small pouches, one of silver, one of gold, sat in between the two patrons on the table. Stains of ale and coffee rings littered the unvarnished wood. The wax of the thick candle had trickled down and formed small, hardened pools at the base – its flame flickered weakly, casting unflattering shadows against the man’s weathered features, and making the portentous hood covering König’s face only that much more ominous.

He'd listened warily as the sorcerer described the witch – you. Tens of centuries old, too much knowledge and too little wisdom to use it sensibly. You take whatever you want by whatever means possible, and your favored method was using your physical assets and the promise of sexual devotion to coerce those within your web to do your bidding. “Sometimes it’s for her personal gain – sometimes, she does it for fun.” The warlock added bitterly. “Akin to a serpent, she winds you into her embrace, and then crushes your bones before she swallows you whole, saving your heart for last.” You’d done it to him, ensnaring him into your alluring trap, before stealing his spellbooks, his potions, his most prized collections… and vanishing into thin air.

An enchantress, König had concluded.

The warlock’s request? “Kill her. And be quick with it. The sooner this earth is rid of that swine, the sooner we can all rest. And, better yet – bring me her eyes! Potent things, witches’ eyes can be – of course, that is if they’re still working. If the bitch has gone blind, don’t waste dulling your dagger. A handful of her hair would do just fine.”

König had killed much worse for much less, and this sounded like it would be on the simpler side of things. A few days’ worth of hunting and a quick, efficient kill – hopefully, one of his easier jobs, although with the way the sorcerer described you, that might not be. He’d dealt with magicians before; up until now, they had been rather boring to hunt – tedious, but nonetheless, boring. Most of the time, they tried to end him with some elaborate incantation in the few seconds remaining of their life after he’d ambushed them. His silver blade would be slicing across their throats before they could utter five syllables. They were always so intent on murdering their victims slowly and in a flashy manner. With König’s preference for a more immediate result, he was usually the one collecting the fingernails, teeth, and tongues.

(Over time, he’d had noticed that it was always sorcerers ordering the assassination of other sorcerers. He wondered why they had so much of an issue amongst themselves, but he didn’t question it. Whatever kept him fed and paid for his room, he would do it.)

The picture the warlock was painting of you, however, made you seem much craftier and more calculated. You couldn’t resist the glamorous ways of murder via magic – it was written in your nature as a witch. But you played the game with your charisma and wit, too; something magic users didn’t typically rely on (half of the time, because they weren’t charismatic, nor witty). You waited until your assailant would fall to your wicked charm, before dissecting him like nothing more than a toad for your cauldron. If not an easy kill, you at least sounded like you would be an exciting one – but König knew he could get something more from this client for killing you.

“What more can you offer me?” he asked.

The warlock chuckled. “The gold is insufficient, is it?” he leaned forward and hunched his shoulders, speaking in a hushed tone. “Tell me, what do you desire? Recognition and respect? Revenge against someone who’s crossed you? To bring back a loved one from the dead? Or, perhaps, to find a love of your own?”

König’s shoulders tensed, and the rest of the warlock’s utterances fell on deaf ears. Could he possibly give him a chance to find himself someone to love? Someone that he and only he can worship? It was true that he would be happier to live alone, in whatever way that would allow him to be independent of society… but the thought of being able to live alone with someone, someone who was devoted to him, someone who could decorate his hut with signs of life and warmth, someone with a kind smile and a sweet voice, someone who he could spend hours upon hours with, memorizing each curve of their body, the taste of their nectar on his tongue…

He called it love. Others would call him insane. He’d heard it all before – how no one would ever love him, given his profession, his awkwardness in carrying a conversation about anything normal other than how sharp his knives are, and how he uses them… that, and the fact that he never shows his face (“He must be hideous under there…” they would speculate). Nonetheless, he still craved the devotion of an obedient, warm body waiting for him in his cabin at the end of the day – once he did get a cabin. Why should he be denied what everyone else wants?

He knew he was a hypocrite; he couldn’t expect someone else to be so willing to leave everything and run away with him. Not with his insane ideations and obsessions – hell, not with who he was as a person. But if he killed enough healthy rabbits to keep her fed, and if he fucked her hard enough that her eyes rolled back into her head and she couldn’t muster enough strength to escape the mattress… would she ever care about what kind of man he was?

The warlock smiled slowly. “Of course… that’s what all of you sick bastards want.” He said, leaning back and folding his arms. “If it will seal our contract, I will give you whichever woman you choose. I’ll make her yours, and only yours, with unconditional love – even for your damned soul.”

A fair deal, König had thought. Which is exactly what had him currently trudging through the dense woods, searching for any traces of a witch – a sack with two loaves of bread and some apples hung over his shoulder, along with his well-worn tashka stuffed with the coin he had earned over time. His sword was strapped to his hip in its sheath, his dagger (a short sword, when it was compared to the average person) stuffed into the lead-lined, deerskin sheath on the side of his boot; and a pelt, heavy and thick, hung around his shoulders. All he had to his name.

König had done a day of research on you – testimonies and sightings of you ghosting the perimeter of the woods at an early age, hoping to lure some poor soul away as your very first victim. “I imagine she was a succubus in her previous life,” the warlock had spoken, “maybe too much of a whore for even the devil to handle.”

He had caught you one night by luring you to his cabin with the scent of a savory meal. Guessing by your inexperience, and the way you avoided using words as you snarled and thrashed in the warlock’s grip, he assumed you had not yet reached one hundred years old. You were still young and fresh-faced, appearing no more than twenty to human eyes. “After a few decent meals, and reintroducing her to the work of her past life – she’d settled in as the perfect student. It almost felt like having a pet.” He added with a smug smile.

König questioned how happy you were with being reintroduced to the work of your past, but he didn’t comment on it.

After living with the warlock as his student and whore for a few centuries, you turned into a strong, young witch. You didn’t care to go into town, preferring to stay at the cabin and watch over the brews whenever he had to make deliveries or run to the shops. The warlock had no complaints about your desire to stay holed up in his home – fewer people to ogle at you, fewer glimpses into a more civilized life that might tempt you to run away. He’d much rather you be a brooding, antisocial bitch, than watch one of his clients stare at you with a yellowed, lustful grin, like you were some harlot in the window of a brothel.

On one particular day, without any indication of what you were planning, he had returned home from his rounds to an empty cabin – not just empty of you, but of his potion stock, his rarest ingredients, and his most prized spellbooks. He’d run into the woods in fury, screeching your name and hurling threats into the trees around him – but you were gone. Not a trace of you could be found within a five mile radius of his home.

It was like you had never been there, save the absence of his personal belongings.

In König’s opinion, you didn’t strike him as an extremely dangerous individual. Sure, the warlock had harped on and on about how cunning and deceiving you were – but all you had done was lie to him. And from the way he had described the conditions you were under, König didn’t exactly blame you for running away. Maybe this job was a waste of his time…

Still, he couldn’t find it in him to complain, despite the nip of the mid-autumn air, and the fact that he was embarking on what might be one of the most treacherous endeavors of his career. He was getting a decent payout for it – that is, if he lived to finish the job. Additionally, the scenery was a comfort to his journey; wiry birch trees stood high and thickly clustered, their brown and black spots like ever-watchful eyes, staring at the gargantuan hunter as he moved. Their golden leaves mimicked the light of the sun, the real thing blocked out by the overcast skies. A whisper of wind flew by his ears, carrying down and blowing the leaves further along his path with a gentle sigh. As if nature herself was telling the world to be quiet, be still, and prepare for winter.

It was times like this where König became unsure of himself. What if he hated having someone else to care for? What if, deep down, he preferred the silence and the solitude? But then, the loneliness would strike him. The longing to be understood (if that was humanely possible), and the desire to have something warm, alive, and sentient to acknowledge him. It consumed him on those sleepless nights, perfectly warm by the hearth of whatever inn he resided at, yet so hollow without having someone to wrap his arms around.

A swaying movement in the branches above pulled him from his thoughts. Hanging down by a twine thread, tied to one of the spindling birch branches, was a tiny, burlap pouch. It reached a few feet above König’s head, and was drenched in a dark, thick liquid that dripped rhythmically onto the forest floor. Looking to where the drops landed, he noticed the matter on the ground was decaying – a steaming pile of rot was all that was left of the leaves that were once there.

He frowned. The trap was clever – for a witch in their first century. König had expected something a bit more dangerous for someone your age. Maybe the last hunter had been too gullible, and you stereotyped them to all be oafs. Or, maybe you were too old and couldn’t craft traps with the same skill and precision as your younger self.

He drew his dagger from his boot and quickly sliced the twine thread. The pouch dropped to the floor with a squelch, landing in the very puddle of death it had created. The liquid beneath it bubbled and hissed, and the bag soon dissolved to reveal its contents: bits of bone – a kind of reptilian foot, from the looks of it – dried pomegranate seeds, and a fuzzy layer of mold, all appearing to be drenched in some kind of blood.

He carefully stepped around the stinking mess, his eyes turning back onto the path to continue his hunt. He both hoped for and against finding more evidence of your existence. He wanted to get back to town as soon as he could, so he could hole himself up in an inn until his money began to run out – all the same, his mind craved a puzzle and a chase. Though, with how old you were, he doubted there would be much of a chase.

More leaking, swaying hex bags hung from branches as he trudged on, pointing him in the right direction. He didn’t bother to quiet the sound of the leaves beneath his footsteps – the rustling of the wind through the foliage was doing the job well enough. He held onto his dagger tightly, his other hand on his longsword, as he carefully toed through the dense forest. He had to be close – the smell of fennel and turmeric settled around his presence, along with the babbling of a nearby stream.

The sound of a distant tune danced through the trees. The voice was soft, yet clear, and whoever it belonged too was much too confident that they were alone in these woods. König wondered if it was actually you, and not some poor soul who had been foraging for the autumn mushrooms and berries – but he was nearly a day’s trek into the forest. No one would dare come out this far, unless they wanted to be alone. And, they were potentially hiding from something; their own past, perhaps.

He cautiously followed the sound of the tune, still disguising the sound of his own steps within the rustling leaves and wind. His heart thrummed with both uncertainty and excitement; he always did get too thrilled at the idea of a struggle and blood covering his hands. He took a deep breath in through his nostrils, focusing his attention on the voice that carried through the trees, pulling him closer and closer… He gripped his dagger tightly as he crept, reminding himself of the warlock’s warning: cunning, sneaky – be on your best wits.

The voice brought him to the edge of a clearing. The birch trees parted and encircled a few meters of earth, and a few bushes huddled along the far edge, dotted with purplish berries and thorned branches. A wicker basket, woven clumsily and rather lopsided, sat on the ground and caught each berry and branch that was tossed into it. A figure knelt in front of the bushes, carefully plucking the berries with thin, delicate fingers, stained purple from the juice of the berries, and nails that might need a trim soon, unless they were intended to be claws.

The cloaked figure confused König. The voice was too melodic, too clear and fresh for an old witch. He had assumed you weren’t much younger than the warlock, but still old. He remained a few yards away from you, shrouded by the trees and dense foliage outside of the clearing.

It was when you turned your head, dropping your handful of berries into the basket, revealing your face, that he realized how wrong he had been in his assumption.

Your skin was soft, he could tell even with the distance between the two of you. Your lips delicately moved as you sang your tune, your eyes sparkled in contrast to the dull autumn colors that surrounded you. Small wisps of your hair danced around your cheeks as the wind caressed it. Your entire body looked soft, warm, and pliable… exactly what he needed. Craved.

It wasn’t hard for him to imagine it: leaves tangling into your hair as he pressed his fingers around your neck, pushing you to the cold ground and watching as you gasped for air. He’d use his knife, but not to kill you. He’d drag it over your hardened nipples, watching them perk up even more at the prickling sensation, before he’d carve his name into your stomach. Smear your pretty blood all over your pretty face, watch as your eyes widen with horror, as you question how someone can be so deranged and cruel, how he can take so much pleasure in something so vile and horrible-

Or maybe, he could convince you that he just wants a fuck. You looked like you could use one – when was the last time you’d had someone’s lips on your breasts, or their cock in your cunt? It had certainly been too long for him… he couldn’t imagine how long you had gone without being thoroughly ravaged, living in these woods all alone. He could take care of that. He could be gentle, for a little while; holding your wrists above your head as he pushed you against a tree, whispering praise and encouragements into your ear, “… so gut, so Schön, genau so…” taking you from behind as your nipples perked up from the rough texture of the bark, listening to you whine and moan in that sweet voice of yours as he lets out months’ worth of pent up frustration by thrusting his cock into your warm pussy, over and over and over until you scream and tighten around his length, milking the cum right out of him as he fucks you deep, maybe sinking his teeth into the junction of your neck-

He growled quietly, palming his rapidly-growing erection as he tried to clear his head. Stay focused. Kill the witch, and then you’ll get what you want.

Remember the warlock’s promise.

Even if he didn’t need you to satisfy his needs, he could still make this interesting. Not like you could outrun him, anyway.

He stepped into the clearing, and as if by some ironic joke, the wind died down immediately. The crunch of his heavy boots was enough to make his presence known to any living thing within a mile radius.

Your singing stopped. You whipped your head in his direction, and immediately a look of fear fell upon your face. For a moment, the two of you were frozen in a staring contest. You reminded him of a doe, staring at the crossbow of the hunter you had noticed, wondering if this being was actually dangerous, or nothing you needed to worry about. He wondered what he must remind you of, and he wished to hear the panicking thoughts flitting through your mind.

Finally, you broke the trance – you gasped, stumbling backwards and awkwardly standing as you ripped a pathetic, little knife from your boot. You faced him and pointed the knife at him – you held it improperly, and if he truly wanted to make this messy, he could easily make you stab yourself in a struggle. He wondered what it would feel like when your nails dug into his rough skin, dragging marks down his forearms (or his back, if he played his cards right).

You pulled the thick cloak tighter around your body – you were tiny. Well, everything was tiny compared to König. But you were unexpectedly small. With the way the sorcerer had described you, he had expected you to reach his shoulders at least. But there you were, craning your neck to look up at him with fearful, owlish eyes.

“State your business!” You demanded, your voice cracking slightly.

König chuckled in response. You really were too pathetic for your own good, weren’t you? He took you in – your lips were pulled into a frown, parted slightly to reveal your perfect teeth, the way the fabric of your cloak quivered where it bunched in your fist… perfectly ordinary things that ordinary people do. But, besides the fact that you were a witch, something about you made it all so captivating.

“Hey!” you shouted, bringing his eyes back to your gaze. Your fear had given way to a judgmental ire. “Gods, have you ever seen a woman before?!”

König scoffed. “Woman? Yes, of course. I’ve seen witches, too. None as young as you, however.”

Your eyes widened in panic once again. You stretched your knife out towards him as he stalked over to where you stood. “S-stay back! I’ll kill you!”

Your meek threat didn’t slow him down. He continued his advance until he had corralled you against a tree, your one hand bracing against the trunk behind you, and the other holding the knife under his ribcage. The only thing between his flesh and your blade was his linen tunic, which wouldn’t do much to protect him should you decide to stab him – but were you capable of that? Your eyes were so filled with fear as they stared at him, your chin to the sky to take all of him in. Your fingers trembled around the handle of your knife as if the prospect of having to nick him made you uneasy.

“Not with magic?” he asked, his eyes flitting to the bush next to you. He plucked one of the berries between his thick, gloved fingers, rolling the onyx sphere between his thumb and middle finger before squashing it.

You pouted (a sight König could never grow tired of). “I’m not a wi-“

He snatched your forearm, and you yelped, dropping the knife to the forest floor. His fingers easily wrapped around you; he wondered how easy it would be to break it.

“Don’t lie, now.” He ordered, his eyes narrowing with a hint of annoyance. “You’re not good at it.”

He released your arms with a shove. You scrambled back with a fearful expression, swiping the blade from the ground. He watched with interest as you stood several yards away from him, pointing your weapon towards him once again.

“Fine.” You said, holding yourself a bit taller. “You’re right. What’s the crime in that?”

For a moment, König was lost. Why weren’t you trying to weaponize your magic? It was almost as if you had forgotten you weren’t a human. For someone who was supposed to be a cunning bitch, as the warlock had put it, you weren’t very smart.

“I’m not here for justice.” He replied, wiping his glove on his shirt. “Just doing my job.”

“Hunter?” you asked.

He extended his arms – gods, he could have crushed a pillar between those arms – as if presenting himself to you. “Was it not obvious?” he asked, and you could hear the smirk in his tone.

You huffed. “Well, you’re not a very good one. Most hunters don’t make conversation with their prey.”

Prey. He liked that you understood your position, that he was the one in charge here. Maybe you were a clever girl…

“I like to listen to the begging.”

“Begging?”

“For your life.” König folded his arms over his chest, inspecting you closely. The only thing you had to protect yourself was your cloak, and that hardly provided a shield against the wind. Even though you were obviously wary of him, it wasn’t wary enough. You had spoken too many words with the hunter, and had it been anyone else, you might have been dead long before now.

You seemed malleable – book-smart and spitfire, yet all too gullible. Easily manipulated. Just what he needed to brainwash you into loving him. Or, at least, being his pet. You’d never truly love him, he had come to learn that from experience. But maybe, if he could somehow convince you that you needed a big, scary man, who could protect you and fuck you nicely, it would be enough to make you stay. After all, you were too naïve to be alone out here, weren’t you?

Could the warlock perhaps make you his prize? It’d kill two birds with one stone, he could convince you to return whatever knickknacks you had stolen, and your presence would never bother anyone ever again – besides him, but of course, it would never be a bother to bed you every night.

Your expression turned sour. “I don’t beg.”

The tone of your voice sent a shiver down his cock. He’d have to pound that little attitude right out of you.

“Who hired you?” You asked indignantly. The knife in your hand had slowly lowered, now pointing at his feet. Your initial fear seemed to have worn off. Were you brave, or just that stupid?

“It doesn’t matter.” König replied.

“It does to me.”

“You don’t know? How many people have you wronged?”

You scoffed. “I haven’t wronged anyone. People just don’t like it when you call them out on their atrocities.”

König hummed. You had a point. “Your teacher – the warlock.”

For a moment, you scrunched your face in disgust. Teacher. Only a fool as mad as the warlock himself could consider he was any such figure in your life, other than a torturous one. Then, you sighed, shoulders slumping defeatedly, the knife now aimed straight at the forest floor. “That old toad can’t even kill me himself…” you muttered. “What payment did he offer you?”

“He promised me anything I desired of your possessions.” König replied, taking note of the change in your presence. He purposely left out the warlock’s promise to find him a “companion.”

“And what would you do with cursed fig seeds, or stag’s blood?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest (which, König noted, framed your breasts perfectly). “I have no gold – not enough to be a reward for the trouble of killing me.”

“He gave me three hundred gold coin, too.”

Your lips turned down into a scowl. “That’s all?! That absolute hypocrite!” You lodged your knife into the tree behind you and placed your hands on your hips. “I took everything from him, save that disgusting old shed he called home, and that’s all he’ll pay to kill me?!”

Your outburst pulled König from his obsessive staring. “You’re… insulted?”

You turned back to him and huffed. “Well, obviously.” You retorted. “I stole all he had to his name, and he treats me like a fly buzzing in his ear. I deserve a bit more recognition than three hundred gold coin.”

“You admit to it, then.” König said, stepping closer. You appeared to be too angry to notice how near the hunter was to you. “You are a thief.”

You laughed – a sound that König did not expect to be so sweet. “I’ve done much worse than thieving, mind you.” You shook your head. “And he’s done even worse to me.” You sighed, pulling the dagger from the tree trunk and sheathing it back into your boot.

Once again, he was reminded of how small you were. Why weren’t you afraid of him? Sure, you had the advantage of magic while he did not, but you weren’t even acting defensively anymore. You treated him like a traveler who had stumbled across your path, starting up conversation and sharing your story.

“What has he done?” he asked, his interest in you growing by the second. An outcast, despised, hated by others. He felt that the two of you were kindred spirits, and he would not risk losing a connection so rare – one he had never felt.

“You mean he didn’t even tell you?” you said, sounding more hurt than anything else.

“He did.” König sheathed his own dagger as a peace offering. “But I’m coming to think he was not entirely truthful.”

You sighed, looking down at your basket, then back at König. “I suppose I could tell you, since he brought you all this way to kill me. Walk with me – but keep your dagger away. And if you try anything, I’ll slit your throat. Understood?”

He suppressed the urge to laugh. Could you even reach his throat? “The warlock said you would lure me away to your hut, and carve out my heart.”

You huffed disappointedly, walking back to the bush near König. Completely calm, like he had only ever come up to you with the intention of finding a friend. “And yet, he’s still alive, after all the chances I had to kill him. We can stay outside of my hut, if it eases your mind. I’ll let you make your own tea, too. But if you aren’t set on killing me right this minute, I really should return to start drying these out.” You held up your basket. “Before too much time passes, and I can no longer use them.”

König had never given his prey more than a few moments to try and beg their way out of his crushing hands. He couldn’t believe he had even given so much lenience to your baseless trust in him – what he should have done was take the opportunity to grab your face and snap your neck. But he was starting to doubt the warlock’s testimony; you were a thief, yes, but had you really committed any crime? Or were you simply just taking the revenge you deserved from your captor – or, as the warlock called himself, your master?

König sighed. He gestured his hand out, signaling for you to lead the way.

You frowned. “First, give me your word.” You demanded.

“I will not harm you.” He said, with a hand over his heart. He didn’t care about forcing you to make the same promise – you were harmless enough. He did, however, make sure to avoid saying that he wouldn’t touch you. Although he was developing a few ounces more of respect for you, who knows? Maybe you would find a reason to drag him into your hut and satisfy both of your needs – and, if he was lucky enough to get that far, maybe you’d offer for him to spend the night in a warm bed, and he could be saved from sleeping on the cold earth for one night.

His word seemed promising enough to you. Threading your arm through the handle of the basket, you began marching through the woods, watching the ground carefully as you stepped over roots and twigs.

König followed by your side, watching you from the corner of his eye. You really were helpless – all it would take is a strong push from him, and you’d be tumbling down, maybe hitting your head on a stone, or rolling down the mountainside until your neck snapped. Even if the fall didn’t kill you, he could easily land one hit to your chest and pierce your lungs with your own ribs. But here you were, worrying more about the uneven forest floor than the lumbering creature by your side.

“What did he tell you?” you asked, pulling him from his fantasies. “About the beginning, when he took me.”

König laughed in pity. “He made it sound like he caught you, not that he took you.”

You sighed. “He didn’t catch me… well, I suppose he did. More like how animals are caught.” You adjusted your grip on the basket, still watching the ground beneath you. “I was the botanist’s assistant before he came along. Stared at me like I was naked. He would come more often than he needed to -  asked me where I was from, who my father was – things I didn’t understand why he needed to know. I still don’t.”

König didn’t understand himself. He continued to listen, the sounds of his footsteps drowning out your quiet ones. He began to wonder just how much of the warlock’s testimony was true.

“He came to the shop one night.” You continued to recount the story. “I was lighting the lanterns in the greenhouse. It was storming, and I didn’t hear him. He bludgeoned me and dragged me into the streets like I was some sort of animal.” You paused, turning your own words over in your head. “I suppose I was, to him.

He brought me back to his cabin – that’s when he started the curse. All I remember when waking up is feeling sick. I tried to stand, but it- everything felt heavy, like I was stuck in mud. I managed to crawl outside, and he was there. Saying my father wouldn’t recognize me, that he had killed the old lady at the botanist, that everyone would think that I had killed her… that I would be burned if I returned to the village. That I would forever be an outcast as long as I lived – as a witch. As what he made me.”

You paused again, for longer this time. König looked down at you, observing how your face twisted in… disgust? Anger? Your eyes were somewhere else, possibly somewhere where you could light the world on fire, drain the life from everyone who had ever done you wrong. König had felt that same hatred before, and he had learned to let it pass. You were still stuck there, wishing you could drive a blade into the warlock’s neck – and more.

“You stayed, then?” König asked, returning his gaze to the trees before him. “Why?”

You scoffed. “It’s not like I could go anywhere, not during the change. For the first fortnight, I couldn’t do anything but crawl on the ground and wail. And he let me – I’d get to the edge of the woods, and he’d be there to drag me back. Drug me into the hut at night and held me, fucked me, saying he was protecting me and similar bullshit. Of course, he was right; at that moment, I was as good as dead if I had ventured out on my own. And once I’d gotten my strength back, I was still a new witch. I’d never be accepted into the village – witches never are, despite the warlocks being the vile ones – and I had no idea how to live as one. So I relied on him for a while, until I knew enough to make it out on my own.”

König hummed in thought. Despite the initial desire to snatch you himself and have his way with you, his fists clenched at the thought of you being dragged around by the warlock. This life wasn’t one you had chosen, and yet the very person who had forced it upon you was killing you for it. It made something within him boil, something deep and buried, that he had thought had been tucked away for good.

You didn’t deserve any of this. He was fighting with himself in that moment, but the desire to show you what you should have been given was consuming him. He wanted to tell you that he knew what it was to be an outcast, he knew what it was like to feel lonely and crave being alone at the same time. To wish that you had the power to hurt anyone you deemed deserving of it, yet to have that someone who would never hurt you.

He would do it. He would be that person for you, he would be the one to kill for you. He knew he was getting ahead of himself – after all, he was hired to kill, you, not fall for you. And he knew it was just another one of his delusional fantasies… but he couldn’t help himself. You were like him, which was something that he had not yet been able to find. Something primal in him told him to sink his teeth in, to hold onto you until you stopped your struggling and realized that this would be good, for the both of you.

He was insane. But did it matter what he was, as long as he could give you what you needed?

“So, yes-“ you continued, bringing König out from the depths of his thoughts. “- I stole from him. Took the books he used to teach me, maybe a few ingredients for potions, a few seeds to start my own garden… but compared to what he took from me, I might as well have taken a loaf of bread.”

You stopped suddenly, and König came to a halt beside you. You nodded your head to the scene before you. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

König looked ahead: the trees parted into another clearing, larger this time. A rickety hut leaned against a wall of rock, made of thin, birch logs and mud slathered on top to keep out the wind. In the center of the clearing was a large stone, positioned near a pile of ash and rocks. A log lay near it, possibly another place for someone to sit. A small garden sat closer to the creek before your hut – it didn’t look to be doing very well, but that was expected as winter approached.

By the creek, there was a large, twisted oak. Its roots hung directly off of the bank and down into the water. Its leaves had fallen to the earth and mingled with the rest of the foliage by now – the entire thing had crimson paths winding around it, hauntingly similar to blood-filled veins. Several pieces of clothing and fabric hung from the branches and swayed in the autumn wind.

As you marched ahead, placing your basket down by the makeshift firepit and disappearing into the hut, König took a few, cautious steps forward. He was both charmed by the simplicity of it, and despondent that you were forced into this lonesome sort of life. He wanted to drag you from this measly hovel and show you something better.

But how? He was no better off than you were. All his earnings were spent on a room at the nearest tavern and a decent amount of ale to help him fall asleep. He never cared about having a home, as long as he had a place to keep out the cold. He didn’t think it would be good enough to drag you back to the village and convince you to spend the night with him in a thin-walled, noisy inn… but, even if he didn’t end up killing you today (something that seemed more and more likely with each passing second), he refused to leave you in this hell. If it was a cozy cabin, built so far away from civilization for the sole purpose of privacy and comfort, he could understand. Maybe even plead his case to you so you would let him stay. But this – this was a last resort. A broken down spot in the woods that you made for your banishment, for hiding. This wouldn’t do.

Call him insane. Call him crazy, hopeless, sick in the head… maybe his desires were founded on the thought that he would give you what he had never received.

You emerged from your hut, the thin, wooden door clanging shut behind you. You looked at him with a puzzled expression. Why was he still standing at the edge? You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and made your way over to him, your hair blowing across your face.

He watched as you stopped in front of him, your brow creased with question. Your head tilted back to look up at him, yet any traces of fear that you had shown earlier were gone. You looked at him like you’d known him for the past hundred years. It made his heart ache within his chest.

How could anyone have painted such a wretched picture of the woman who stood before him?

“Is everything alright?” you asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Like I said before, if you’d rather we stay outside-“

König interrupted you, reaching down and grabbing the sides of your arms firmly. You sucked in a breath warily, but you were still not afraid of him.

“I- you-“ Scheisse, what is he trying to say? He wanted to take you away, he wanted to show you how similar the both of you were to each other, he wanted to show you what (he thought) love was – slow, gentle, possessive, and strong. He wanted to keep you in his pocket, both to keep you safe from the world, and to make sure you couldn’t be taken from him. He wanted you, you, you –

This is insanity. He knew it. But that didn’t stop the fire in his chest, and the questionable throbbing in his trousers.

You knew. Your eyes said everything as they softened, as your lips pressed together into a knowing, sad smile. Were you going to turn him down? Would you say that you preferred it this way, that you liked being alone and living like a prisoner on the run? You took his face in his hands, and he had a foreboding sense in his gut that you might tell him to leave.

Quickly but gently, he cupped one hand at the back of your neck and pulled himself down to you, pressing his lips to yours before you could speak. It was only right, he thought, as he held the kiss – you didn’t understand that he could help you, he could build the life you deserved and keep you safe from any other hunters and warlocks. He placed his other hand on your lower back and pulled you in, moving his lips against your own and praying you wouldn’t deny him.

Like an angel answering his prayers, you tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your toes and kissing him back. He tugged his teeth at your bottom lip, and you so graciously allowed his tongue to slip past your teeth, letting him taste you. He whined, flooded with relief that you didn’t try to shove him away and call him deranged.

His cock was quickly growing hard, but he ignored it. Right now, he needed to figure out exactly what he needed to say to make you-

A raven’s call tore through the air, piercing his thoughts. It was much too close than any bird would naturally be.

He tried to turn his head in its direction, but you dug your fingers into his hair, making him stutter and freeze on the spot. He grabbed your hips, about to pry you away-

You pressed your lips firmly to his, and he heard you faintly muttering incoherent words against him. The world around him was suddenly showered with colors: purples like the berries that had stained your fingers, oranges like the leaves that were scattered across the ground, silvers like the thick clouds that blanketed across the sky… The black spots on the birch trees suddenly blinked and flitted across his vision; thousands of them stared at him, and he heard your sweet laughter echoing in the distance as the world spun, spun, spun…

He felt the cold earth press to his cheek, and the last thing he remembered was a sickening ache in his stomach.

He should have heeded the sorcerer’s warning.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"… so gut, so Schön, genau so…”

... so good, so beautiful, just like that...

[luludeluluramblings]

Hi so I was having some brainrot regarding your small-town-neglected-meta reader and I wanted to share them with you!

One thing I've been thinking about alot is the way readers powers work and what kinds of weather they're likely to create, etc. One thing I specifically thought about is that readers powers definitely have to come from her mom's side. Bruce and no else in Bruce's biological line have powers so readers mom has to have the meta gene. I was thinking that maybe readers mom also controlled the weather a bit, maybe not as strong as reader can but still had some powers.

Like creating little drizzles, maybe some dustdevils, and little snow storms. Because her powers were so weak she never really used them for much, maybe to help out her own parents on the farm but that's about it(using her rain powers to easily water the crops)

In that same line of thinking I also wondered if readers little brother also has superpowers. Maybe the way his powers work or appear are bit different than readers because of they have different dads(I imagine Bruce has really strong genetics. If Damian is any proof of that lol)

One little crank in this little headcanon though is that Nana and Gramps would also have to have superpowers. But then I reread the first chapter and thought about One of the phrases you used to describe how reader got in Bruce's hands.

"but blood is thicker than water in the eyes of the court."

That specifically makes me think that Nana and Gramps are actually readers little brother biological grandparents and not theirs.(what happened to their bio grandparents 🤔)

But anyway, one last thing I wanted mention is how badly I want to see reader using their powers more freely when they're back in small town. Like they aren't afraid to use their powers to make it super windy and have fun with their little brother up on the sky. Or causing a blizzard just so they can have a snowball fight and make snow-men with their little brother. Or even accidently cause a power outage because someone pissed them off! No more suppressed emotions just freedom. (Also reader crying in the middle of the rain they made in front of their parents graves(they wanted to be buried in their hometown) would be so tragically fantasic.)

Anyway I know this is a lot to read and I'm sorry if I seem a bit scrambled but I wanted to send this to you just cause I had so many ideas floating up in my brain I couldn't stop thinking about it all. Thank you for listening to me ramble, I hope your doing amazing🩷

Your call this bain-rot, Imma call it fertilizer. This is long as mess, but I think I addressed everything. Lots of Smalltown!Reader lore and I made a Family Tree to help explain if needed.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Smalltown!Reader's Family Tree:

Complicated little bugger, ain't it? I didn't add Stephanie or Barbara because Bruce technically never adopted them or fostered them. This isn't an official thing, I made this and it was composed of little bits of information I found online. So some of this stuff might not be lore accurate.

Also, while I was researching I found out that Bruce's middle name was apparently Patrick, after his grandfather at one point.

Now, time for the pseudo science.

I consider the meta gene to be a genetic trait carried down by a parent. That would be Momma/Adeline, in this case. She carries the gene. Now, the meta gene does not always activate even if one has it. So, no, Momma was not making mini storms for us. She was, however, very encouraging of Reader using their abilities. It takes an event, usually a traumatic one, to activate the gene. (Little Brother could be getting power's in the next chapter, though.)

As for Nana and Grand Daddy we have this:

They don't have the gene, so they don't have abilities. (Which doesn't me their harmless.) They are Reader's Step-Grandparents, but they've grown to love them all the same. Now, in court, it is preferred for a child to go to the nearest blood relative after their parents die. Or, at least, that's what I roughly know from what the court in my state is like. I'm not from Louisiana or New Jersey, where Gotham's located, so maybe it's different. But, this is fiction. This is why Nana and Grand Daddy didn't get custody of Reader, though. Plus Bruce is rich with a bunch of adopted kids, on paper he looks like the best option.

☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎

I really love the thought of Reader using their abilities for silly little things while back in Smalltown, at least before things absolutely go to hell in a hand basket. So I'll probably include a bit. (They used to do things like that before moving to Gotham, definitely.) Something I want to mention is that Reader likes to make it rain when their happy. It's their favorite weather, they love it. So a grave scene might be a bit different. (I have to include that now. Thank you for that idea! Frick, Part Eight about to be long af.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

If your curious about Reader's other grandparents, they just died from old age and health problems. I like to think that Reader had a close relationship with them. Calling them MawMaw and Gab for their nicknames and having spent a lot of time with Reader and their Little Brother before they died. (I'm sorely tempted to just commit to rewriting this with the OC I based Reader off of so I can include all this backstory to highlight how different their life in Gotham is compared to what it used to be, but I best finish what I started first.)

(Side Note: It's very common in the American south for people to give their grandparents nicknames. I have some for my southern grandparents, while I call my northern grandparents just plain Grandma and Grandpa. The nickname can vary and is usually what ever the first grandchild comes up with.)

Thank you for sending me this ask! Stuff like this actually inspires me so this was wonderful. Hopefully this helps. (Now to get back to work on my writing, I've been draggin' my feet again.)

[totothewolff]

Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection 18+ | Toto Wolff x reader, age gap, smut operator, clear daddy issues (this fic is inspired by Lana del Rey, duh), and yacht culture.

Summary: Toto Wolff is a name often mentioned at the Yacht Club, where you work after classes. For some reason, you have always pictured him as an old crank like the usual members, not this foxy man who arrives at the reception making your knees quiver.  The entire staff goes frenetic as he, one of the Club's most important clients, chooses to spend his spring break there without previous notice. You pray to the Gods that you don't cross lines with him since your entire livehood depends on this job, and you really want to graduate college. Author's note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but was way too long, so I split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy them. By the way, this version of Toto has questionable morals.

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2 - Breaking up slowly

As Mr. Holst's gateway yacht trip reaches an end, you follow protocol and deliver Toto the guest's satisfaction survey before docking in the Club's harbor.

It's supposed to be confidential and private for the guest. Still, Toto reads you the questions and tells you his answer as he writes them, evaluating you while you sit on his lap in his cabin armchair.

"Any complaints or suggestions, please elaborate," he reads you. "Yes. Y/N's skirts should have been shorter. They don't do justice to that ass," he jokes as you blush, still in awe of him.

He squeezes your ass cheek and gives you a hard slap leaving a red mark, instantly turning you on.

"Fuck me, daddy" you beg him against his lips, already placing you on top of him. 

Your clothes hit the ground. 

You aren't sure if the waves are rocking the hull that hard or if it's Toto's powerful thrust as he fucks you relentlessly, firm grip on your hips, fingertips pressuring on your skin.

-

The guests enjoy the yacht's amenities till the last minute before docking in the harbor of the Yacht Club.

The crew and you are all but busy, going everywhere, attending to guests, and running safety checks and protocols.

You attend to Toto's daily demands as he peacefully sunbathes before going to his cabin to change outfits. His tan skin makes him look even more handsome.

You overheard him telling the person on the other end of the call that he was going to a meeting downtown. 

He'll be gone the entire day and the whole of your shift. At least a bit of a break for you!

These past few days have been a dream but tiresome.

As the sailing master safely and perfectly anchors the yacht in the harbor, the guests start to descend the ship. A small committee of girls with beverages and canapes welcomes them.

The only people remaining onboard the ship's deck are Toto and you; he wanted to go last.

As you two casually talk, he pulls out an envelope from the insides of his blue blazer and offers it with his hand for you to grab it.

"Sorry, what is this?!" you ask, looking at the rectangular yellow envelope.

"It's a brick of money, isn't it?" you think.

"Your tip," he confirms your thoughts.

"But that is excessive. No way I'm accepting it."

"Do so," he sounds authoritarian as usual. "'It's going to help you with that fine." 

"Oh, hey, listen, I will make it, don't worry about it."

"Y/N," he sounds serious, his eyes looking straight at you. He is a very kind and sweet person on the inside. Still, on the outside, he is always cold, stony-looking, demanding, and impossibly hot. "Take it," he enunciates, his controlling trait displaying.

You have noticed, just by being by his side all these days, the pull and effect he has on people and still holds on to you. He is someone you want to impress, to win his approval and have his attention.

"What do you think this is "Pretty Woman"? Calm down, Richard Gere!" you dare to joke to change the mood a bit.

"Aren't you too young to know that reference?" he still answers sternly.

"I live with the rom-com connoisseur, aka my aunt." you smile brightly at him.

Toto has avoided stepping onto personal life terrains, wanting to remain far apart.

"Last time I offer it, take it. You need it. Besides, it's not like you are going to buy a Kelly bag with it; it's for your tuition."

"A what?!" you think. "Wait! How does he know that? I don't remember mentioning that to him."

"Thank you, but I prefer to maintain our relationship non-monetarian." you stand your ground.

"Our relationship?" Toto thinks.

He places the envelope back into his inside pocket as he said he would and steps off without looking back at you, moving along with his day.

-

"Welcome back to land," Chloé greets you the next day as you clip your radio on your belt in the staff locker room. You're getting ready for another shift before hugging her.

"I'm impressed! I must admit. You almost, ALMOST, achieved it! You got a really good-rate review on the satisfaction chart from Mr. Wolff, something I've never seen before." Then, she makes a dramatic pause.

Only if she knew...

Before continuing: "But not so with Mr. Elrod. He placed a formal complaint since, according to him, your incident with him was life-threatening."

"OH COME ON! He barely swoll!" You look annoyed and want to smash the locker with your fist.

"I know, I checked. Still, I'm really proud of you! But Raphaël called you to his office, so please go there now."

-

Oh God, you hate going up there!

You arm yourself with patience while climbing the swirling stairs to the upper floor of the management wing of the building, where the big names' offices are.

He makes you wait for a long time. The fucker knows the long wait it's going to delay your chores and make you leave work late. Until his assistant informs you from her chair at the front desk that you can go in.

You open the large glass door into the Assistant General Manager's office with a speech already prepared in your mind in case of the worst.

Raphaël is leaning back on his enormous executive leather chair and massive desk that screams small dick energy, looking sternly at you. 

Raphaël is a very posh, solemn, and wealthy fucker who is besties with Mr. Holst and his entire family and extended family, a textbook social climber.

A very uptight asshole. Raphaël chose to dislike you from the moment you set foot at the Club; he tries to get you fired at any given chance. 

Most of the girls who work there are beautiful and come from an obvious upper class; most are daughters, nieces, or granddaughters of...

The Yacht Club is where the rich teach their kids a lesson on the value of work or use it as a perfect excuse to kick them out of the house for a few hours.

Usually, they get hired because daddy made a call, and you are none of that.

"Ah, good morning," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you're still here. I'm surprised you didn't quit on the spot after that dangerous incident."

You take a deep breath and try to keep your cool. "Good morning, Raphaël. I'm still here because I'm committed to doing my job to the best of my ability and finding a solution to the problem rather than blaming myself."

Raphaël snorts. "You're the one who caused the problem, sweetheart. You're always causing problems. You're a liability to this company."

You feel angry at his words, but you keep your composure. "I understand you're upset, but I'm trying my best."

Raphaël swings a bit in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "You're just a silly girl who doesn't know how to do her job. You're lucky I'm even giving you a final and last chance to prove yourself."

You feel a lump form in your throat. "I understand you don't think highly of me, but I'm trying to do my best; I have learned fast and proved myself worthy."

Raphaël laughs a cold, cruel sound. "You're just not cut out for this job, sweetheart. We are the best and need the best on our team."

"I...I don't know what to say," you stutter.

Raphaël leans forward, his eyes glinting with triumph. "Just thank Ava, sweetie, for changing Holst's mind. You're on thin ice, one more mistake, and you're gone. You can leave now," he dismisses you.

-

"Thank you, I owe you one, I guess," you whisper to Ava for saving your ass as you cross paths with her in the beautiful and perfectly maintained gardens.

"You were kind to me," she says in the same tone as usual, not as friendlier as you would have liked. "I trust you keep our conversation from that day private."

"Pinky promise," you offer her your pinky. She looks at you with an "ugh" expression, rolls her eyes, and walks away. A couple of steps further, she turns to smile at you.

Now you two are best friends for life in your head! IJBOL.

-

The following two weeks are a swirl of moans as Toto, and you can't keep your hands off each other. 

You fuck everywhere private and remote enough, where there are no security cameras.

You can't have enough of his dick and his body. You are so infatuated with him.

Every time he calls in you at his villa, you end up fucking; it doesn't matter how hard you both try to fight the urge to do so.

He has had you against the door, his bedframe, or the room's vanity, on top of the piano and even in the jacuzzi. The sex drive of that fit man is spectacular, and you are young enough to keep its pace.

You have never been so sexually active and free in your life, learning and experiencing many things for the first time. Toto makes the best teacher and lover you have ever had.

By this point, you lost count of how many times you have moaned his name, called him daddy, or the number of times he has made you cum and beg for more.

-

Your aunt and close friends start to notice your glow. Lately, you look radiant and happy.

She is intrigued to know the reason behind it as you two go to the mall on Sunday.

"FINE. I WILL TELL YOU! I'm dating the most gorgeous, wise, handsome, accomplished, hot guy, AND HE IS SO INTO ME! Can you believe it?!"

"Oh, I can. My niece is great! And where did you meet this adonis, and most importantly, does he have an older brother?"

"He is an older brother!" you want to say but don't. 

She doesn't need to know every single detail, not yet. You want to keep it a surprise for when you take Toto home.

"He has a sister," you answer.

"Ah! And what else can you tell me?"

"Well, he is from Austria! I plan to invite him over to have dinner at the apartment so you can meet and ask him all the questions you want. What do you think?"

The look she gives you! You had never taken a single boy to the house. This must be serious, then.

"Has he tasted your cooking yet?" she wonders before answering.

You shake your head.

"Well, if he survives it, then it's true love!" you two laugh as your aunt jokes and links her arm with yours before adding: "Please invite him for dinner. I'd love to meet him, but you know what! Better buy lasagna. We want this to work, right?!"

-

You love to text Toto sweet and touchy messages throughout the day that hint at how he makes you feel, how much he means to you, and how great it is to be with him.

You are in love.

Yet, you try not to suffocate him or embarrass yourself, still being nervous around him, still wanting his approval. 

Toto still intimidates you. Being the powerful and dominant man he is.

You can't believe you snatched him! Lucky girl!

But in your mind, fuck! Wedding bells are already chirping, and future children's name-searching is already happening.

-

The Yacht Club has a museum/memorabilia section that almost no one visits. It's located far away from the lobby and main guest areas, and for obvious reasons, it has many security cameras. 

But next to it, further down the hallway, there's a blind spot on the CCTV system, right in the space of the door to an old phone room. 

In this room, the original antic magneto wall set telephone is still mounted on the wall, along with a stern wood chair where people used to chat in private.

You ask Toto to meet you there after he texts you he hasn't seen you today. 

Also, you want to inform him that you are going on a "two-day leave" plus the weekend, so you will be away from him for four days. 

You don't want to send him mixed signals, and you're getting paranoid that he might think you're running away.

And since you don't want to miss him, maybe he could join you if he wants and feels like it. You know, couple life outside the Club.

A hand-in-hand walk through Monaco's streets sounds nice; a cute date with wine and kisses sounds more than good.

-

When he closes the door behind him, the place looks ridiculously smaller.

You immediately stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around him as you greet him. 

You share small, soft kisses for a while.

He sadly tells you he can't join you on your break. 

Since he extended his stay, Toto has things scheduled on his agenda that he is supposed to be doing in his office in London.

"But I'm going to miss you, daddy," you pout and give him the biggest Bambi-begging eyes.

"Not even that it's going to work. Try it with my assistant. Thanks for trying tho."

"Where can I meet her?"

He laughs before pulling you into a more intense kiss.

"Should we say goodbye to each other?" he says against your lips, caressing your neck.

"It is crazy how four days felt like nothing before you; now that I have you in my life, it's an eternity."

He holds you closer, pulling you by the waist.

"Then let's make it count enough to stay in each other minds for those days."

"You are permanently on my mind," you confess, burying your face in his shoulder, all red, and not even being able to look at him while feeling the expensive material of his jacket brushing your skin.

Then, your mouth finds his, kissing him hungrily. You push your tongue into his mouth, tangling with his, your hands sliding up the hard planes of his chest, then drifting over his shoulders to find the hem of his shirt. 

Your fingers feel his warm skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through him as you trace the contours of his muscles.

The smell of your perfume, jasmine, and vanilla intoxicates him. This scent will remind him of this moment as he passionately claims your mouth.

Slowly, you undress each other, savoring the anticipation. As hands wander over defined abs, curves, and dips, caresses become bold strokes.

The pads of your fingers move lower, exploring the ridges of his abdomen. With a smoldering look, you glance up at Toto, a wicked smile on your lips.

Heat spreads through him as you press yourself against his groin and your bare breasts against his chest. He can feel your heart pounding.

With a soft, playful jerk, you touch his growing excitement. "Eager, daddy?" you ask.

He nods.

You waste no time, and you get down to your knees as you take him into your mouth as he is sitting in the chair. Your warm, wet tongue swirls around him, your head bobbing gently as you work him in and out of your mouth. 

His fingers find their way into your soft, silken hair, gripping it gently, urging you on.

His pleasure moans grow as you work your magic, your tongue and lips exploring him for a while.

Slowly, you move up till your lips brush the shell of his ear. 

He commands you. "Ride me, now."

You shift your weight, adjusting your position to better align with Toto's cock, and you sink onto him, your pussy fitting itself around his cock like a glove; you feel a jolt of pleasure.

He fills you completely, and you allow yourself a moment to take in the intensity of that feeling, skin against skin.

Your hips begin to sway, moving gently to the rhythm of your shared breathing. With each undulation, the chair beneath you becomes part of the dance.

Toto's hands, which had been resting at his sides, now find their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he feels you move against him.

Your breath is warm and soft against his neck as your bodies rock with each movement. You feel your core tighten, your pleasure growing in intensity. 

The control Toto wields over the rhythm, and you is intoxicating. Your breathing quickens.

"Faster," he orders you; you moan, obedient and needy. He wants you full force.

You feel the intensity of your coupling, the friction becoming almost unbearable.

You throw your head back mid powerful and intense bounces and cry out, desperate for release. 

His hands move to grip your thighs, his fingers applying pressure into your soft flesh as he guides your hips up and down to meet now his intense thrusts, Toto's bucking his hips up now, and your full breasts bounce against his sculpted chest.

Your lips meet in a passionate kiss; tongues entwine at a pace as hungry as the one below your waists. 

You tangle your hands in Toto's hair, tugging it gently to urge him for more as you clench your sex around him, drawing out an animalistic groan from deep within him. 

"Fuck, yes, Y/N," Toto growls through gritted teeth. He slams his balls into your pussy again and again, driving you both closer to the edge.

Your bodies are all slick with sweat as you shudder atop Toto, releasing a visceral moan with an orgasm radiating from your core and rippling through every nerve in your body, dripping all over his shaft and thighs.

He growls low in his throat, a raw, primal sound that reverberates through the room as he surrenders to his own release.

-

Every day away, you text him, exchanging photos and moments from both days.

You can't keep away from him.

-

Upon your return, you attend and cheer for Toto, who is participating in the regatta rally. 

The sound of seagulls surrounds you, as does the smell of salt water and fresh coffee wafts from the food and beverage stalls, enticing the crowd on the quayside.

As the starting gun fires, a fleet of sleek, high-tech sailboats burst into action, their crews navigating the intricate course set out on the water. 

The crowd cheers and chants as the boats round each mark, their helmsmen and women trimming their sails to maximize speed. 

As the regatta approaches its climax, the top boats are neck and neck, and Toto and his crew are straining every muscle to gain that precious extra yard. 

The tension is palpable as his boat crosses the finish line, and he and his crew leap into celebration as they win the rally.

Meanwhile, champagne corks pop on the quayside, and glasses get raised in a toast to the winners. 

The air is filled with conversation as the member's friends and families mingle, congratulating each other on a thrilling day under their giant sun umbrellas and comfy outdoor chairs.

Meanwhile, you remained sitting on the pier under the sun with your crew coworkers by your side, waiting for your guests to return and watching the action unfold on the waters. 

All of you girls, legs hanging, white sneakers almost touching the waters beneath you, dress in blue shorts and white polos with the Club's logo patch on the left.

After a while, the sun and the wood surface start to irritate your face and ass, respectively.

You smile brightly at Toto when you spot him reaching closer in the boat, locking eyes with him.

His shirt is all wet, and what is beneath it is showing. You fight the urge to run your hand all over his chest when you reach him after the trophy ceremony.

-

As you finish setting Toto's regatta equipment back inside the shed in his villa's garden view deck, Léo approaches you, thinking you are alone.

Staring at your bend over the body, eyes on your ass. An excellent view. 

Toto watches this from inside. He stepped inside to go shower.

"Y/N!" you turn without flinching, familiar with the voice and happy to hear it. 

"Léo! Hi!"

"I missed you, cutie," he says to you, even if you are a girl. Then he welcomes you with a tight hug, pulling you off the ground.

Toto wants to see how the scene unfolds, still without making himself be noticed. 

Why is that guy standing that close to you? Doesn't he know personal space?

He watches you two chat, you looking all happy and smiley, telling Léo all about your past days while his eyes burn on you. 

Toto catches desire in them, so when Léo places a hand on the shed and around you, Toto steps in.

"Kid," he calls for you. "My drink," he reminds you what he asked you to do next.

"Oh! Yes, sir!" You quickly move to serve Toto's drink. Léo gives him a "those manners!" look, and they share a quick exchange. 

At that moment, Toto glimpses at his cook uniform in bright daylight and tells him, "I didn't ask for any food." This is a subtle hint to better leave.

When Toto moves to stand right behind you, you can almost feel his knee in the back of your thigh.

Léo proceeds to leave, sending him a silent fuck you with his eyes.

"Bye, gorgeous! See you around, my girl." Léo addresses you but holds his gaze at Toto as he walks away, looking back.

"Okay..." you think, watching them interact.

-

"Let's go, kid," he orders you.

"Where?!" you ask as he drags you by the arm, a firm grip on your forearm as he pulls you along.

"Move," he instructs.

-

Minutes later, the sun warms Toto's back as he expertly maneuvers his jet ski on the waters. Going extremely fast as you hold tight to his body, the jet ski roaring beneath you, surging forward as water sprays behind you.

The salty ocean breeze whips through his dark hair and yours. 

A desolate yet inviting small beach appears in the distance as a coast unfolds. Toto gestures to you to the sandy expanse, "There."

You glance at the beach in question and raise your delicate eyebrows. "You brought us here? Why?"

"I have something to make clear." It's all he answers, in a harsh voice, before reaching land.

-

The waves lap gently against the fine white sands of the isolated coastline. You take a moment to enjoy the sounds of the ocean and the serenity of nature surrounding you.

Your skin and Toto's glisten with sweat, seawater, and sunscreen. 

His gaze roams over your body, relishing the breathtaking view. He licks his lips, unable to resist himself any longer. 

His eyes are so intense on you that he almost looks angry. Toto's expression dangerously morphs into a lust-filled one. 

He leans closer to claim your mouth in a rough, passionate kiss. Parting your lips brusquely, allowing himself to explore and taste your sweetness with his tongue while holding your neck with a stern grip.

His hands move to press your slick body firmly.

Toto then powerfully lifts you from the ground and takes you further into the beach, finally pushing you to the sand and rolling on top of you, feeling your breasts crush against his chest. 

He pulls your legs open and places them around his waist, roughly handling you, nails pressing into your skin, and he sighs in pleasure, feeling your warmth pressed against his.

He moves to remove your clothes roughly and quickly, almost tearing your polo shirt; within seconds, you are both naked. "Beautiful," Toto whispers, voice dangerous.

Your eyes flare with desire and curiosity as he has never handled you this rough.

With no hesitation or warning, he pulls his rock-hard length inside you, making you gasp at the sudden move. Toto's voice rasp in your ear, "Only I can fill you up."

You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip.

"Say it," he demands.

"Yes, daddy. Only you can fill me," you whisper, your voice thick with arousal.

Those words send Toto's self-control over the ledge. 

He slides into you frenetically, your pussy taking his hard hits with thunderous moist claps. He is fucking you so harshly in such a powerful rhythm you can barely take him.

You bury your nails in the sand surrounding you, grasping. "Daddy!" you moan so loud.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," Toto growls, biting down on the curve of your neck.

His thrusts are desperate and animal, and every muscle in his body is rocking. You arch your back, moaning nonstop as Toto keeps hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, relentlessly. 

"Daddy! Please," you gasp for air. You can barely take it anymore. "Daddy! I can't." his balls deep thrust keep going. A massive moan escapes your lips.

"Be a nice girl, take this dick good." He commands.

"I-, I-, Daddy, please." Your fingers dig into his shoulders, urging him to let you catch your breath.

"You are only mine to have." Toto's mouth claims yours, swallowing your moans. 

"This pussy is all yours!" you are barely able to say, shaking violently under his strong jabs.

"Again," his dick slams you harder.

"I'm only yours!" you scream in an orgasm, breathing real loud.

"Again," he slams you with his dick again.

Your whimpers grow louder.

"I'm yours, daddy!"

The feeling of his raw masculinity taking you over, dominating you entirely, sends ripples of need through your core.

Each drive of his hips is a powerful claim, a branding that declares you his.

"Good girl, now it's clear." He kisses your lips softly and licks them, running his wet tongue all over them.

With one final thrust, he buries himself as deep inside you, feeling you clench and pulse around him as you cry out.

Toto's body shudders with the force of his release. You stay there, panting and covered in sweat and sand as the waves crash upon the shore, matching the rhythm of your breathing.

Toto stays inside you, wanting to remain close for a little longer. He places soft and sweet kisses all over your face, now tenderly caressing you. His soft touch is all over you.

He collapses in exhaustion next to your side. The two of you are naked with your backs to the sand and facing the sky, feeling the sun's warm rays on your skin. 

You can't help but smile as you look over at Toto, lying beside you with his muscular chest heaving up and down. 

"We're quite a mess," you chuckle, gesturing to the sand and fluids that cover your bodies.

Toto laughs, "Nothing that a quick rinse can't fix."

He watches you stand up, brush the sand off your ass, and sprint towards the ocean. 

Toto follows you, admiring your naked figure and the way your ass moves as you stride.

You dip your toes into the water, squealing as a wave crashes over your feet. Toto comes up behind you, planning to plunge you into the water, so you playfully run from him.

He catches and kisses you before lifting you in his arms and bringing you inside the water with him.

He admires your ability to be open-minded, fun, and fearless in pursuing new experiences, especially those involving him.

-

A call bell coming from Toto's living room makes you speed there. Your chores today were so fucking tedious; by this point, you have like four good hours inside the china's closet.

As soon as you enter, he informs you, "Kid, I need my things packed by 2 p.m."

"You are leaving?!!" That sounded more desperate than you expected.

"I need to fly to sign papers in my London office. I will return on Thursday, just in time for Holst's Casablanca-themed birthday party."

Oh, yeah, next week is going to be crazy. A fucking colossal gala it's going to take place at the Club's gardens.

-

When the elevator doors to Toto's office slide open, a burst of energy and femininity floods the room as the most stunning woman enters.

Toto's office is on the top floor of a sleek, modern skyscraper, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unobstructed panorama of the bustling London's metropolis.

Her impossible curves seem to have been crafted by the gods themselves.

Her long, dark, sleek hair cascades down her back, framing her heart-shaped face and highlighting her stunning eyes. 

With her full lips in a deep shade of red, she moves with a confident stride, her high heels clicking on the floor as she makes her way to Toto's desk. 

Her toned and shapely legs seem to go on forever. She is supermodel tall, and the way she moves her hips is enough to weaken any man in the knees.

Irina sits in one of the expensive designer chairs in front of Toto's trendy clear glass desk. Her fitted dress hugs her curves in all the right places. 

Her shoulders are bare, and the gentle swell of her breasts seems to strain against the fabric.

Her hands are long and elegant, and she has a massive diamond ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. 

As she leans back in the chair, her hair bounces against her shoulders, releasing a faint scent of perfume.

Looking busy behind his desk, Toto can't help but look up from his papers, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of surprise and admiration. 

-

Toto's iPhone buzzes on his desk surface as Irina moves to get comfy on the expensive velvet sofa by the wall after a good chat and a successful exchange on Irina's part.

Reminding Toto of his responsibilities in life.

He picks it up to open your chat.

"Since it's our first month anniversary and you are away. I had more time to prepare a gift for you." you text Toto.

He watches a photo loading on your conversation.

A photo of a completely naked you arrive, standing back to the camera behind a see-through light fabric curtain that looks like and is the one in his bedroom at his villa. 

Your shoulders, back, and ass are on full display, your silhouette looking delicious to him; you are posing with your arms up, both placed on your head, and your hair is in a bun.

No face, just body, in a contrast of light.

Toto feels like jerking off to that photo when a second one arrives. 

It's a close-up photo of your breast; you are laying on his bed in the villa, again with light fabric on top of your tits, nipples hard, looking ready for him to bite them: no face or more body below your waist on this one.

"What a masterpiece," he replies. "But who took them? It's that my villa? How did you manage?"

"A dear friend of mine takes boudoir photos. I lied to Chloé and told her the photographer came for a photo session appointment with the guests I'm serving during your leave."

"An that dear friend is?" instantly possesive.

"Anne, a girl friend from college, she is an art major," you quickly reply.

"They should hang them in a museum."

You feel so proud of yourself for making him react like that. God, you miss him.

"Hey, kid, you are home?" he looks at his Rolex, running calculous.

"Yes"

"Do me a favor then."

"Sure!"

"Touch yourself till you cum, and moan my name loud." you get wet, reading the text.

"Would you do the same, daddy?"

"Yes."

-

Irina wonders who makes him smile like that.

-

As you prepare everything at Toto's villa for his return, along with Chloé, you dare to ask her a question and discuss a topic you have been dreading for so long.

"Does Mr. Wolff have a leave date?" you gain the courage.

"He already overextended his stay, which is rare, as rare as him showing up unexpectedly as he did. Mr. Wolff is one of those people who schedules everything in advance and always informs us months before, so something must have happened." She reaches out to you to help you place the fresh sheets on his bed.

"So, no date?" you ask again.

"You grew tired of him already?" Chloé looks straight at you.

"OH. NO, NO. I'm just curious," you quickly add, waving your hands.

"No date, child"

Is he staying for you? You wonder in your head.

-

You two have never talked about your future. 

Toto leaving without you has become your biggest fear in life, like ever. 

-

The night is fully set over the sea, and the Club's grounds are set by the strumming of a Moroccan guitar, which sets the tone for the true extravaganza about to happen.

You see Ava fixing Mr. Holst's bowtie as he prepares for his grand entrance.

The Club's gardens transformed into a Moroccan oasis, and the towering palm trees were now adorned with twinkling fairy lights.

The crowd erupts into applause as Mr. Holst enters, resplendent in a tailored white suit and sunglasses, à la Rick Blaine, escorted by a troupe of really hot and barely dressed female dancers, who performed a mesmerizing choreographed routine to the iconic tunes of "As Time Goes By."

The tables are set with fine china and crystal glassware, adorned with candles and a sumptuous spread of Moroccan delicacies, including tagines, couscous, and fragrant pastries. 

The aroma of exotic spices wafts through the air.

Meanwhile, at the bar where you are currently working, the mixologists are shaking (not stirring) up signature cocktails inspired by the classic film's iconic characters. The "Ilsa," a refreshing blend of gin, lemon, and mint, is a particular hit among the guests.

The place is packed with wealthy people from around the globe, all friends of Mr. Holst and his wife, and the bar is the busiest spot. 

You are so busy that you haven't even had a chance to look for Toto. He must be somewhere looking all handsome in a classic tuxedo! Gosh, you die to see him and kiss him.

Then, Mr. Holst takes center stage once more, surrounded by his wife and children. With a heartfelt speech, he starts the party.

-

As midnight approaches, a massive three-tier cake held by two big guys enters in the old style, and everyone sings Happy Birthday to Mr. Holst as fireworks light up the night sky! 

The crowd cheers and oohs as sparks rain down upon them.

Then, you have your first break of the night. Some of your coworkers at recess get dinner, light a cigar, or just sit down in the crew's hidden section. It's been crazy!

You use the opportunity to text Toto: "Hi, my love. Where are you? I want to see your handsomeness in a tux. Daddy, I miss you so much."

-

As a tipsy Toto is laughing and drinking with Holst and his wife when the couple reaches the table where he is, Irina picks up his phone, buzzing on the table.

She reads the text you sent him and chunks of your conversation. 

"Who the fuck is "Kid"?!"

She then starts looking at the photos you shared, fuming, especially when she finds the ones from the boudoir photo session you took for Toto.

Oh, no, baby! Her wedding with Toto is happening, yes or yes, and she will not allow you to interfere!

Toto will not slip away from her! Not now, she got him back at the palm of her hand and into his senses!

It worked wonders to give him that bit of a break after he got cold feet and had second thoughts about committing himself to her.

No one touches what is hers, and she is about to teach you a lesson!

Now that she knows your face, it is just a matter of time before she finds you there.

Apparently, you work here.

-

You are navigating through the crowded party, surrounded by the thumping music and the hums of conversations because your boss asked you to move to attend a special guests table.

As you walk there, you feel a pair of eyes burning into your skin. The hottest woman you have ever seen is staring intensely at you. 

It turns out to be the table where Raphaël parents are. So, to your misfortune, he is also around, adding an extra stress layer to your night as he behaves demanding and pays attention to your every action.

-

As the night progresses, you feel unsure if you are being paranoid or that woman has been watching you for a long time, her gaze flicking from a phone to you again.

Mr. Holst greets you, and you congratulate him on his birthday; he sits to chat with Raphaël's elderly mom.

The hot woman suddenly swoops in, her long legs striding across the room to you. 

Her eyes flash with anger as she grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin. "You think you're so special, don't you?" she hisses, her voice low and venomous, taking you completely by surprise.

You try to shake her off, not knowing what the fuck is happening! But she's too strong. 

She pulls you closer, her face inches from yours. "You're nothing but a foolish little fling to Toto," she sneers really loud for everyone at the table to hear.

You start to feel all eyes on you as she causes a scene.

"This means nothing to him! You are just an entertainment." she continues.

You feel a surge of embarrassment as you realize what's happening. 

Toto looks at you two, his eyes wide with surprise, but he doesn't intervene. Your bosses are standing nearby, their faces frozen in shock.

Irina shows you the stunning diamond ring on her hand and holds it up for everyone to see. 

The table you attend falls silent, and all eyes are on you. Humiliation hits you as you realize the scope of what's happening.

"You think you can just waltz in here and steal my man? Toto is marrying me," she says again, her voice dripping angrily. "Me! Stay the fuck away!"

Irina flings back into the crowd, her words echoing in your mind. 

You feel tears stinging in your eyes as you turn to flee the party. 

"Don't even bother to come back. You are fired." Raphaël addresses you, firing you in the spot, catching you preparing to leave, his gaze burning with triumph and victory.

The sounds of laughter and music fade into the distance as you stumble into the night air, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Léo and Chloé look astonished as they watch you leave after witnessing the show Irina put on.

Your heels are hitting the floor faster, and the trail of your fitted gorgeous gala dress sways behind you.

You know that you will never be able to show your face at this place again and that no one will ever look at you in the same way after this.

God, you are so mad at Toto and even more heartbroken!

-

A loud knock comes at the door; maybe your aunt left work early. "Coming!" you look like a mess with swollen eyes from all the crying and feeling like shit and heartbroken, destroyed, dusted, you name it.

Toto's tall figure greets you when you open the door.

"How yo-?!" you look at him, eyes filling with anger and tears again.

"Ava," he interrupts you. "She got your address and sent me in a car here."

He reads your intention to close the door to his face and stops it firmly with his muscular arm.

Toto invites himself into your apartment. Standing beside the worn-out cupboard, he looks out of place, especially in that expensive tuxedo.

Gosh, he looks so dreamy, fuck him!

"Irina was completely wrong. You are not entertainment; what happened with us was real; you are important to me, more than you imagine." He goes straight to the point, not wasting time making things clear.

You feel a couple of tears run down your eyes. Lots of emotions for just one night.

He reaches closer to wipe them with his fingers. "I shouldn't have allowed Irina to talk to you that way and embarrassed you. Please forgive me. For all. We were on a time off when I met you."

"Irina? You thought that was his sister. You heard Holst asking him about her at brunch, along with his mom," You stupid girl!

"I called off the engagement for good." He looks straight at you and closes the steps between you.

"You did?!" and you die to add the "for me," but you contain.

"Do you still want me?" he asks, leaning closer to your lips, his breath brushing your mouth.

"Yes," a beg escapes your lips.

-

Toto is there to apologize for the hurt he caused. He wants to reach for you, to hold you close, but he doesn't know where to begin. So, instead, he does the only thing that feels right at that moment.

His lips find yours in a tender kiss, at first gentle but exploring, as if trying to find his way home.

You respond with a soft sigh, and your hands roam over his back, muscles reacting to your gentle touch. 

Your mouths open to each other in a deep, consuming kiss, tongues darting and twisting, exploring every spot of the other's mouth.

Before any of you knows what is going on, you stumble your way towards the bed, Toto's hands finding the hem of your short nightgown, pulling it up and over your head, revealing your naked body. 

The sight of your bare skin is enough to take his breath away. 

Toto's fingers trace the curves of your breasts, thumbs flicking at your stiffening nipples as you gasp and arch into his touch. 

God, you always feel so good.

"Fuck," he mutters, bending his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. The taste of your nipple is intoxicating, and he moans in pleasure as his lips close around you.

Toto's mouth works its magic on each flick of his tongue and grazes of his teeth; you get wetter, your arousal building up.

Then his fingers find your folds, slick with need, and he spreads you open, fingering that pussy he very much loves.

He groans at the contact, his cock throbbing in response. He needs to be inside you. He needs to lose himself in you.

Clothes go out of the way.

Toto looks up at you, asking for consent, and with one swift motion, he enters you, his cock sliding into your wet, welcoming heat. You gasp as he fills you, your body adjusting to his size.

He doesn't move yet. He gives you time to get used to him. His eyes never leave yours as he waits, his breath hot against your skin. The anticipation is unbearable, and you rock your hips against him, urging him to move.

Toto growls, low and deep in his throat, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. The force of his thrust pushes your body down against the bed, and you cry out as pleasure shoots through you.

The feel of Toto inside you, filling and completing you, is unlike anything.

Toto's thrusts become harder, more urgent, driving into you with a force that had you moaning out his name over and over again, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

The sound of your sweat-slicked bodies slapping against each other, the wetness that escapes with each thrust, fills the small room.

Your breasts bounce with every move. You are so close to the edge, your orgasm building deep within you. Toto feels your inner walls begin to flutter around his cock, the sensation driving him wild.

"Fuck, Toto!" you cry out, clutching at the sheets as your body trembles with pleasure under his thrust.

He repeats the motion over and over again, your body shaking beneath him, your moans desperate. Toto feels your body tighten around him and your inner walls milking his cock.

With a final, frantic thrust, Toto lets himself go. He cums hard, filling you with his release.

As you both come down from your high, Toto collapses onto you, his body panting and slick with sweat. 

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both catch your breath.

Toto presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Toto, I... I..." you try to build the courage to say.

"Yes?" His voice is husky but caring.

"I- I love you." You are all red, looking down, unable to face him. 

He pulls your chin up tenderly with his finger before kissing your lips. 

Before you dare to confess: "I never loved someone this much, I... I want a life with you and you to be my future. Could, you, I don't know, think about it, maybe, you know, you could... take me... with you to London, it sounds good."

A trail of kisses comes your way. "I will think about it, but let's sleep first. It's almost 4 a.m." he rubs his eyes and wraps you around his body.

"Yeah, I'm exhausted too; a lot happened." You kind of laugh and move to enjoy the view of his naked body, caressing him till he falls asleep, and you, too.

-

As sunlight creeps into your small room, you wake up disoriented. It's a hot day, and the AC is off.

"Toto?" you call his name; his body is not next to you, and you hear sounds from the kitchen.

"Is he making you breakfast? How sweet!"

You get on your feet and quickly pull some clothes on. You don't want to miss that moment for your life.

You pull the slightly already open door of your room to be greeted by an unexpected scene.

Surprisingly, your aunt is there, cooking breakfast for your mom. You look around the apartment, confused.

"Surprise!" your mom lets out from one of the chairs on the small round table. "Oh, it's only me, honey!" your mom informs you, thinking you are looking around to spot her family. As usual, believing life revolves around her.

"Are only just you two in here?" you ask.

"Ahm, yes..." your aunt says, holding the pan. "Well, no, if you count the ghost that lives here, the one who likes to throw my flowerpots."

"It's a cat!" you add before walking fast back to your room. Then you look at the clock, fuck! It's almost 1 p.m.; it's not breakfast time. It's lunchtime!

You pick up your phone, no new texts or calls from Toto; maybe he is dealing with shit after what happened. It's too bad you cannot go back to the Club.

What is that?!

You notice a folded piece of paper on the nightstand. You feel the fine paper on your fingertips as you open it:

"I'm sorry to do this to you, kid, but I can't."

And just like that, he exits your life.

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

[97keanu]

winter-themed phone sex w/ Dave Lizewski? like, y/n and Dave had plans to see each other but then a snowstorm hits and both of them are stuck in their own houses, so they have phone sex?

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳WAIT I LOVE THIS ONE!!! A few years of a LDR has me basing this one on some experience... 🤭

. ｡✩Tags/CW: dave and reader college au, boyfriend!Dave, circa 2010s vibes, skype s*x, mutual m*sturbation, dirty talk, I think usually Dave is a sub but today I'm feeling surprising dom!Dave(oh the confidence you can find behind a screen...), belt kink, talk of spanking/choking/slapping, semi aggressive talk, d*ldo use, cozy end.

"So, I'll see you tonight after your last class?" Dave asks, pushing his glasses up and leaning against the wall near you to try to ask suave.

You've both just exited your last shared class of the day. You reach up and pull his hat down over his ears, knowing he's going out in that cold weather today. It's been freezing, but no sign of anything else.

"Yes! I'll be headed over to your dorm soon as my night class is done." You smile, fixing your own cold weather garments before leaning in to sneak a quick kiss.

Dave's eyes flutter behind his glasses as you kiss him, practically melting into your lips. He knows it's kind of embarrassing to kiss in front of all the other students trying to get out of their own for the day, but he also kind of likes than everyone can see someone as gorgeous as you being the one to kiss him.

You give his hand one last squeeze and head off so you aren't late to your next class.

You're checking the clock over and over, practically aching to get out of class. Night has set so early as it does in December, and from your seat by the window, you can see the flurries of snow getting larger. Everyone is rushing, packing up quickly to try to beat the snow, but by the time you get outside, there's already more than a few inches.

You fight against a wicked wind that blinds you in a cloud of white as you try to get to your car. Your cheeks burn red from the cold, and you quickly brush off as much of the heavy blanket of snow on your car as you can before it starts to fill up with white again.

You weren't one to keep an eye on the weather, but when you finally hop into your car, you check your texts, seeing a million from Dave asking if your class was cancelled or not. You crank the heat of your car and wait for it to warm up, taking a moment to call your boyfriend.

"Babe! All you alright? Should I call a snow plow to come save you?" Dave's voice is half alarmed, half joking when he answers.

"No, no, I'm fine!" You laugh and assure him, knowing your big truck has four wheel drive and you're not unused to this weather. "But I'm not sure I can make it over tonight..."

"I totally understand..." Dave says, despite the pouting tone in his voice. "But I'll miss you..."

"I feel the same way," you say, leaning against your foggy car window. "Maybe I can make it up to you later this weekend if the snow clears."

"Yeah," Dave says with a sigh, then begins again as if he's had an idea. "Well, hey! Maybe we could try out having one of those virtual dates if you can't physically come!"

"Oh really? And what does that entail?"You laugh, not someone who's super tech savvy yourself for these things.

"W-Well," Dave says nervously, unsure it this would interest you. "We could each set up a little dinner in front of a Skype call and watch each other through our webcams? Maybe watch a movie together if we hit play at the same time?"

You think for a moment. It actually doesn't sound like a bad idea, and it's not like you really have much to do when you get home either besides maybe study and bundle up from the cold.

"That actually sounds really sweet..." You say with a smile into the phone. "I'm going to drive home, but you get it all set up for when I get there!"

"You got it!" You can tell just by his voice how excited Dave is.

. ｡✩

You finally arrive home, taking twice the time as usual from the low visibility and your cautious driving. You're lucky to have made it, there were a few cars on the side of the road having had swerved and gotten stuck in sudden snow banks. You pound your boots on the entrance mat, trying to get as much snow off them as possible. You shake a flurry off white off your body and peel yourself from your scarf, hat, and coat.

Finally, you're free, taking the time to send Dave a text about your arrival and your plan to make dinner then meet him for your Skype date.

You settle upstairs with a big mug of cocoa and a few slices of left over pizza finally, and get set up in front of your computer. The good news about dating Dave was that he had helped you completely outfit and build a PC that could do just about anything, despite the fact that you only really use it for school, YouTube, and the occasional minecraft server with him. He also had a webcam installed so that you could take your online classes as well, or give him a call if you felt the need.

You strip down to just a big comfy sweater and a pair of lacy red panties, happy that the webcam only sees your upper half. You made sure to turn up the heat in your apartment, so with the vent beneath the desk, you feel perfectly cozy after a rough time in the treacherous snow.

You quickly figure out how to use Skype once more, and before you know it, Dave appears on your screen. He's in his dorm room, outfitted with only the most prestigious nerdy memorabilia on the walls and shelves behind him. He looks more than happy to see you, giving a big smile.

"It worked! Awesome! You ready for our dinner date, babe?" His voice comes through your headphones, and for a moment, a chill runs down your spine as you remember how sexy you find it.

"Of course," you say with a smile and raise your plate and mug to the camera.

Dave does the same, showing a can of Coke and a bowl of Mac and Cheese. Then he pauses as if he forgot to mention something.

"Oh! Of course, our dinner wouldn't be a date if it wasn't candle lit!" He pulls a tiny candle into frame, its small light flickering on the screen.

You laugh, finding the effort a tad romantic, and mainly happy to still be able to spend some time with him.

"So, I picked out one of your favorite movies for us to watch. I'll send you a link!" He works something on his keyboard and screen and you wonder if he really knows you well enough to find a favorite of yours.

You click the link he sends and audibly squeal.

"What! I love The Princess Bride! How did you find it?" You hadn't seen it on any streaming service in so long, so you were surprised he could pull it up with ease.

"I have my ways..." Dave says with a small blush then pressing his glasses back up once again.

The two of you chat about your day, you telling him about the wicked snow storm, and how you barely made it home. He tells you about his latest comic he's been reading, and you enjoy hearing his interest in things he's passionate about. Your mug of cocoa warms your hands and you find your little date to be not quite as good as just being together, but the next best thing.

Eventually, you two start the movie by counting down and pressing play at the same time. You get comfortable, and find yourself loving this time together while the wind rages on outside your bedroom windows.

About half way through the movie, you get up to grab a pillow from your bed to get comfortable with, and forget that the camera can see much more than it did before when you walk away from it. You hear Dave's breath catch in your headphones.

"What?" You laugh, still bending over your bed to grab your pillow, ass now completely void of any sweater coverage.

"I-um..." Dave clears his throat nervously, then tries to be a bit suave. "I didn't know you would have worn those to see me tonight, they look good on you..."

Your body freezes and you turn to the camera, where your lingerie is overly apparent. You're not sure if you should be embarrassed or not! Dave is your boyfriend, so of course he's seen you naked before, but something about the fact that it's on camera has you pulling your sweater down and heat in your cheeks.

"Aw, c'mon, you don't have to hide it..." Dave continues, his nerdy voice obviously entranced by your form.

You carefully get back in your seat, not showing anything uncouth anymore.

"Oh my god..." Your face is so red, you wish he couldn't see it right now. "I can't believe I flashed you like that, I'm sorry, I forgot how much this thing can see."

"Hey...I think it's kind of hot that I can see you like that, even when you're far away..." Dave smirks and you have to admit, the thought is starting to turn you on too.

You decide to toy with him, leaning back in your office chair so he can just barely see your thighs. You watch as Dave leans closer to the screen, obviously entranced by your figure. You lift your sweater ever so delicately, slowly revealing those panties that made him so interested in the first place.

"Like this?" You ask coyly, as if you're completely innocent as to what you're doing.

"Y-yes." Dave stammers out, and you think his glasses will practically fog up from how red his cheeks are getting.

"If you want to see more," you say with a smirk playing on your lips. "I think it's only fair I see some of you..."

You didn't think it was possible, but Dave's blush deepens even more. He pulls back a bit from the screen and tries to laugh it off how worked up he is right now.

"O-oh! I mean, I uh..." Dave's hand reaches back and gives his dark curls a toss. "If that's, wh-what you want..."

"Now who's the one being shy?" You say, raising an eyebrow and letting your sweater drop back onto your thighs in protest.

Dave tries to come up with answer to that one, and fails. He clearly wants to see more from you, however, and he repostions his webcam so you can see more of his body. Particually, his lap. Through his jeans, you can see just how hard you've made him with so little. You love how easy it is to rile him up like this.

"Sh-should I do a little striptease for you?" He jokes, but you think that's actually not a half bad idea.

"Maybe...at least take it off slowly..." You reply.

Dave begins to lift his shirt, but you stop him.

"Let's start with your pants. That way, we're even..." You play with the hem of your sweater while giving him your best doe eyes.

He concedes, standing so that most of his waist takes up the camera. You find yourself leaning in now, a wetness growing between your legs as he takes off his belt in such a perfect way. He snaps it jokingly and laughs, but pauses when he sees your reaction.

"What? Should I spank you with this next time I see you?" Dave snaps the belt again and watches as you bite your lip coyly.

"I wouldn't say no..." You say appreciating your boyfriends figure as he slowly unbuttons his jeans.

His confidence continues, and you find yourself being turned on more and more as he unzips and slowly removes his jeans.

"Maybe I will bend you over my knee and treat you like the bad girl you are..." You know he still has a wave of laughing it off just in case you're not into the dirty talk he's starting, but you sense he's also getting into himself, especially with how hard and large his cock looks beneath his underwear.

"I'd like that..." You murmur, entranced by the screen before you. "I think you should tell me how you would punish me if you were here..."

"I would, um..." Dave tries to find the words, working it out. "I would turn you over and spank you until my handprint remains..."

You give a small moan to what he's said, your hands gripping your breasts and thighs over your clothing. You hear Dave's breathing pull in sharply, and you know this must be turning him on as much as you. You pull back your sweater once more, those red panties looking tantalizing on you once more.

"T-that's right... Take more off for me..." Dave's voice wavers as he tries to find a commandeering tone, but you oblige your sweet boyfriend just this once.

"Do you have any uh, toys?" Dave questions you, voice getting huskier by the second.

"Oh...? Why, do you wanna see me play with myself?" Dave is already nodding before you're finished, and you can see the need filling his blue eyes.

You stand, letting him get another view of your ass as you pull your typical toy from your nightstand. You see Dave blush once more as he gets a gander at your large pink dildo.

You sit, opening your legs so Dave can get a good view of your cunt, your red panties already starting to be soaked through. Dave had been rubbing himself over his boxers, but upon seeing so much of you, you watch with excitment as he slowly lets his cock flop out. You know youve seen it before, but his fat cock always surprises you with how girthy and thick it is.

"Take off your sweater." Dave commands, his deep and voice full of want.

You do as he says, realize the air of being unserious about this has shifted. Suddenly, you feel very inclined to do whatever your boyfriend tells you to.

You watch as Dave strokes himself, the tip of his cock growing wet just from seeing your tits fall out of your sweater so nicely. You weren't wearing a bra underneath, so he gets a nice view of them immediately. You hear him hold back a moan, his hands working just a bit faster once he sees your full figure.

"Tell me what you want to do to me..." You whisper into your headset mic, and you watch as Dave struggles between his own pleasure and dirty talking for a moment.

"I...I want to lay you on your bed and fuck you harder than I ever have..." He says it as if he's admitting it to himself his own dominating tendency.

Usually, Dave was pretty submissive in bed, and you liked that about him, but right now, something inside both of you wanted him to be the one to take control. You slide your hands up and down your body, feeling your own tits and pretending it's him.

"I want to be on top and see your face when you take such a big cock..." Dave mutters while biting his lip to keep another moan back.

Your legs feel tingly, and a shiver runs up your spine as you hear such little whimpers from him so close to your ears right now.

"Oh yeah? Tell me more..." You encourage him, and he takes it happily.

"I want to grab you by the neck, and make sure you know that it's me who's fucking you so good... I want to watch you choke a little while I fuck your brains out." You're a bit surprised by his new wants, but you don't mind.

In fact, you wish he would say more, say something really dirty and wrong that he would want to do to you.

"Let me see it..."

You already know what he wants, but your still tease him by slowly dragging your red panties to the side so he can get a good look at your glistening cunt. A groan escapes him when you do.

"Fuck...I need to fuck you so bad..." You love how easy it is to get him here.

"What else would you do?" You let your pretty pink dildo slide up and down your slit, teasing but not entering.

"I want to see you stuffed and filled with my cock, I want to slap away any moans you make from it, even though you can't help expressing how badly you want it..." Dave leans back into his chair as he speaks, hand still working himself, but getting lost in the moment.

"I want you to slap me until my cheeks go red..." You admit, and you can tell by his little sounds how much he wants that too. "Tell me what a dirty whore I am..."

"God, you're such a dirty whore...my personal little slut that I use up when ever I want to." Dave opens his eyes and watches you play with yourself for a moment.

"Put it in. I want you to stretch yourself out on your toy and imagine it's me, slut..." He finally commands you in such a way that there's no thought of even denying him.

Not with how badly you want this right now.

You let your toy slide in deeper to your folds, going past your most precious point, and deeper. You let your legs open wide for the camera, showing off your little cunt taking such a big dildo as yours. Dave watches intently, loving seeing you do exactly what he says, loving seeing you so filled up when he can't do it himself.

"Fuck yourself for me. I want you to moan my name and beg me to let you cum..." Dave is getting closer himself, the tip of his cock red and engorged as he strokes on.

You let your free hand play with your clit, slow circles quickly getting faster and faster as you take more and more of your own pleasure. You fuck yourself deeper, letting your toy really work your cunt in ways only you know feel best. You feel your skin prickling against the cool air now that your sweater cannot warm you against the cold of your apartment. You hit just the right spot inside of yourself, and Dave's name comes from your lips. You imagine it's him, fucking you into this computer chair, his hand around your throat.

"That's it, be a good little fucking slut and show me how you play with yourself..." Dave continues to entice you towards cumming.

"You better not cum without begging me though...you got that, bitch?" You can't believe your sweet, nerdy boyfriend could growl something so mean to you, but that's what makes this even better.

"Yes," You moan, agreeing to his terms.

"Good. You know how to be a proper whore then..." He sighs while he takes a moment to watch you, his own cock wanting nothing more than release right now.

"And if you don't cum for me now, I'll have to edge you relentlessly later." Dave threatens, and you feel yourself getting closer.

"Fuck, Dave..." You squirm in your seat, your cunt overwhelmed and swollen from how much attention you're giving it right now.

"That's right, baby girl..." He encourages you.

"I'm...I'm going to cum..." You whisper as you find yourself coming undone. "Please, please let me cum...!"

Your voice quivers and begs, your body spasming but holding off as you were told. Dave let's you keep it up for a few moments, stroking his own cock harder than ever, before groaning out.

"Cum for me..."

You feel those three magic words work their way against your skin, and suddenly, you're falling over the edge, waves of pleasure across your body, blossoming from your tender cunt. You watch as Dave finds his own pleasure, cum leaking out and eventually shooting down his hand, a low moan escaping his lips. You both ride out your orgasms together, and when you're done, there's nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the snow storm raging outside.

You both take a minute, before agreeing to take a moment to clean up. You both snap off the camera. You trot on liquid legs to your bathroom and for a moment, you can't believe you just did that. You had never had phone sex, let alone letting Dave see you so vulernable with yourself. You're still surprised by his sudden dominating energy, but you find yourself now yearn to enact what you two talked about. You'll have to bring it up next time you're over. You hope he isn't too shy when the camera isn't on.

Eventually you come back to your virtual date night, having a new mug of hot cocoa ready, and half of The Princess Bride to finish. You get the pillow you originally were going for before being sidetracked, and feel cozier and more close to Dave than ever despite the physical distance. Dave doesn't even mind when you fall asleep in your chair just before the credits roll. He leaves his computer on, but snuggles up in his bed, telling you goodnight from there and leaving his headset on to hear your soft breaths.

Maybe the snow storm wasn't so bad after all...

Taglist: @lazyneonrabbitt @nikistan @remuslupinsno1slut @haha-im-dumb @shakedogshake @beep-boop-baby @aesniri @pinkyyy666 @lpeanut-butterl @shrekscrustybudassy @lookatmelookatme @dreary-salem @almostjollypizza @boo8008 @arabellacrybaby @imaslutforcuddles @yasugardaddieshouse @real-sharena-h @stilloverthinking @tvgirlsbluehair @magicalgoopdeanhuman @jazmin25 @sknnylgndsstuff @lenasdmns @iluvkr @d3psta @sinjinpools @whotfistaylor @mut4nts @loser-lover0527 @vselva-blog @adrienette715 @jayjay57 @gildedgwen @izzyisstuff @casuallycruel-tswiftie13 @winter-bearv

[headcanonenthusiast]

COD characters and their opinions on toys

Includes Valeria Garza, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo Parra, Simon Riley, König, Kyle Garrick, John Price and Alex Keller.

All headcanons, besides Valeria's, are gender-neutral.

Ladies, gentlemen and everyone in-between, I got an ask from an anonymous user that gave me an absolutely devilish idea. They suggested a multitude of things, but one thing they requested was another COD characters x reader headcanons, but specifically, how they feel about using toys.

Also, if you've been following me for a while, you'll know that I've never written for Price before. He's literally my grandpa but imma do my best to deliver for you Price lovers 🙏

NSFW under the cut.

Enjoy!

Valeria Garza

-Sooooo, yall know how I said she'd encourage the use of toys when away, but when she's with you she won't let you touch one? She still does that.

-Her view on toys is actually quite positive despite restricting your use of them. She kinda just denies you the right to use any toys she hasn't picked out for you specifically bc it turns her on (and bc she's a bitch ❤)

-If she catches you using a toy that she didn't permit you to use, she'll crank the intensity on said toy up to 100 and basically overstimulate you until you're complaining and crying. (Consensually, ofc. Consent is important y'all 🙏)

-"What did I say about using toys without my permission, hm? That's right-I said not to. But, you didn't listen, did you? No, no, you stop that shit. If you didn't want me to punish you, you never would've picked up that vibrator in the first place."

-Shes absolutely RUTHLESS if you use a toy without her permission.

-But, when it comes to toys she DOES want you to use, she'll either intruct you how to use them or just control the toy herself.

-Personal favorite toy is a vibrator, but she also loves using a strap, but only on you. She'll never let you use any type of strap/dildo on her.

-Will occasionally use a vibrator if you aren't there/in the mood on herself, but will never let you use one on her.

Alejandro Vargas

-If you suggest the use of toys, he'll look at you like 🤨

-"Toys? You wanna start using toys? Am I not enough for you anymore, mi chula/o? (Girl/boy)"

-He'll probably think he's not satisfying you enough if you suggest it, but he's open to trying it after you insist that he's still able to satisfy you.

-When he does try them out with you, they become a staple in your sex life. Specifically a vibrator for each of you to use.

-Does prefer it where it's just you two, though. Sex toys are kinda like a special treat he likes to indulge in on occasion.

-After you introduce him to vibrators, though? He uses them all the time for masterbating.

-May or may not send you videos of him pleasuring himself with the toys yall bought together 🤭

-Also may or may not eventually want to get a vibrator that has his name engraved on it for you, so you can use it whenever he's out on missions :)

Rodolfo Parra

-Kinda like Alejandro, where he only uses them sometimes, but has probably used at least a fleshlight before yall got together.

-He's honestly a sucker for vibrators, but it's become something he only does with you. Won't use them to please himself because he needs to hear your voice for it to feel really good.

-His opinion on toys is more positive as opposed to Alejandro's in the beginning, though. He's perfectly fine with the suggestion and doesn't feel embarrassed when you two (obviously) may not know how to use a specific toy for the first time.

-"Don't worry, amor (love). It's only our first time. If we like it, we'll use it again, and the more we use it, the better it'll feel."

-Very encouraging of you if you wanna buy a new toy. And he doesn't necessarily mind what it is, either. Fleshlights, vibrators, straps, most toys he's open to trying.

-Would totally send you videos (or more so, just the audio) of him using any toys you bought for him. Very vocal about it, too. (I'm a firm believer that Rudy has a voice kink)

-Will occasionally send you links to toys he think you'd like on Amazon or something and be like "if you give me a bj I'll buy you this for Christmas " (you don't have to give him a blowjob. He'll buy it for you anyway)

König

-I feel like he'd be a biiggggg fleshlight enjoyer.

-Would love to use one and pretend it's you when you aren't there.

-He's kinda ehhh about other toys, though. Mostly because his fleshlight satisfies him enough without the addition of others.

-If you wanna use them on yourself, that's fine. König just wants you to be happy.

-But, if you wanna use one on him? May Lord have mercy 🙏

-Will probably manhandle you for the suggestion, pinning you down and punishing you how he sees fit.

-Maybe, when he finally loses all self-respect for himself, he'll try it out.

-"But only once." He says, not willing to admit how much he learns to love vibrators.

-Will totally use one when you aren't home. Wouldn't be caught dead by you with one, though. If he asks you what time you'll be home, there's one of two things going on.

-#1: He just misses you

-#2: He's using a vibrator and wants to know if he has enough time to cum before you get home

John Price

-Not a big toy guy honestly, not even with fleshlights or simpler toys.

-Like...I feel like he'd be okay with trying something like a vibrator or sex doll, but he just won't like it as much.

-"These toys aren't anywhere near as good as you, darling."

-They really just aren't for John, but he doesn't wanna deprive you of using them. Most of the time, anyway.

-Sometimes, he'll catch you with one while he hasn't had the best day and is desperate for you. So, he'll take control of the toy for you, gently edging you before taking you for himself.

-"Can't believe you thought that that little toy could compare to me, love."

-Despite barely using the toys himself, he's the one who insists on washing yours after you use them around him. He knows how sensitive the combination of him and toys must make you, therefore, he doesn't want you to move an inch afterwards.

Kyle Garrick

-He's a big toy enthusiast. Loves them, anything that vibrates in particular. Probably has a cockring.

-Gaz is also more than happy to let you use whatever toys you want. On yourself, on him, he's pretty open to when it comes to the use of sex toys.

-On the occasions where you aren't there, he'll send you a video or picture of him using a toy (Totally not to tempt you home, totally not).

-"Look at what you do to me, baby. Can't keep my hands to myself when you're not here."

-I feel like he'd like mutual masterbation. Just watching you use a toy of your choice is enough to make him cum.

-He'll also place any toys on the bedside table to be washed the next morning (which is important btw❗❗) and may or may not get the biggest smirk on his face seeing whatever mess y'all left behind.

Simon Riley

-Appreciates a good fuck with a fleshlight or pocket pussy.

-But besides those types of toys? Ehhh..

-Not really his thing. Like I said in the Simon specific headcanons, he's not really that crazy when it comes to sex. He's not the type to judge his partner if they use toys, but if they manage to piss him off, I feel like he'd hide them. (Would probably just put it on a high shelf or something if you're shorter 💀💀)

-"You're not getting that stupid toy back. Not till you say sorry."

-Might even tease you with the toy, like drawing it over your dick/pussy and chuckling when you demand he give it back.

-"Oh, you want it back, do ya? No, no, no. Sorry, love, but I think I'd like to see why you like this little thing so much before I hand it over."

Alex Keller

-He loves anything that vibrates.

-Almost as much as he loves you, actually. Uses them religiously whenever you aren't in the mood/there.

-Like Gaz where he likes to use them during sex, but not really with mutual masterbation.

-Instead, he'll have a vibrator or even an anal plug on himself while he eats you out/sucks you off. (Totally moans against your cock/pussy btw, he's fairly vocal 🤭)

-Or, you can use a toy on yourself while you give him a handjob and he'll praise you endlessly for it.

-"Aw, does that feel good, baby? Yeah? Good, good girl/boy."

-At the end of the day, though, he'd much rather be cumming from your touch than a toy. So, he'll put them aside so he can have you all to himself. You're absolutely irresistible to him, afterall. How could he choose a toy over you when you're so perfect in his eyes?

Yall I'm SO sorry that this took me forever. Life has been absolutely slaughtering me, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. Next up will be COD men x male reader headcanons, so be on the lookout for that!

Feel free to ask me what I should do next! My inbox is always open.

[teaboot]

hi. there's something i've been wondering and you give good advice so i thought to ask you. there's a lgbt community center near my work that i want to visit, but i'm aro ace and their website makes no mention of asexuality or aromantism, the center is called 'the LGBTI+ Center' with no A in sight. i'm kind of terrified of going there and being told to my face that ace and aro aren't sexualities and that i don't belong here, and i don't know how to ask 'hey do you believe ace or aro people are queer too?' ... any advice 😥 ? thank you!!

Honestly as far as popular recognition goes AroAce identities are still pretty new for a lot of folks- I'd say it's fully possible that people there just aren't aware of them yet, but if you do choose to heck it out and they're willing to reject you for being the wrong kind of queer then frankly you'll know who to avoid at the very least.

But also IRL queer communities are typically NOT like the internet experience- enough real actual people who have been told to their faces that they aren't actually whatever they are know not to be dicks about things they don't get, and those who haven't figured that out either glom together into a sad little crank pile or get weeded out of social events for being goddamn miserable to be around.

In my experience most groups like that are pretty chill but idk prepare for the worst and hope for the best is usually a safe go-to- bring a friend, if you can! (Though I'd say inclusion of the "+" in there is a pretty good green flag- it kinda acknowledges that there are more real queer identities than would otherwise fit on a sign, right?)

Also idk, I figure I might be aroace myself maybe but we haven't figured that one out yet

Def a valid ID tho no question there 👌

[rubberduckyrye]

You know I've seen quite a few people say they're wanting to make v3 rewrites lately--and as someone who is actively working on one by myself, I feel like I should give some advice. I know I'm nowhere NEAR done with Twins AU, but I've made a ridiculous amount of progress and I think these things have greatly helped me out personally

So here are my tips for making a V3 rewrite and actually making it stick/not to burn out before the first chapter!

This is important. Don't try to please everyone. You will never please everyone. Write this for yourself, and you will find an audience. People can and will hate your fic no matter what you do. Don't try to please them, they are not your target audience-- so Write this story for, first and foremost, yourself. It'll feel so much more rewarding if you do I promise.

V3's main theme is extremely muddied due to how the narrative was and how open ended the game was left, and from my own research, no one can agree on what V3 was trying to say about truth and lies, or Reality and Fiction. If you want to rewrite this story, you're going to need to narrow down what you want your rewrite to say about the themes presented.

PLAN THE EVIDENCE AND MURDERS AS THOROUGHLY AS YOU CAN. I think not knowing what I was going to do for the cases and trials really scared me for the longest time until I essentially sat myself down and fleshed out all of the cases for Twins AU. Make evidence lists, do research on how your murder cases might go, the works. It's a lot of work but I personally followed this post and also made an evidence list to help me out plot out the murders for Twins AU. This is also a great way to flesh out your protagonist as well, since you get to explore their note-taking style and what kind of language they'd use for taking notes and if they have opinions about certain things.

Write a summary of each character in the story. DR games have a big cast and V3 has an even BIGGER cast than usual, so it's good to write down summaries for all of the characters. I also suggest really studying each character too, even if you plan on changing a character to better suit your tastes (or to get rid of offensive material.... looking at you Angie) you still want to keep the core of their character intact for fans of that character.

Speaking of characters, make sure to try and remember to write each one as a human being, even if they aren't human (Kiibo for example). Develop them, give them quirks and flaws, motivations and wants and desires and dreams. Even if you hate a character, doing this much character study will help you keep them in character and keep their motivations reasonable and understandable.

If you don't have a good grasp on a character, study harder. Don't go looking for other people's interpretations or try to be a crowd pleaser. Make your own interpretation, and that interpretation becomes special to your rewrite.

If you plan on changing a character, for the love of GOD do your research first. Don't go accidentally making Angie into a worse racist caricature of Pacific Islanders Please and Thank You. Actually, just do a ton of research in subject you think might be relevant to a character or the plot--like Gonta and how ableism prevails in his story. Like how Shuichi has anxiety up the wazoo and how Maki has learned helplessness. Study and research hard.

Pace yourself--I don't think people realize how GIANT a V3 rewrite project is--remember that this game is extremely long and you cannot write this in a single month. Once all of your planning is done, write a reasonable amount for it each day. For me, I'm able to crank out 2k a day because I type absurdly fast, but most people would probably want to start at maybe 500 words a day.

If you're not having fun, step back. You might be burnt out and need a break, or maybe the scene you're writing is just not working. Take time to assess your own feelings and do what is appropriate to resolve them.

Don't feel too discouraged if you need to rewrite a whole scene--it happens to the best of us and sometimes things are just not working. It's not lost progress to retry--consider the scene you are replacing as a rough draft you need to remake. I've had to erase huge 1k chunks due to this.

Reward yourself for big accomplishments! When I finished the prologue, I threw myself and my editor ( @trans-shuichisaihara ) a pizza party, and I plan on doing something like that again, albeit probably cheaper. Reward yourself for huge milestones! Hell, I owe myself at least one treat for two chapters I've written, but tbh I've been having so much fun just writing that doing so is rewarding within itself. That doesn't mean external factors can't help, so if you finish a chapter and you're proud of it, buy yourself a treat for working so hard!

If you got a friend who likes editing/beta reading, invite them to beta read for you! They can help you find errors and typos that you might've missed. If you plan on editing your fic, I highly recommend reading your writing out loud to help you find weird sentence structures and awkward phrases. This should have the bonus of making it easier for people who use screen readers/just prefer audiobooks to enjoy your fic as well!

EDIT! Here are two more:

It's okay to be scared writing something new! Getting out of your comfort zone is going to happen with a giant story like this, and maybe you're going to flop at the best parts. That's perfectly fine!!! You can always edit it later--or even just call it "good enough" and move on! This is fanfic for fun, not a professional project you're making money off of. It's okay if things are less than ideal and incredible imperfect. An imperfect story is at least written. That's better than not writing it at all.

For the love of everything that is holy, remember that the characters should be people--and remember that their talents do not make up their entire personality. Their talents should not solely dictate what they wear, how they act, or the worst offender in this fandom--how their executions go. When writing a character Execution, think instead of what would be the worst way for that character to die--that is to say, what would bring them the most despair upon their death. DR1 and DRV3's executions all play with the despair of the blackened in each execution (with DR2 being noted to heavily miss the mark and to be the set of executions that are the most disappointing to Kodaka, from what I've been told.) So if you're stuck on writing a new Execution, try to think about what each execution from DR1 and DRV3 does to play with the despair of the blackened. What about their executions are giving them despair in their final moments? Do they at all relate to their talents, or are they completely separate from their talent? Study them, and you'll be able to use that information to write your own unique executions that are miles better than most of the fan made executions out there.

And I think that's my advice for now! Happy writing, everyone!

[thewebcomicsreview]

I'm hardly the first person to notice this, but good god webcomics are the least time-efficient possible way of telling a story, aren't they?

I've been trying to figure out a better method of telling a story so that I could finish it before I die of old age (or, perhaps more relevantly, before everyone loses interest). It seems like no one really wants to read prose on the internet, but also people don't really like a comic that takes a year to go anywhere.

The main bottleneck is dialogue. You can only get 2-3 lines in a standard comic panel, so even a short conversation of character texture can take several pages. It makes me wonder if the Single Panel With Text Beneath It style (like ForEach) isn't just the Objectively Correct™ way to tell a comic on the internet. It's very efficient on the art, you can include narration if that's your jam, and it's very easy to make it work on mobile. (Also the art being separate is a boon if you want to make marketing materials). But everyone will correctly call you a Homestuck rip off.

Though the other thing Homestuck did was make these sprites of the characters that could be used to crank out a bunch of panels for scenes where nothing visually interesting was happening. You don't really see that copied as much

Not openly, anyway. There's a stigma. I've thought about rebooting Legend of the Hare as a visual novel, where that kind of thing is arbitrarily more accepted, but it does start raising the question of why you're bothering with the visuals at all. I don't think the kind of person who makes webcomics is usually looking for an excuse to get out of drawing, even if it lets them increase their page output dramatically. Making sprites that don't look like absolute ass is also really hard. Homestuck sprites have a really specific janky charm to them that I've never really seen any other comic pull off.

And, yeah, you could always just use a simpler art style, like Order of the Stick does, but it's super hard to get anyone to read a webcomic with great art, let alone simple art designed to maintain a high page output. And, again, why are you making a comic if you don't want to draw, unless you just naturally happen to draw that way and be really fucking good at it like Rich Burlew is?

It seems like the only really good way to tell a story in a reasonable amount of time as a webcomic artist is to make enough money off it that you can work full time, and, um, that's not really feasible either.

I don't have an answer I like. I guess just kill yourself in the content mines working webcomics as a second job that doesn't pay you anything.

I don't have a conclusion, capitalism is a nightmare.

[lazyscience]

So for my followers who come with a factory-installed uterus I know you're concerned about your health and autonomy. And you well should be

But here's something all of you should be thinking about and planning for no matter what your plumbing - if Trump goes through with putting RFK Jr. in a position of power as far as the Department of Health and Human Services, he could do a LOT of damage as far as vaccines. Vaccines are not super profitable for pharma companies, despite what cranks think; they take a LOT of development for only a few uses. Vaccines are driven by public health requirements and a lot of places would shrug and say "ok, bet" if there isn't a guaranteed market for them.

The professional medical community will still have recommendations about when and how to vaccinate, but they won't have the force of law, and insurance will probably smell blood in the water and start kicking up a fuss about covering vaccines when they're not required. So then when doctors recommend them there'll be suspicion and pushback that they're just doing it for "kickbacks" even though the only doctor who would have gotten paid for vaccine is ironically Andrew Wakefield, the lying fuckshit, because his whole "vaccines cause autism" lie was to push his OWN, SPECIAL proprietary vaccines that wouldn't cause his made-up syndrome, because NO vaccines were causing it. May he roast somewhere warm when the devil comes for him.

This will not happen immediately, but. Because there will no doubt be anticipatory compliance on the part of drug companies and healthcare systems. I HIGHLY advise you get the fuck out there and get your Tdap updated (tetanus, diptheria and pertussis). Whooping cough is out there, and it is horrible for babies. If you are eligible for shingles vaccine and haven't done it, get that. Get your COVID vax if you haven't, there might not BE another one, at least not that's available in the US.

If you have kids, especially make sure THEY'RE up to date because their classmates might very well not be mandated to get them any more - state regulations will undoubtedly vary, but with the current composition of the Court, it will rule in favor of every possible exemption for antivaxxers as possible because the conservatives are all "fuck the weakest of us, I got mine fuck you." And expect idiocy like "pox parties" to spread (not like the average suburban parent can tell measles from rubella from chicken pox from hand foot and mouth by fuckin' looking at it, who knows what the christ they're going to be passing around). Measles is NOT just a "bit of a rash." Rubella is the world's leading preventable cause of birth defects. Chickenpox can result in scarring, encephalitis causing blindness or even death, and the risk of shingles later in life. I have a cousin who would be 57 this year who died as a toddler from hemophilus influenzae strain B meningitis, one of those "too many" childhood vaccines that were invented in the 1990s. Tell my aunt that's too many vaccines -oh, wait, you can't, she fucking killed herself out of grief her baby died.

tweens? get them the HPV vaccine if they haven't gotten it (given its associations with sex it'll probably be one of the first to go, but it prevents CANCER. who wants their child to get cervical cancer, or penile cancer, or throat cancer, or rectal cancer? IT PREVENTS CANCER. JUST DO IT.)

Similarly, if you have a child with any kind of immune issue that precludes vaccination, I would very much look into homeschooling, because bye-bye herd immunity.

If you have teenage kids, encourage them to update their Tdap and get the meningiococcal meningitis vaccine if they haven't been mandated to already by campus policy. Tetanus and meningitis aren't common, but they are frequently permanently life-altering when they're not fatal. We're talking months in the hospital. I'm old enough that I remember people fucking dying in college, and the panic that went around campus every time one of those breakouts happened in the state wondering if it would make its way to our campus.

Stay safe out there. I have no idea what this will do to our already teetering healthcare system but I don't think it'll be pretty. Everybody pray Trump pulls his usual scam and hangs RFK Jr. out to dry, because while the plutocrats consider regulations an unnecessary burden, they don't have a stake in creating a public health state of emergency when we already have a workforce not keeping up with demand, unlike Captain Convenient Brain Worm.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for not making any of my characters, that I have to crank out daily, pansexual/polysexual/omnisexual specifically and only making them bi?

🏳️‍🌈👶🏼 so i can recognize this later lmao also I'm not panphobic or anything, this isn't about the validity of the label, pan is fine.

So i (20snb bi) have a project I'm working on where I take all the characters from a specifc media I'm into and pair them up with each other to make every possible ship kid from every possible ship(excluding characters who are kids themselves or are related or something, that shit is gross). Basically taking every character and pairing them up with another and creating a kid I think they'd have. Its a big project with lots of characters and I'm easily over 400 at this point. I really enjoy this, even if I'm not even 25% complete.

However I set a schedule for myself that at least one ship kid needs to come out each day which, considering I draw them, color them and give them some development and some even have siblings, (The refs themselves easily take me an hour to an hour and a half) I have to make lots of them quickly to keep up with my daily grind. I've been doing this project for over a year and although it's stressful, I can get them out quickly with breaks for myself.

Their character sheets all have some pretty basic info like their name, gender, pronouns, personality and more but it also includes their sexuality/orientation. I have a pretty basic list of options for what their sexuality will be: straight, lesbian, gay, Enbian, bi, Aro, ace and aroace with a few random things like polyam, WLW and a good amount of the something-loving-something/juvelic terms. I did this because, well, there's not many entirely unique orientations outside of them and although I love mogai/xenogenders and complex identities, I dont want to potentially drag up discourse or bring problems to my budding art blog over it. Its just not worth it to me to turn something I really care about on its head, even if I like microlabels.

In this case, I'm using bi as an umbrella term as most of the other terms share the same definition with slight variations in wording or action but not much difference in practice. We all like everyone, it's basic stuff. However, apparently this is a problem.

I've gotten one or two anons asking me questions about my guides asking some kind stuff like is this lesbian ship kid a butch or femme or Is this picture of them now or just at the age you put on the ref and other harmless stuff. Then things got rude with some Nbphobia but thrice now I've gotten asks:

1. Asking snarkily if im a panphobe

2. insulting me for not specifically writing pan or Omni and just writing bi.

3. Saying that I "clearly dont care about pansexual representation." Then brought up how my primary oc is native american so i clearly care about representation but that oc used to be a sona and I'm native?? Its confusing. (And Lowkey racist shit to just assume any native character is a "diversity quota" character instead of just a person existing but I digress-)

Im not pan, im bi so ig these people assume I'm not cool with pan people which isnt true? I have nothing aginest them, they are just pretty similar and I dont feel like it matters if they are specfically bi or pan or poly or any other label. I don't go into details like that for any other sub-group, not even pronouns and I included combinations and some common Neopronouns. I understand the importance of representation but my project has less than 50 people looking at it every day, Im not netflix or something. I'm one guy on the most LGBT blogging site with a big project and very little audience, I'm not showing people who wouldn't already know what pan is that pansexuality exists.

This project isn't that deep considering the characters in question aren't human/dont have human characteristics.(no it's not hazbin/helluva) Also ive never spoken about lgbt discourse or stated anything remotely close to it beyond the guides just passively having characters who are an LGBT identity. I've not even mentioned all the potentional orientations they could have so I'm not sure where/why this came up in the first place. The most politcial things ive said are calling out a creator in my fandom who outed themselves as a transphobe and mentioning im pro-palestine. That's it.

I mean this is pretty low stakes, I can just block these people and be done with it and this some seriously online shit but I just wanna check.

Am I being an asshole for just writing bi instead of specifying their mspec label because I have to produce characters quickly and I don't see enough of a difference to warrant a change/specification that would ultimately slow and clog an already stressful and complex project?

I dont think I am but idk lol

What are these acronyms?

[tosuckmyweenis]

Just wanted to share a thought but infinite darkness older Leon is 100% the kind of man to buy his girl those vibrating panties as a “romantic” gift and also take full advantage of the fact that he has the remote for it and abuse his power

That is all

Anytime!! Anywhere!!! Absolutely!!

I tried to write a full fic, but I had a few ideas and couldn't decide; the worms aren't worming yet, so enjoy these bits and bobs for now Anon 💕

It's in a slightly weird formatting, but I hope it doesn't bother too much. I'm kind of on the fence about these because i read them over too much but fuck it we ball.

In public while doing mundane tasks?!

The only day Leon is home is, of course, the day you chose to get all your errands done; he only tags along once he convinces you that today would be the perfect day to test out that little gift he got you, wagging the remote in one hand and the black lace in the other. After all, he sounded so convincing, and with that smirk plastered on his perfect face, you weren't going to say no.

Starting off with just the lowest setting on the way to the first store with the reassurance that he'd be on his best behaviour.

Staying close behind you, staring shamelessly at your ass while you're pushing the cart in some grocery store, making your way through the isles trying to grab the box of cereal you needed off the top shelf, he refuses to help.

Waiting until you're on your tippy toes before cranking the power up to max. He loves how your body jerks in shock at the sudden intensity and clamping your hand over your mouth and the inside of your cheek to stop a moan from slipping out. Then, he takes the opportunity to press himself against you to grab the item before leaning down and whispering into your ear. 

"Careful, Sweetheart, You wouldn't want to cause a scene, would you?" Finally lowering it once he tosses the box in the cart, continuing to do the same thing for every item you reach for over and over, never letting you cum though

"Why should I risk letting other people see your pretty face? It's meant for my eyes alone. Although, you'd probably like that, wouldn't you?"

Finally, getting everything you need and checking out, loading everything into the back of the jeep. 

He'd just hand you a bag, and when you bend over to put it away, smack your ass, and when you turn to yell at him, he's just leaning on the side, holding the remote and turning it up with a shit-eating grin. 

"Leon, please," shamelessly begging him at this point, your legs finally giving out.

"Sorry, what was that? Please, what?" 

"Please let me cum, s'too much; I need to" 

"Since you asked so nicely, I'll give you what you want." 

Deciding to go early in the morning before rush hour was the smartest decision you made that day.

At home while you do chores?!

Doing chores was at the bottom of your list of things you wanted to do today, but things needed to get done, and you refused to ask Leon for help; the poor man works enough as it is and deserves to relax a little.

You were grumbling about it until he brought up a little positive reinforcement, which is how you ended up with a death grip on the edge of the kitchen sink.

You lost count of just how many times you came so far, panting like you just ran a mile, legs trembling, barely able to hold weight anymore.

Staring at the back of his head while watching a movie, his arm lazily tossed over the back of the couch, his thumb mindlessly moving the controls around in no particular rhythm, periodically stopping to give you a break before resuming.

"I don't hear any dishes being washed."

Rinse and repeat until you're just a crying, overstimulated mess.