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agreeeeeeeeeee · 18 days ago

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Christmas Karaoke | E.M.

He wasn't a Christmas guy, being the town freak and his all together hatred of capitalist bullsh*t, but when he saw you smile like that, your eyes dancing like the twinkle bulbs, he thought maybe he could be.

feat. Eddie Munson x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go out to Christmas karaoke with your friends Robin, Steve, Vickie, and Eddie and get a little wild, liquid courage and some classic carols giving you the push you need to claim your man.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, eddies pov, drinking/getting drunk, protective!eddie, mentions of blood/fighting, eddie is the sweetest (and filthiest) man alive, oral (f&m), dirty talk

Eddie flipped down the visor on the van, checking his hair and making sure he didn't have an spaghetti sauce on his chin from dinner at Wayne's. The van was idling outside your door, thick clouds of steam obscuring the outside world.

He was picking you up for Christmas Karaoke with Steve, Robin, and Vickie at the Hideout. It was a normal thing, he'd picked you up countless times for countless reasons, so why the fuck were his hands shaking on the steering wheel?

He clenched his hands, knuckles white and rings digging into his skin, and tried to take a deep breath. Things had started to change for him over the summer, after Eddie got into a fight with a handsy lifeguard at the pool.

He wasn't a violent man, truly. But when that fucker put his hands on your skin, glowing in the afternoon sun and dripping with chlorinated water, and your face screwed up with disgust and fear, he saw red.

It took an hour to clean the blood from his rings, and you'd been gracious enough to help him. Cramped into the trailer bathroom, scrubbing at his Cthulhu ring with some Palm Olive and an old toothbrush, your brow crinkled in concentration.

Now, he couldn't even wash the fucking dishes without thinking of you.

Every since that afternoon, he was a nervous wreck around you, clumsy and awkward, though you were too sweet to ever comment on it. You were oblivious to the change in him, at least as far as he knew.

He flipped up the visor and sagged into his seat, turning that Cthulhu ring on his middle finger. It was just karaoke, he could do this—

“Hey, Eds!” You chirped, tugging open the van door and climbing in.

His greeting died in his throat when he saw your outfit. Leather mini shirt and ripped tights, heavy boots, eyeliner…and what had to be the ugliest patchwork Christmas sweater he'd ever seen.

But somehow, you made it look sexy as fuck.

“What? Too much?” You asked, pulling at the hem of your sweater with a smirk.

Eddie clapped a hand over his eyes, letting go of the wheel. “You're gonna have to drive, babe. My eyes have melted from the hideousness.”

You laughed, the sound like Christmas bells, and swatted his arm. “It's not that bad! Robin helped me!”

“It's grotesque.” He smiled, dropping his hands to start driving. “And I love it—”

“You do?” You beamed so brightly, he almost didn't finish his sentence.

“Sure! The way I love “Night of the Walking Dead”, or when Ozzy bit the head off that bat—”

“Ha ha, go fuck yourself.” You stuck your tongue out at him and he huffed a laugh.

“I'm teasing you,” he chuckled, adjusting the radio to your preferred station. “It's perfect. And only you could pull of that kind of monstrosity.”

You smiled, settling into your seat, and cranked up the music.

It took a concerted effort for Eddie to keep his eyes on the road. The color splashed against your skin was so pretty, and the soft smile on your face every time he passed a particularly elaborate house made his heart forget how to beat.

He wasn't a Christmas guy, being the town freak and his all together hatred of capitalist bullshit, but when he saw you smile like that, your eyes dancing like the twinkle bulbs, he thought maybe he could be.

“So, will we get a Corroded Coffin performance?” You asked, jarring him from his fantasies.

He snorted. “Unlikely.”

“I’m sorry, you, Eddie Munson, who sings more than he speaks, aren't going to participate in karaoke?”

“It's not like Judas Priest has a Christmas song,” he chuckled. “I don't have the range for Sinatra. Though I'm flattered you think so.”

“What if I pick it for you?” You asked, batting those pretty eyes at him.

He sighed, thunking his head back against the headrest. “Stop lookin’ at me like that, it's not fair.”

“Like what?” You tilted your head, glossed lips pursing slightly.

He wanted to sink his teeth into that pout, see a sticky ring of your lip gloss around his—

“Fine, fuck. One song.”

“Yay!” You leaned across the seat, planting a smacking kiss on his cheek, and he nearly swerved off the road in his shock. “You won't regret this.”

“I don't believe that for a second, sweetheart,” he said, praying you chalked his blush up to the multi-colored lights.

“Oh god, not you too,” Steve said when you bound towards him through the crowd, Eddie on your heels.

“You love it, Harrington,” you teased, stealing the beer in his hand and taking a few, long gulps. Steve and Eddie’s eyes met over your head, both wide with surprise.

“Woah there!” Robin said, appearing to Steve’s left, dressed in an equally ugly sweater. “That kind of night?”

You set the now mostly empty beer on the counter. “Yep. What's a Mistletoe Mayhem?” You called out to Nick, the bartender.

Nothing good, Eddie thought.

“Green and sparkly,” the bartender replied.

“Perfect,” you grinned, slapping your ID on the counter.

“Make that two!” Robin chimed in, and Steve groaned.

“I want one!” Vickie emerged from the dance floor, also wearing a hideous sweater, though it was tied around her waist.

“Three Mayhem's coming up,” Nick chuckled, skimming ids before passing them back and moving down the bar.

“And can I get another beer? No? Alright,” Steve sighed, leaning back against the bar. “What's up, Munson?” He said, waving Eddie over.

Eddie tore his eyes away from where you were gushing with Vickie over the bars tiny Christmas tree and moved towards Steve.

“Oh, nothing. Kids have been asking me to put together a festive quest for our session tomorrow. Best I can do is Krampus.”

Steve chuckled, smiling when the pretty female bartender slid him and Eddie some beers. “Not into Christmas, huh?”

“Are you?”

“Nah, Mom was always the Hallmark family Christmas type, just felt so phony, y’know?”

“I do. Poor Harrington with his mountains of presents and immaculately decorated house,” Eddie teased, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t a mountain.”

“Oh, I apologize. A rather large hill of presents.”

“Three Mayhem's up!” Nick called, and the three of you bound out of the crowd like puppies called for dinner. Nick set down three fishbowls full of green, glittery liquid, topped with cranberries and limes, and a sprig of mistletoe.

Steve wrinkled his nose. “That looks dangerous.”

Eddie agreed, but held his tongue.

You took a big sip, needing two hands to hold the giant glass, and immediately pulled a face before unleashing a hundred kilowatt grin. “Very dangerous,” you hummed, taking another sip, and Eddie felt his cock twitch to life at the wicked gleam in your eye.

It was going to be a long night.

Karaoke began half an hour later, with Steve and Robin kicking things off with a dramatized rendition of “Baby, It's Cold Outside.”

Eddie was following you around the bar like a shadow, scaring away anyone foolish enough to look at you twice. But you were none the wiser, already buzzed and dancing around like a Christmas elf on crack.

You were already one Mayhem deep, and he bribed Nick to tell you they were out of the mix to spare the consequences of a second. But you just ordered a double margarita instead, so his efforts, and $20, were forfeit.

But Eddie was more than happy to be your guard dog for the evening, so long as you were having fun and safe. It's what any good friend would do. But when he ran into Gareth and they started talking about the new Slayer album, he lost track of you.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, surveying the crowd for your sweater. But with the fog and throbbing multi-colored lights, it was impossible to see anything clearly. “Excuse me,” he said, interrupting Gareth in the middle of a sentence.

He bee-lined to the high top where your friends sat.

“There he iiissss!” Robin yelled, waving her beer glass in the air. “Where ya been Edward-ed-son?”

“Have you seen y/n?” He asked, mostly to Steve, who appeared to be the only other sober person on the entire establishment.

“Thought you had her.” Steve shrugged. “Got my hands full.” He nodded towards Robin and Vickie, who were now loudly singing along to the karaoke.

“I did, but then Gare—”

The crowd erupted in applause as the song ended, cutting Eddie off.

“That was greeeaaat, Tina. Now, let's welcome y/n singing a classic, ‘Santa Baby’!”

Eddie whirled around to the stage and your friends burst into cheers. You sauntered out in your little skirt and insane sweater, grinning ear to ear as the spotlight swung towards you.

“Found her,” Steve chuckled, pulling out the chair beside him for Eddie.

Eddie dropped into it, rolling his eyes and laughing. He should have known. “What's ‘Santa Baby'?” Eddie asked as the song started.

Steve gave him a sympathetic look and clapped him on the back. “Oh, you'll see.”

You stepped up to the mic, the one Eddie's used on countless occasions, and wrapped your little hands around it. Something about it being his mic your lips were so close to made the primitive part of his brain purr with delight, and he relaxed into his seat, hiding his growing erection under the table.

Steve slid his beer to Eddie, who took a grateful sip, his mouth dry as the desert.

“Santa Baby, just slip a Sable under the tree, for me,” you sang, your voice breathy and so sweet. “Been an awful good girl.”

Your eyes locked on Eddie and he nearly choked, his cock lurching painfully against his jeans, heart pounding in his ears.

Surely you didn't mean to look directly at him, right? He had a habit of searching you out during shows too, you were probably just mirroring that. Looking for a familiar face in a sea of strangers.

“Santa Baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.” You dragged your hands down the mic stand, swaying your hips to the music, and Eddie thought he might faint.

He maybe would have, if it wasn't for the roaring men pushing towards the front of the stage drawing his attention.

But your eyes were still locked on him, ignoring them entirely, and he gave you an encouraging thumbs up. He wasn't about to let his stupid crush, or a bunch of leering creeps, ruin your fun.

You kept singing, your voice a little wobbly, but airy in that way that made his pants tighten and his mind wander to places it definitely shouldn't. You looked so beautiful up there, laughing and swaying to the music, that Eddie found himself smiling too.

“Lookin’ a little lovesick there, Eds,” Steve teased, nudging him with his elbow.

Eddie waved him off. “Nah, just making sure she has someone that isn't a perv to look at.”

Steve nodded, popping some nuts into his mouth. Steve was the only friend of theirs that seemed to clock Eddie's shift in demeanor, though he mostly kept it to himself. Eddie knew he knew, and Steve knew that Eddie knew he knew, and that was good enough.

You wrapped up the song with a flourish, doing a little curtsy in your mini skirt, and Eddie cheered as loud as he could, ensuring you heard him over the roar of douche bags.

He jumped up, rushing to meet you at the edge of the stage before someone else could, adjusting himself as went. The crowd parted and there you were, bright as the morning sun, bounding down the stairs and into his arms.

“I did it!” You cried.

“You were amazing,” he murmured, lifting you up and spinning your around. It was totally platonic, but the rest of these fucks didn't know that.

“Phew, what a show. Next up we have a familiar face! Eddie Munson of our very own Corroded Coffin singing ‘Blue Christmas’!”

You squealed in delight and Eddie's jaw dropped. “Go, go!” You shoved against his back, pushing him up the stairs as someone handed him a guitar.

“Figured you didn't need the track, yeah?” Danny, the stagehand said with a grin.

“I don't know this shit, man,” Eddie protested, but Danny rolled his eyes.

“I'll play it in the background, you'll pick it up!”

Suddenly Eddie was in the spotlight, and you were jumping up and down on the side stage. It was far from an atypical experience for him, but butterflies still churned in his stomach. He never got used to you watching him perform, even if it was something as silly as Christmas karaoke. The pressure to impress you was paralyzing, but if it would make you happy…

The track started rolling softly in the background, and he focused on his fingers, finding the simple chord and replicating it with relative ease. The audience cheered even louder, and he smirked to himself.

He risked a glance over at you, confident he had a handle on the notes, and you were practically glowing with joy.

Shit, maybe Corroded Coffin needed to add some Christmas song to their set.

Words started to roll across the small screen at his feet, and he stepped up to the mic, absolutely delighted to find a smear of your lipgloss on the net.

“I’ll have a blue Christmas, without you,” he crooned, putting on his best Elvis impression, and the roar of the ladies was deafening. “I'll be so blue just thinking about you.” He let his eyes wander back to you at the end of the lyric, wondering if you understood just how close this song hit home for him.

You were grinning ear to ear, swaying happily to the music. Oblivious.

“You’ll be doing all right, with your Christmas of white. But I'll have a blue, blue blue blue Christmas,” he continued, finding that he did, in fact, know this song despite his earlier assertion.

C’mon, who didn't know Elvis?

Thankfully, it was an incredibly brief song, and he finished off with a freestyle riff, earning another cacophony of drunken cheers.

He bowed and hustled of the stage to where you waited for him, arms open. He held the guitar behind his back and scooped you up around the waist with his free arm, lifting your feet off the ground.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, wafting your sweet perfume and the bitter sting of alcohol over him. “That was amazing!” You gushed.

“Thanks, sweetheart. But you were better,” he replied, passing Danny the guitar. He started to carry you down the steps, but you shook your head.

“Wanna go backstage,” you murmured against his ear, and his heart stopped.

He pulled his head back to look at you, eyebrows raised. “Backstage? Why?”

You worried your lip between your teeth, eyes like melting honey. “Please, Eddie baby?”

He could do nothing but obey, backing up the steps and ducking behind the curtain with you still in his arms. He shifted his hold you, your legs wrapping around his waist, mini skirt pushing up to enough to give him a glimpse of the cherry red of your panties.

You dragged your nails down his shoulders, your lips finding his throat and leaving soft, sticky kisses along his jugular vein that may as well have been along his cock for how intense the contact felt.

“Honey,” he grunted, stopping to press you against a dressing room door. “How drunk are you?” he panted, eyes crossing when your tongue laved over his pulse, your teeth grazing his pierced lobes.

“Not too drunk, I promise,” you said, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Been wanting this for so long, Eddie, please—”

He swallowed your sweet words with a kiss, tentative at first, but quickly devolving into a sloppy mess, your cherry flavored lip gloss and the lingering taste of cranberry vodka flipping a switch in his brain that had his long-held control unraveling. This was his one shot to impress you, his one shot to get you as addicted to him as he was to you, and he was not about to fuck it up.

Eddie was the town freak, and dating him came with all the baggage of that title. But he’d show you the benefits of it, too.

He had to make like Santa Clause and fucking deliver.

With a quick turn of his wrist, he opened the door to the dressing room and carried you through. He dropped you onto the leather chaise before climbing up your body, capturing your lips in another hungry kiss. Your tongue probed at his lower lip and he opened for you, your smaller muscle licking curiously along the inside of his mouth, when he felt the tip of it brush the warm metal of his tongue piercing.

You gasped, apparently having forgotten about that particular modification, and pride blazed through his chest like an inferno.

He leveraged your surprise to turn the power into his favor, driving his tongue into your mouth, feeling drunk himself on the intoxicating taste of your drool. He dragged the piercing over the roof of your mouth and you shivered, your hips rising to press against his thigh.

He pressed his leg harder against your deliciously warm cunt and you whimpered, you hips rolling in a more deliberate motion. He brought one of his hands down to grip your hip, his rings digging into your soft flesh as he helped you ride his thigh.

“How long you been wanting this, baby? Huh?” He rasped against your ear, hearing your breath hitch. “Barely touched you and look, so desperate already.”

Your hands curled against his shirt, your hips stuttering against his thigh as the pleasure mounted, your slick starting to seep through your panties onto his jeans. “Fuck, feels s’good,” you whined, burying your face into his neck.

“Yeah? Little pussy getting nice and wet for me? Such a good girl. Look so sexy riding my thigh.” He encouraged, noting the way his words made your hips move incrementally faster, the filth spurring you on.

Despite thoroughly enjoying the sight of you dry humping his leg, his mouth watered for something even sweeter.

He moved his thigh back, the denim wet with your honey, and he lowered to his knees on the ground. “Can I taste, sugar? You’re not the only one that's been waiting ages for this.” He started kissing up your inner thighs, wet and loud smacks on your tender skin as he moved closer to your sopping panties.

“Please, Eds, wanna feel you,” you panted, spreading your thighs wider for him like an angel opening heaven’s gates.

His heart gave an elated thump. How could this be real life? Here he was, moments from devouring your drooling, pink pussy and you were saying his name like that? Asking to feel his tongue against you? Maybe he really had gone to fucking heaven.

“Fuck, so pretty. So fucking perfect.” He dragged his tongue over the clingy fabric of your panties, sucking the material into his mouth to taste you. His eyes rolled back in his head—so fucking sweet.

With deft fingers, he slid them down your legs and stuffed them in his back pocket, before settling back between your legs.

You were trembling with anticipation, worrying your lips between your teeth as you watched him through your painted lashes. With a flattened tongue, he licked from your entrance to your clit, feeling the heat, the velvet softness of your slit without obstruction.

You keened, throwing your head back onto the arm of the couch when he swirled the tip around your clit, flicking his piercing over the sensitive bud.

Shit, he could do this forever. Just live between your legs, making music with the most beautiful instrument he'd ever played: you.

With two fingers, he dipped into the pool of slick at your entrance, lubricating himself before easing them inside, watching your face over the stretch of your body for signs of discomfort. But you only continued to moan, already looking gorgeously wrecked.

He worked you with his tongue and fingers, finding that spongy spot inside you that made you sing, and let himself get lost in the rhythm, the mind-numbing bliss of pleasuring you.

“Eddie baby, fuck. M’getting close,” you whined, and he could feel the truth of your statement, your walls starting to twitch and clench around his fingers, your clit swelling under his tongue.

“That's it, sugar. Come all over my tongue, wanna drown in you—”

You cry drowned out his words, the cunt clenching hard around his aching fingers, a fresh gush of honey soaking his palm and chin. Pride soared through him, and he greedily lapped up every drop you released for him, watching your body twitch and writhe while you came down.

“You’re a goddamn dream, baby. Did so well f’me,” he cooed, easing his fingers out of you and cleaning them with his tongue before placing a final kiss on your puffy clit.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you panted, pulling him up onto the couch with shaky arms. “You're too good at that.” You leaned in for a kiss, dragging your tongue over his lips before smushing your lips together in a quick, sloppy press.

“Thank you, honey,” he hummed, feeling like a damn king. The luckiest bastard alive.

But then you shifted off the couch, settling on your knees between his thighs, and his brain turned off.

“What are you—” His words fractured into a strangled moan when you dragged your tongue over the hard swell of his cock, separated by the rough fabric of his jeans.

You continued to mouth at his bulge while undoing his belt with quick little fingers, unzipping his jeans. He reached into his boxers and freed himself, still half-dazed by the sight of you on your knees for him in a dirty, dive bar dressing room.

He was painfully hard, the head and angry red and leaking, his balls already tight and hot. And you, being the sweet thing you are, didn't waste a second, popping the head into your mouth and sucking the precum from his skin.

Your mouth was scalding, melting his mind at the wet pliancy of your tongue and cheeks while you took him deeper.

“Fucking shit, baby. Oh god—” he fisted the couch cushions, the temptation to fist your hair and push you deeper overwhelming. But he wanted to see what you would do on your own.

You hollowed out your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down his shaft with messy, drooling strokes, your hand wrapped around his base. His vision went fuzzy, heat curling low in his stomach as pleasure spilled through him.

Shit, you were too fucking good at that.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted, head thrown back against the couch, and finally he let himself place his hand on the back of your head, careful to keep his rings from catching in your hair. You leaned into him, moaning softly around his length.

He picked his head up, needing to watch you as you reached the base of him, a sticky, soaking mess in the thatch of his dark pubic hair.

“That's it, sugar. Just like that—fuck,” he grunted, his hips canting up when he felt the tightness of your throat, your tongue lapping at the throbbing root of him. He was deliriously, embarrassingly close already, but he didn't have the heart to slow you down for even a second.

You pulled back, suckling the head with your plush lips while your hand twisted up and down his slippery shaft, the swallowed him down again with a sinful slurp.

Like a bolt of lightening, his balls drew up and he was coming, unable to give you more of a warning than his hand flexing, his cock swelling on your tongue. Sparks danced behind his eyes, his nerves frying beneath his skin as he released rope after rope of come down your throat.

And like a good girl, you swallowed it all and sucked him dry, broken whines falling from his lips as your nursed his oversensitive head.

“Baby, fuck, take it easy on me—”

You released him with a pop, flashing the sweetest, most angelic smile with your chin covered in drool and lipgloss, and he dragged you up into his lap, desperate to hold you close.

“I do good?” You asked, batting your lashes at him, a smug little smirk on your face.

“Good? Honey, you rocked my world.” He pulled you in for a kiss, toothy and playful since neither of you could stop smiling, giddy with the shock of it all.

You giggled as his rained kisses over your face, down your neck, his fingers tickling along your hips and up over your ribs. He wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning back against the couch as he slowed his movements, coaxing you to relax into him.

“Wanted you for long,” he murmured into your hair. “Please tell me you'll be mine.” The words came out so soft, for a second he wasn't sure if you'd heard him.

But then you pressed your hands to his chest and sat up a little, looking into his eyes. “I already am, Eds.”

He grinned, cheeks sore and heart pounding, and kissed you again while a terrible rendition of Ella Fitzgerald's “I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm” bleed through the thin walls.

Looked like it wouldn't be a blue Christmas after all.

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hotvintagepoll · 9 months ago

Note

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.)

#asks #hotvintagethoughts

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jnnul · 2 days ago

Text

if i say...i love you!

a/n: i saw the if i say i love you trailer and i am a CHANGED WOMAN. was going to make this for taesan but there aren't enough loser leehan fics out there. cranked this out in one day so if there any grammatical errors, pls let me know <3 quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 7.4k

tags: high school au!, losers in love, leehan is referred to donghyun, dongmin is a character accurate loser + menace, jihyo han/jihan best girl!, the bnd boys are chaotic and stupid, leehan is in LOVE, warnings: none!

THERE'S A FAT CHANCE THAT YOU'RE GOING TO ACCEPT KIM DONGHYUN'S CONFESSION.

at least, this is what han dongmin says when donghyun lays out his plan in front of his best friend.

"why?" donghyun whines, looking down at his hasty scribbles on his blueprint. "what's wrong with the plan?"

dongmin rolls his eyes, not even looking down at the blueprint (which donghyun had literally drawn out his plan on blue paper to make the entire situation more official - but dongmin just thinks its childish, if not a little adorable) as he pads into the kitchen to grab a snack.

"well for starters, i'm fairly sure that y/n can't read what you've written," dongmin says, two packets of goldfish richer when he returns.

donghyun frowns as he looks down at the paper before groaning, realizing that the hieroglyphics he'd written in place of legible letters were definitely far from interpretation.

"what do i do?" donghyun bemoans, dragging out each syllable. "by the time i work up the courage to confess to her again, we'll all be senior citizens instead seniors in high school!"

dongmin snorts before finally giving the 'blueprint' a solid look to decipher exactly what donghyun's plan was.

"your plan is to get down on your knees before first period and ask her out in front of the entire class with - are those chocolates or suspiciously small grenades? - chocolates and flowers? and you think that she's going to be first of all, comfortable with this and second of all, willing to say yes?" dongmin shakes his head, shoving a handful of goldfish into his mouth. "even if she does have feelings for you, she'll probably say no just because of this plan."

donghyun lets out another groan as he lays on the floor, cursing his luck. when he'd run the plan by jaehyun, the older had said that it was the perfect plan. although, if myung jaehyun thought that this was a good way to ask someone out, that really should've been donghyun's first sign of danger.

"also did you even need an entire sketch for this? i mean, it seems pretty straightforward," dongmin says, barely dodging assault by very well aimed marker.

"well, if you're done snarking on my plan, can't you help me figure out how to ask her out?" donghyun says, flipping over to serve dongmin his killer move - puppy eyes. the motion is clearly lost on dongmin when he just shovels more goldfish into his mouth but after a painfully long moment of chewing dongmin moves from the couch to the floor.

"alright, alright, fine...here's what you're gonna do..."

TRIAL ONE: DONGMIN'S PLAN

"hey jihyo," donghyun says casually, nodding to you as he spoke with your best friend, han jihyo. it was 7:30 in the morning and while donghyun usually couldn't be bothered to woken up before 7:45 in the morning (when he would eventually be yelled at by his mother and then scramble to get to school), he felt surprisingly excited to get up early in the morning to get to the school.

jihyo looks at donghyun confusedly as she takes her seat right next to you, where you had your textbooks open in front of you, just like he knew you would. "hey donghyun. what's up?"

donghyun shrugs, trying his best not to look at you scribbling away as he converses with jihyo. "nothing much. i was just wondering if you were busy later today? dongmin got us tickets to watch a movie but our friends dropped out."

"which movie?" jihyo asks, eyes sparking up at the mention of donghyun's best friend.

"uh..." donghyun wracks his brain, trying to come up with a movie name on the spot. dongmin hadn't prepared him enough! "interstellar?"

"are you asking me or telling me?" jihyo says, just barely suppressing her laugh. next to her, you look like you're in a similar situation, eyes bright and sparkly with the efforts to not completely laugh in his face.

while donghyun would usually take this in a win in itself, he decided to push his luck just a bit further. "i'm telling you; it's dongmin's favorite movie."

he pretends to ignore the subtle elbow jab that you offer to jihyo, fighting down the corners of his lips that keep creeping upwards. perhaps this plan could help donghyun and dongmin - two birds one stone. even if in this situation, dongmin was completely oblivious to jihyo's affections...

"yeah, i'm free later on," jihyo says before turning to you, her hair covering her face so donghyun can't see her facial expression as she's speaking with you. "you're free too, right y/n? you're coming with us?"

"i mean, i am free but i don't want to intrude. we don't even know if dongmin has enough tickets," you point out, a little shy as you look anywhere but donghyun and jihyo - which is a little hard considering that jihyo is practically in your face and donghyun is a good two meters tall (or at least, that's what it feels like).

"i have tickets," dongmin says, announcing his presence with an arm slung around donghyun's shoulder.

"perfect! so then we'll meet you guys in the courtyard at the end of school," jihyo says, fluttering her eyelashes not so subtly at the sight of the large man currently dangling off of donghyun.

he flashes an 'ok' sign as the two boys make their way to the back of the classroom, dongmin snickering at donghyun's dazed expression.

neither of them realize that you've turned around in your seat, a soft look in your eyes as you steal glances at donghyun.

+++

"i hate you," donghyun mutters under his breath. dongmin slaps his forehead with the heel of his palm, staring at the tickets in his other hand.

"you didn't exactly give me enough time to secure four tickets to interstellar of all movies," dongmin hisses, turning to flash a sweet smile to jihyo and you, waiting in the line patiently for some popcorn as the boys stood outside the theatre.

"well you didn't prepare me with a movie name! i did the best i could," donghyun whispers back, pulling dongmin to the side when an older couple tries to enter the theatre behind them.

"yes, and now look. we've got four tickets scattered across the hall," dongmin says, waving the tickets in donghyun's face.

donghyun sighs, running a hand through his hair as he tries to figure out a solution to the situation.

"what if we just bounce and do something else? there's no point in watching the movie if we're all gonna be on opposite sides of the theatre," donghyun says and dongmin frowns, looking down at the tickets once more.

"wait wait...there's two seats that are next to each other. it's just the other two that are on the opposite sides of the theatre," dongmin says, pointing out the seat numbers on the tickets.

"so y/n and i will sit in those seats, and then you and jihyo will sit on opposite sides of the theatre?" donghyun asks, reaching out to grab the tickets when dongmin draws his hand back quickly, holding them out of reach.

"what happened?" you ask, voice soft and gentle as you and jihyo walk up to the boys with arms filled with popcorn and soft drinks.

donghyun and dongmin exchange a look before handing over the tickets sheepishly. jihyo takes the tickets with furrowed brows after handing over (dumping) the soft drinks in dongmin's arms.

"hm. okay, give me one sec, i'll text you guys," she says somewhat mysteriously before disappearing into the theatre where trailers were playing.

"uh...i feel like one of us should go with her," donghyun says before pushing dongmin through the door behind her. the bewildered look on his face is quickly covered by the doors that cover him in darkness.

the giggle that leaves your mouth might as well been a choir of angels by the way that donghyun feels weak in the knees, unable to tear his away from your frame.

"here, let me hold that," donghyun says, gently taking the larger than life tub of popcorn from your arms. you thank him shyly, tugging your jacket over your shoulders.

"do you remember the last time we watched a movie together?" you ask, a faint warmth in your cheeks. donghyun nods, tossing a kernel of popcorn into his mouth.

"i've learned that you should be kept far far away from horror movies," donghyun says cheekily. you pout, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"no one warned me that there would be that many jump scares," you complain, chewing on a piece of popcorn.

"i remember how you were shaking while the murderer was searching the house," donghyun laughs, dodging when you reach out to slap his arm. "you wouldn't let go of my arm until the murderer was put in a jail cell."

you clear your throat, trying to will away the heat that was building on your nape and cheeks. "interstellar doesn't have any jump scares does it?"

you look up to meet donghyun's eyes, only to realize that they're already looking into yours. big, bright, sparkly and looking at you as if he's trying to commit every detail about you to memory.

"no, no jump scares," he says softly, and suddenly you get the feeling that you're stumbling into a territory you've never explored before as he draws closer to you.

"um, that's good," you whisper, the moment suddenly too intimate to speak. donghyun looks at you for just a second too long before stepping back when there's a buzz in your pocket.

"dongmin and jihyo?" he asks, shoveling more popcorn into his mouth before you walked in, knowing that dongmin was prone to eating everything in sight when watching movies.

you nod, reading the text message out loud. "jihyo somehow convinced two people to switch seats so we've got seats all next to each other."

"cool. let's head inside then," donghyun says, the warmth of his body leaving yours. he pauses just before he enters the dark theatre, looking at you with a soft smile.

"and y/n? even if there aren't any jump scares, feel free to hold onto my arm."

+++

"what happened afterwards?" kim woonhak asks, sprawled out on park sungho's bed. sungho reaches over to smack him on the arm when woonhak opens up a bag of cheetos, only to spill them all over his bed.

"nothing, obviously. the fool started getting so into the movie that that's all he would talk about for a good hour before y/n said she had to go home and study," dongmin says, slapping donghyun upside the head when donghyun starts to contest his recollection of the situation.

"you're really stupid," lee sanghyeok says, accepting the packet of haribo gummy bears that jaehyun throws in his general direction.

"sure. but this is all because i listened to dongmin's idea. i was supposed to ask her out at the end of the movie in some weird, complicated speech that dongmin came up with," donghyun protests.

"see, that's your issue," sanghyeok says, wincing when woonhak rips the head off of a gummy bear as he eats it. "i don't know why you'd listen to the least romantic person in this room about how to ask a girl out."

"then what do you think i should do?" donghyun asks.

"well, as the only person out all of you fools with a girlfriend, here's what i think you should do," sanghyeok starts, holding up an ipad with a drawing on it.

"when the two of you are cleaning the classroom after classes..."

TRIAL TWO: SANGHYEOK'S PLAN

"uh, what do you mean that y/n's sick?" donghyun says dumbfoundedly. jihyo gives him a weird look as she continues to take down two copies of notes, confirming that y/n is most definitely not at school.

"i mean that she's sick. she caught something from her brother. she's not coming to school today," jihyo repeats, staring at her notes for a moment before continuing to write again.

"oh," donghyun says defeatedly, thanking jihyo before heading to the back of the classroom. dongmin appears in the doorway of the classroom not even two minutes later, lollipop in his mouth as he drops one on jihyo's desk before heading to the back of the classroom to sit down next to donghyun.

jihyo twists in her seat. "this is y/n's favorite flavor. i'll give it to her later when i drop off some soup my dad's making her."

"you're going to y/n's house?" donghyun asks, leaning forward on his elbows, looking like he was pretty close to toppling over the desk and onto the student in front of him.

"uh, yeah." donghyun scrambles out of his seat to head over to the front of the classroom where jihyo was sitting.

"can i come with you?" donghyun asks. jihyo looks at him strangely for a moment before craning her neck to dongmin behind him. it seems whatever she sees is enough to convince her because she nods after a beat of silence.

"sure. you can come too. i'm heading over after we clean the classroom," jihyo says, nodding over to where dongmin was sitting and thumbing through his phone with earbuds in. "bring dongmin too."

"why?" donghyun questions with an innocent expression, backing off when jihyo fixes him with an unimpressed look.

"consider it a favor exchange. my friend for yours."

+++

"you know what, i thought sanghyeok's idea was stupid anyway," sungho says over the phone. donghyun can vaguely hear the sound of weights being lifted and dropped and he figures that his college going friend was likely at the gym when donghyun had emergency called him with a need for a new plan.

"so what do you think i should do? i mean, i only have a couple minutes until jihyo comes out of her house after picking up the soup. how do i come up with a plan in the next three minutes?" donghyun asks worriedly, shoving dongmin away when he sees that dongmin's dangerously close to his phone, trying to figure exactly what sungho was saying on the other end.

"well, clearly food is out of the picture, since you don't have time and because you're a walking hazard when it comes to anything related to a stove," sungho says, more to himself than to donghyun.

"if you could come up with a way to help without snarking on my cooking skills, that would be highly appreciated," donghyun says drily, winding up to kick dongmin when he starts snickering from where he's leaned up against the wall.

"alright, alright. here's what you do, alright? first, when you get to her house..."

TRIAL THREE: SUNGHO'S PLAN

"you've seriously never been to tokyo?" dongmin asks incredulously, his hands shoved in his pockets. jihyo shakes her head, setting down the soup from where she'd just reheated it on your stove.

your parents were out of town on a business trip and according to what she knew about your brother, jihyo figured that park sunghoon was out frolicking around in the snowy streets with his own friends.

"i've never been on a plane before," jihyo explains, satisfied with the heat of the soup finally. dongmin just shrugs, looking around your house with a renewed interest when donghyun pads out of your room to where the other two were standing in the kitchen.

"is she still sleeping?" jihyo asks, trying the soup herself. donghyun nods, rubbing his hands to create some friction and warm them up.

"yeah. she seems to be waking up but i think that she's still pretty out of it right now," donghyun explains before picking up the container of soup. "do you think that you can bring the paracetamol? it looks like y/n has a pretty bad headache."

"how can you tell she has a headache?" dongmin asks, his question turning to a whisper when jihyo looks at him with a withering glare.

"it's called having empathy, han dongmin," jihyo calls out, looking for the paracetamol in one of the medicine cabinets.

"empathy? i have plenty of empathy," dongmin says under his breath sullenly as he follows jihyo into your bedroom.

you're laying in bed, curled up in carefully laid covers, clearly donghyun's work by the way he's examining the bedspread with rather severe scrutiny, as if he's willing the hearts on your bedspread would turn into mini heaters to provide warmth to your sick and tired body. your eyebrows are furrowed, even in your sleep, as though you were fighting away the illness with a physical weapon with effort.

"y/n? you gotta wake up soon. sunghoon said you've been sleeping for hours and that you haven't eaten anything yet," jihyo says, setting the paracetamol down on your nightstand.

"yeah, where is sunghoon anyway?" dongmin asks, watching as donghyun wakes you gently, offering you a smile so sweet, even dongmin feels himself swooning.

"gallivanting on the streets. he's still sick himself but there's no containing the man," you explain, sitting up in your bed. you somehow don't seem all that alarmed that there are so many foreign people in your room, looking worse for the wear.

"here's soup. don't worry, i didn't make it - jihyo's dad did," donghyun says softly, handing the bowl of soup over with so much care, it seemed as though he were handling a live grenade.

you let out a mellow laugh, coughing at the effort as you accept the bowl of soup, letting out a blissful sigh after sipping a spoonful. "tell your dad i said thank you, ji."

jihyo just waves you off, unzipping her backpack to search for her other copy of notes. "here are the notes from today. the biology lecture really gave me a headache so i wouldn't even try to decipher that until you feel better unless you want to feel like a tightrope walker with an anvil on your head."

"that's...really descriptive," dongmin says, laughing when jihyo shoves him.

"i can help you," donghyun says, watching you carefully as you take another sip of soup, thankful for the liquid warming you up from the inside.

"you're willing to sit with me to study biology? are you sure that you don't think it'll be a bother?" you ask, looking up at donghyun through your lashes. donghyun's breath catches in his throat when you do. somehow, even with a runny nose, mussed hair, and granny pajamas, donghyun thinks you look like the vision of beauty.

"it's not a bother to me. spending time with you could never be a bother," donghyun says offhandedly, looking at the label on the paracetamol. it's only when the entire room goes silent does he realize that he'd spoken out loud.

he looks around nervously for a moment before his eyes land on you, staring at him, bright-eyed and every inch the reason why donghyun has trouble sleeping at night these days.

"i mean, you're my friend, right? why would it be a bother to spend time with your friend?" donghyun backtracks and he hears jihyo and dongmin let out a breath behind him. you still look somewhat confused before you nod slowly, finishing your soup.

"friend, right."

+++

"you were at her house and you still fucked it up," woonhak laments, wincing when jaehyun chucks a pillow at him.

"language," the older boy says before flopping on sungho's bed next to woonhak.

"why do you delinquents always have to come to my room? can't we ever hang out in sanghyeok or jaehyun's room? or better yet, why can't we ever hang out at your guys' houses?" sungho complains, but he still sits down next to jaehyun, shoving the two boys a little bit over to make space for himself.

"because your room is the cleanest," sanghyeok points out, never looking up from the homework he was working on at sungho's desk.

"yeah, unfortunately sanghyeok's room is currently serving another purpose," jaehyun snorts.

"what, as a pigsty?" dongmin quips, a smirk drawn out on his lips when sanghyeok fixes him with a thoroughly unimpressed look.

"all of you are useless," donghyun wails, swatting sungho's hands away from his hair. "i've been trying to confess to her for a good week and a half now and all i've managed to do is make a fool out of myself three separate times."

"you didn't make a fool out of yourself, donghyun," woonhak comforts before jaehyun sits up from where he was scrolling on his phone, shaking his head.

"nope, he definitely did. the first time, when dongmin booked four separate tickets and jihyo had to save your ass so you could attempt to confess after the movie, just to ramble about physics and black holes for hours. and then when y/n never showed up to school so you couldn't confess to her while you were cleaning the classroom like sanghyeok suggested. and then when he couldn't even take care of her properly like sungho suggested while she was sick because he can't cook if his life depended on it." woonhak nods when jaehyun finishes his spiel, much to the horror of donghyun, who was now starfish on the floor, looking ready to throw a tantrum.

"yeah, i can see why she would think he's weird," woonhak says with an air of seriousness.

"you guys think she thinks i'm weird?" donghyun cries out dramatically.

"no, otherwise you wouldn't be going to the library together on sunday to go over biology," sanghyeok points out logically, flipping through the pages of his textbook with a crease in his forehead from focusing.

"see, the issue is that all three of those fools are way too subtle with their confessions. sungho's ideas especially was stupid," jaehyun says. "i mean seriously, telling her that you're half in love with her while she's gotta killer migraine must've been the stupidest idea i've ever heard."

"you thought that asking her out in front of the entire class was a good idea," dongmin reminds jaehyun, who just rolls his eyes.

"you guys have no sense of romance."

"i have a girlfriend."

"shut up, sanghyeok."

"damn, alright. i didn't realize all of you were that salty that you're single losers."

"SHUT UP SANGHYEOK!"

after sanghyeok has been served with enough slander for being an insufferable boy in love, woonhak and jaehyun turn to donghyun with twin expressions of evil on their faces.

"you need to man up, donghyun! here's how you tell her that you like her..."

TRIAL FOUR: JAEHYUN AND WOONHAK'S PLAN

"so the reason why this question is phrased this way is because you're supposed to focus on the oxygen affinity for fetuses versus adults based on this curve," donghyun explains patiently, pointing at various points on the diagram in front of him as he speaks.

you nod hesitantly as you follow his hand around the paper before ultimately shaking your head, slumping down on the table.

"i'm sorry donghyun, this entire thing might just end up being a waste of your time. i have no clue what any of this means," you mutter disheartenedly looking at donghyun.

donghyun just shakes his head, smiling as he closes the textbook and stretching. at the table over from the two of you, dongmin and jihyo are bickering about the best my chemical romance instead of studying for english like they'd promised when your teacher announced the upcoming exam on friday.

in the ideal world, dongmin and jihyo would be off being a cute couple (whether they realized it or not) somewhere where donghyun couldn't see them and be jealous but the effervescent feeling he gets from spending time with you is more than enough to douse that jealousy.

"you're shoving a lot of information into your brain. it's hard to get on the fiftieth try, much less the first," donghyun says gently, and you peek up at him, only to cast your gaze elsewhere when you realize just how overwhelming it is to look at him.

it's a warm feeling that spreads through your body as you realize that donghyun looks at you as though you may as well have put the stars in the sky personally for him.

funny. did he ever realize that you looked at him the same way?

but you're left to leave your thoughts with the disarray of papers when donghyun stands up, shrugging his jacket and scarf on.

"come on, let's go get you some coffee," he says, lifting up your jacket to hand it to you. you offer him a small smile as you put your jacket on, following him out of the library once he's stopped and dongmin and jihyo's table to ask them to watch your stuff.

"bring me back a latte!" you faintly hear jihyo whisper-shout, to which donghyun turns around to flash her a thumbs up before leading you out of the library.

the weather outside is surprisingly clear and warm for how much it's snowed over the past few days.

"you didn't put a scarf on?" donghyun chastises, unwrapping his own scarf and draping it around your neck. you try to protest, giving donghyun back his scarf but he just ignores you, expertly ducking and weaving as you try to drape the scarf back on him.

"you're going to get cold!" you exclaim, but you don't fight him when he wraps the scarf around your neck properly.

"you know, i wanted to be your friend since the day i saw you, back in middle school," donghyun says, his breath leaving his lips in clouds as the two of you walked the three blocks between the café and the library.

you wrack your brain, trying to recall the first time that you'd met donghyun. "i thought we met in high school, though? at jihyo's birthday party?"

donghyun just smiles, looking up at the clear skies. "that's when you first saw me. i saw you back in middle school."

"really?" you ask quietly, shocked by the knowledge that donghyun had been thinking about you in whichever capacity for so long.

"yeah. i remember you had braces back then but you still were the prettiest girl in class. you always used to be so quiet and kept to yourself but you were so sweet to everyone around you. i remember when jihyo found out that she was nearsighted, you used to write her notes for her every period until she got glasses. and then again, when she had lasik surgery," donghyun says casually, opening the café door as the two of you enter.

"you - you weren't even in our class," you say, shivering even in the warmth of the café. donghyun seems to notice, by the way that he draws closer to you - so close that you can see the faint freckle by his eye.

"no," he agrees simply. "but i knew anyway."

"you paid that much attention to me?" you ask incredulously. donghyun shrugs, nudging you forward when the person in front of you orders.

"i've always paid that much attention to you, y/n. i just don't think you ever paid that attention to me," donghyun says faintly. you feel weak in the knees at the insinuation, moving forward somewhat dazedly.

"a caramel macchiato, vanilla latte, an americano, and a hot ginger tea please," donghyun says, completely ignoring you when you offer your card to the cashier, swiping his quickly.

"you didn't have to buy coffee for me," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear. donghyun tilts his head, eyes forming little crescents at your gesture.

"hmm." the two of you find a table to sit at while you wait for your orders to come out before you turn to donghyun, curiosity blatant on your face.

"how did you know my coffee order?"

"like i said, y/n. i've noticed you for a while before you ever noticed me."

+++

"you had everything in place! why didn't you tell her about your feelings?" jihyo cries out from where she's sitting in donghyun's beanbag chair, dongmin sitting right next to her, squishing the poor beanbag to near smithereens.

"i agree with her! why didn't you tell her about your feelings?" dongmin exclaims. donghyun rolls his eyes, throwing the tennis ball in his hands at the ceiling before catching it and throwing it back up.

"why is she invited to this anyway?" woonhak asks, even as he offers jihyo a chocopie from the stash of snacks that sungho and jaehyun had gathered after raiding donghyun's pantry.

"because she's the object of this guy's affections for the past four years," sanghyeok says, pointing at jihyo and then donghyun. "it's good to get all of the firepower you can get, with how much a dunce this kid is."

"first of all, i'm not a dunce. and second of all, i haven't asked her out because i don't want to ask her out using one of you idiots' plan," donghyun explains. "i wanna ask her out the way i wanna ask her out."

dongmin sighs, shaking his head. "how is it that you're so mature and suave when you're speaking with y/n and you're such a child when you're with us."

"i think woonhak has cooties and donghyun somehow imbibes them whenever he's in a forty kilometer radius of him," jaehyun offers as explanation.

"shut up. you and i had the same idea for how donghyun should ask y/n out," woonhak reminds jaehyun to which jaehyun has no choice but to just nod along, munching on a chocopie.

"anyway. can we talk about dongmin and jihyo for a second. how the hell is it that y/n and i went to the café while you two were fighting like cats and dogs about the best mcr song and we come back to you to basically making out in the library," donghyun says, turning in his swivel chair to smile smugly at the conjoined twins on his beanbag chair.

"shut up!" jihyo yells, throwing a chocopie wrapper, only to incite more laughter from the boys when it falls to the floor pathetically.

"hey, to be fair, it only took us about two years of knowing each other to start dating," dongmin specifies. "it's just that the past month of trying to push you and y/n together pushed us together enough for us to realize that maybe dating wouldn't be such a bad idea."

jihyo and donghyun exchange a look (a threatening glare from jihyo and very thinly surpressed smirk from donghyun) - something, which unfortunately, does not go unnoticed by the rest of the boys. especially dongmin, who twists to look at his girlfriend with an unbelieving look.

"no way. don't tell me you also have some pining love story like donghyun," dongmin incredulously. at jihyo's silence, the entire group erupts into chaos, with sungho and donghyun (after feeling guilty) trying to silence them in vain.

"oh my god, just when i thought they couldn't get any more insufferably cute!"

"god, i hate both of them."

"why is everyone so bad at confessing their feelings."

"i'm gonna tell my girlfriend about this; she's gonna find this hilarious."

"i REALLY need to stop being single."

dongmin just ignores all of them, pressing a chaste kiss to jihyo's cheek when he realizes that she's gone bright red from the attention to her feelings.

donghyun mimes throwing up when he does so but can't help the smile on his face when he turns to his phone.

"anyway, anyway. back to the donghyun and y/n intervention," jihyo says, clearing her throat. she still earns a couple cheeky grins but manages to turn the gazes of the group to the individual sitting at his desk, frozen in his spot.

"what's wrong?" woonhak asks concernedly. donghyun just lifts up his phone to show the others in the room.

y/n (<3): hey, can we talk?

TRIAL FIVE: DONGHYUN'S PLAN

"y/n? is everything alright?" donghyun says, his footsteps masked by the snow that didn't melt from when it snowed again a few days ago.

you look up at him with a nervous smile. "yeah, everything's fine. um...do you wanna sit down?"

you scoot over to make space for donghyun on the bench you were sitting on. the bench faced the pond, somewhat concealed from the busy streets of seoul by the various coniferous trees that lined the public park.

"sure. yeah." donghyun takes a seat next to you, knee bouncing nearly as soon as he sits down.

"you look nervous," you say gingerly.

"you look nervous," donghyun echoes.

"touché." you fiddle with your hands, the evening suddenly feeling a lot colder than you thought it would be. donghyun notices, just as he notices everything, and for some reason, he shifts so that he's sitting on his hands. almost as he was physically stopping himself from doing something.

"so...what did you want to talk about?" donghyun asks, watching as a young child tries to escape his father's grip to run straight down the little slope that fed into the pond.

"nothing," you squeak out before shutting your eyes tight when you feel donghyun turn to look at you instead of the pond.

"oh. did - did you just want company as you sat outside for a bit?" donghyun stutters, not sure of what to do with himself.

"no," you start, before shaking your head at your own words. "i mean, i do have something to say. i'm just trying to find the words to say it."

"you know, i've been meaning to tell you something to you too," donghyun says tenderly and you immediately nudge him, encouraging him to go ahead and say his piece first.

"no way, you have to tell me first," donghyun defends, turning his nose up away from you when you try to catch his eye, trying to grasp his jacket to turn him towards you.

"i'm nervous, donghyun. can't you do me a favor and go ahead first?" you plead and donghyun melts, unable to hear any sort of sorrow in your voice - for whatever reason.

"alright, how about we say it at the same time?" he proposes and you concede as you nod, retracting your hand, not noticing the way that donghyun's gaze follows your movement.

he lifts three fingers, then folds one, until there's only one left. you shut your eyes, unable to see the expression on his face.

"i like you!"

"i love you."

you immediately open your eyes, jaw hanging as you stare at donghyun, who looks equally flummoxed by your words.

"you like me?" he asks, pointing a finger at you. you turn the finger back at him incriminatingly.

"you love me?" you gasp and donghyun's gaze grows tender, taking his other hand to trap your hand between his two large ones.

"for a while," he admits sheepishly, a shyness so uncharacteristic to the gentlemanly and smooth donghyun you were used to. "i've been trying to confess to you for the past month now. you just...never noticed."

you laugh besides yourself, immediately willing all laughter away when donghyun looks at you with a hurt expression.

"you've been trying to confess to me? donghyun, i've been trying to confess to you for the past month!"

"what?" he stammers. "you've been what for the past month?"

"yes, you fool. i've been trying to confess to you for months. i've liked you for months! and then when you asked jihyo and i to the movie, i figured that it was dongmin's scheme to ask jihyo out so i decided to use the chance to ask you out. and then the whole tickets fiasco happened," you explain, inching closer to him. donghyun uses the opportunity to thread his hand with your own, tugging you close to him so that his body warmth could envelope your shivering frame.

"and then you spent the next hour talking about the movie and you just seemed so excited that i didn't want to distract you. and you know, you're cute, when you're excited," you continue, grinning stupidly when donghyun turns away his head to hide his shy expression.

"so this whole month, you've been trying to confess to me too?"

"donghyun, you say i haven't paid attention but i swear to god, you are so dense sometimes."

TRIAL SIX: Y/N'S PLAN

"look, look," jihyo whispers under her breath as donghyun enters the classroom. you don't look up, not wanting to feed into jihyo's taunts, knowing that it would only serve as fodder for her teasing later on. you wait for donghyun to pass by your desk to the back of the classroom, where he sat everyday, staring out of the window rather than paying attention to any of the classes. any of the classes other than biology, that was.

but to your surprise, donghyun stops at your desks, talking to jihyo about some movie or another. a pang of jealousy that you try to swat away strikes in your chest before you hear dongmin's name and hear donghyun's attempts to keep from snickering in jihyo's face

ah. so he was just the messenger for dongmin.

you continue to write, not sure of what exactly you were writing anymore as you were trying not to make it overt that you were listening to jihyo and donghyun's conversation.

"i know you have tutoring today, but push it back until seven in the evening," jihyo whispers hotly once donghyun has disappeared from earshot.

"you have a movie date."

+++

"are you going to finally use this chance to ask him out?" jihyo asks when she catches you staring at the tall boy conversing with his friend outside the theatre hall as the two of you stood in line for refreshments.

"that's the goal," you respond with a sigh. "i don't know if he feels the same but i don't want to regret never telling him about my feelings."

jihyo nudges you softly. "hey, don't have such a negative outlook. you don't know how he feels, right? don't knock it before it happens."

you don't respond, watching donghyun chasing his friend around with a blithe smile, waving the tickets in the air.

+++

"i personally thought that the best part of the movie was when the dad ended up inside..." donghyun rambles excitedly, holding scoops of popcorn in his hands as he explains his theories to dongmin. you can't help the smile on your face as you watch him act so carefree and enthusiastic. dongmin nods along, explaining his own theory every so often.

jihyo's eyes dart between donghyun and dongmin before she slumps down, taking a long sip of her fanta. "somehow, i don't think that any level of confession is going to happen today."

you just laugh, content to listen to your friends discuss their favorite scenes from the movie before clicking your phone open, only to curse when you realized you only had a few minutes before tutoring.

"i'm so sorry - i have to get going!" you say hurriedly, gathering your things as quick as you can before you rush out of the theatre, wincing when you realize the amount of courage you'd have to work up once again to confess to him.

but donghyun just watches your uncomfortable expression as you rush away, unsure of it was his fault.

+++

you sit up in your bed, accepting the bowl of soup that donghyun hands you, trying your best to ignore the tingle of electricity that runs down your spine when your fingers brush against his.

your focus fades in and out of the comfortable rhythm of the conversation as you sip on the soup when jihyo drops the daunting copy of notes she'd written for you on your desk.

"i can help you," donghyun says, anchoring back to the conversation. you try not to show the fact that your heartbeat is now around the same decibel as a plane taking off, instead trying to deny his offer for fear that spending too much time together might cause to spit out the words you've been chewing on day and night for the past few days.

but something about the way that he says he's more than happy to help you and that you're not being a bother by asking for help makes you stutter for just a moment and in a second of weakness, you accept his help.

"friend." the word feels surprisingly bitter on your tongue when you echo the way donghyun says it, like its been dripped in lead in the way that it sits so heavy.

not when you wanted so much more

+++

"you know what, this will be the perfect timing for you and i to ask them both out," jihyo says, opening the door to the library as the two of you head inside.

"i still cannot believe you and him have been fighting like cats and dogs and you think that it's peak romance," you laugh as jihyo shoves you playfully.

"whatever," she says before turning to you, surprisingly serious. "alright, promise me that you'll ask him out. whenever i'm alone with dongmin, i'll confess my feelings for him so you have to promise that you'll confess your feelings to donghyun."

you interlock your pinky with her, only to drop your hands when you stumble across donghyun and dongmin, who are sitting with their heads together, looking not too unlike head-butting bulls.

"oh. have we interrupted something?" you ask through a stifled giggle, causing donghyun and dongmin to spring apart. you swear that dongmin quite literally is suspended in air for a good two seconds before landing once more in his chair.

"no, no, not at all. come y/n. you and i can sit here," donghyun says, pulling out a chair for you to sit in.

you try your best to ignore jihyo's gaze as you pull out your textbooks, ready to learn as much biology as you possibly could. and maybe put off any sense of confession for as long as possible.

+++

"weren't you the one who said that you didn't want to regret not confessing your feelings to him?" jihyo points out, stirring a mug of hot chocolate. you nod, slumping in your chair.

"i know..." you scramble to straighten your posture as you lean over the table to look at jihyo. "how did you ask out dongmin?"

she shrugs, uncharacteristically shy as she takes a sip of hot chocolate. "i didn't. dongmin asked me out."

you groan, sliding down your chair once more. "why can't donghyun ask me out? what if i just never work up the courage to ask him out?"

jihyo just laughs at your torment when her phone buzzes. she pulls her phone out of her pocket before reading the text message.

dongminnie mouse: donghyun's house in twenty. you're officially on the donghyun and y/n intervention squad >:)

she pockets her phone once more before sliding her hot chocolate over to you before gathering her belongings.

"where you going?" you call out, passing off the hot chocolate to your brother padding down the stairs. jihyo slips her shoes on before turning around with a shit-eating grin.

"to go and fix your issue for you!"

TRIAL SEVEN: FATE'S PLAN

"that's one killer best friend," donghyun huffs as he pieces together the entire situation together. "if only dongmin was as competent; we'd have had this conversation months ago."

you rest your head against donghyun's shoulder, watching as the sun slowly begins to start its descent into the horizon.

"i don't know. i'm kinda glad that things worked out the way that they did. what if i didn't feel as strongly as i do now? maybe this was all meant to be," you say softly. donghyun smiles, turning to look you in the eyes.

just as sparkly, bright and so full of affection as you knew his eyes would be.

he leans in close, just a breath away from you as his eyes never leave yours.

"really? and if i say i love you right now?" he asks, and you forget why you'd ever been scared to confess to this boy, so full of love just for you.

you lean in even closer, pressing your lips against in a sweet, tender kiss, smiling when his lips seem follow yours even with his eyes closed.

"does that answer your question?"

"more than enough."

#jnnul #onedoornet #bnd x reader #leehan x reader #bnd imagines #bnd scenarios #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor #leehan fluff #leehan fic #bnd fic #boynextdoor fic #boynextdoor imagines #leehan imagines #leehan boynextdoor #bnd #bnd fluff #boynextdoor fluff

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writersdrug · 10 months ago

Text

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...

#konig #konig x reader #konig x you #konig x yn #konig cod #konig fanfiction #fantasy au konig #cod fantasy au #cod x reader #konig x reader smut #konig smut #konig nsfu

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luludeluluramblings · 4 months ago

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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.)

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #platonic batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #smalltown!reader #luluramblings #anon ask #answered asks

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97keanu · 1 year ago

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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

#dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski #dave lizewski fanfic #kick ass fanfic #my writing #dave lizewski smut

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totothewolff · 8 months ago

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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

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headcanonenthusiast · 1 year ago

Text

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.

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