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wild3stdrms · 25 days ago

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off to the races | christoph waltz x reader x daniel brühl

summary | your sugar daddy has you meet a friend of his, and, when christoph offers daniel a gift, the night evolves in a way that you never thought possible. pairing | ceo!christoph waltz x fem!reader (y/n) x ceo!daniel brühl word count | 6.8k warnings | SMUT (MDNI), age gap (christoph is 65, daniel is 39, reader is 20/21), infidelity except not really??, anal sex, double pentration, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, cum eating/swallowing, spitting, slapping, overstimulation, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, "daddy" name, degradation author’s note | APPARENTLY people are super horny for christoph waltz and i had no clue, so THANK GOD bc it let me write this uwu also PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read EVERY warning, this gets really intense and i want everyone to be sure they know what's about to happen lmao

You knew that your lover wasn’t one to eschew work, and, while you loved him for it, sometimes it took a lot of convincing for him to turn away from his business calls and emails and pay attention to you. Of course, with a big enough pout and doey-enough eyes, Christoph would do whatever you wanted him to. You had him wrapped around your finger like that, and you enjoyed how gentle the Viennese businessman was with you (most times).

Honestly, you had no idea how Christoph had managed to gain the amount of wealth that he had. He never really explained what his business was, leaving you to guess and make up elaborate stories, mostly for your friends’ entertainment. “He’s an assassin, and he gets hired to take out the elite. Prince Phillip? That was my Christoph.” He was the CEO of some business that had something to do with banking and investments, you figured, but, past that, you didn’t know a single thing. Every time you tried to bring it up and ask, Christoph would pull you into his lap and kiss your shoulder and, in his smooth Austrian accent, would say, “Well, sometimes there’s things that bunnies worry about, and things Daddies worry about; this is one of those things, Häschen.”

You woke up with the sun baking the bed, and you stretched your arms above your head with a squeak. You had begged and pleaded with Christoph for a holiday before the weather started to turn cold, and he had pondered it for a day or two before telling you that you two were going to Barcelona. You loved vacationing in Spain, a taste that Christoph had cultivated, and you had attacked him with kisses and many repetitions of “Thank you, thank you, thank you”. Before you knew it, you were in the historic city on Christoph’s arm. You couldn’t remember much from the night before, only something about champagne and the bitter smell of Christoph’s beloved Cuban cigars, but the delicious ache between your legs told you all that you needed to know.

Perhaps your lover was 65, while you were a fresh-faced 21. Perhaps you had had waitresses mistake him for your father before. Perhaps he was featured yearly in Forbes Magazine as one of the richest men in the world (as of the latest version of the issue, he was at number 6). Perhaps people made assumptions about your relationship based solely on your ages and his wealth. But, while Christoph could definitely be categorized as your sugar daddy, he was so much more than that to you. You loved him deeply, so much deeper than you ever thought you could love a man. You could talk with him for hours and never get bored, and laying in his arms and listening to his breathing was one of your favorite pastimes. But, with love came sex, as it often did. When you had first met, he was fresh from a messy divorce that had played out on a global stage, and your relationship was completely what television told you it should be: he would fuck you, then buy you a diamond necklace or a new computer or whatever you asked for. However, his age brought complications sometimes, and you think that it was your forgiveness and easiness with moments like that, somewhere between the sweaty bodies and the sound of fresh dollar bills, where genuine adoration sprouted, and you wore his name on a tiny gold chain around your neck.

You sat up in the bed, gazing around the room sleepily. The bedroom of the hotel suite itself was much bigger than the apartment you used to rent in Los Angeles, and you felt a latent bit of acid froth in the back of your throat. While you claimed that you didn’t love Christoph for his money, sometimes you had to be materialistic and admit how fucking awesome it was to date a rich guy. You got out of bed and found Christoph’s white button-down from the night before. You could vaguely recall him taking it off before diving his head between your thighs, and you allowed yourself a smile as you slipped it on. It still smelled like his deep cologne and bitter cigars.

You found Christoph on the balcony. The glass doors were open, letting the breeze into the den, and he sat at the wrought-iron table reading his daily morning newspaper with his thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Quietly, you approached him and settled a kiss in his silvery hair, and you slung your arms around his neck.

“Would you look at that?” he hummed softly. “She’s awake.”

“I was very tired after last night,” you told him, landing a kiss on his cheek. “Anything good in the news?”

Christoph sighed, and he put a tight arm around your waist and tugged you into his lap. “Same old bullshit,” he mumbled, and his fingertips lightly trailed up and down your exposed thigh. “Did you have good dreams, Häschen?”

“Yeah,” you told him. “I can’t remember them, but I know they were good.”

“I’m glad,” Christoph said, and he softly kissed your cheek. He sighed again, this time a sound of contentment, and his fingers danced up your arm to your shoulder. Carefully, with his muddled-green eyes drinking in the sight of you, his fingers tugged the collar of the shirt down to expose your soft skin, and he put another gentle kiss there. “You’re so gorgeous, my sweet girl.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” you whispered, and you kissed his jaw. “You’re pretty handsome too, y’know.”

“I know,” Christoph said. “But we’re talking about you right now, my love.” He pulled his glasses up into his hair and pressed the tip of his nose to yours, and he quickly pushed into you to kiss you. His mouth was soft and warm, and his tongue was like silk inside your mouth as his hands roamed your skin. His rough fingers played up into the back of the shirt and up to your shoulders, and you giggled a bit when he tried to pull it over your head.

“Daddy, stop,” you hissed with a smile, and you accepted the little nibble he gave your bottom lip. “Anyone could see us.”

“Then, you should be good and obedient for me,” Christoph told you. “Unless you want a spanking for being a naughty little girl.” His kisses moved to your neck as he unbuttoned more of the shirt, and one hand grasped your warm breast as the other went between your thighs. He took no time to let his fingers play with your pussy, almost like he had been holding himself back until then, and he only smiled at your small whimpers. “You’re gonna be good for me?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, letting your head fall back so that he could easier kiss your neck. “I’ll be good, Daddy.”

“Perfect,” Christoph whispered, and he withdrew his hand from your legs. “Just making sure. We’re having dinner with a friend tonight.”

You had to blink a few times to remove the cloud of lust, and you fixed the shirt over your frame once more. “Who is it?” you asked. “Anybody I’ve met before?”

“You might have briefly met César at that benefit dinner several months ago,” Christoph mumbled. “But he’s a good man, and he found out we were here, and he asked to treat us to dinner.”

“He lives here?” you asked. “Gosh. I would love to live in Barcelona.”

“I would too,” Christoph said, patting your thigh a few times in thought. “I might look into real estate here, in that case… But César lives here, yes. His father is German and I worked closely with Hanno, but then César took over the business some ten years ago, when Hanno passed away. His mother is from here, so he lives here. I haven’t seen him in quite a while, probably not since Paris, at that movie premiere… Regardless, he wanted to have dinner. It’s a nice place, he assured me.”

“What should I wear?” you asked, letting your finger play with the soft beard on his chin.

“How about that lace number that I bought you in Paris?” Christoph said. His thumb made circles on your thigh, and you smiled.

“I meant what dress, Daddy,” you told him, and he smiled at you.

“Of course, of course,” Christoph said. “Silly me. How about… The red Dior? You look simply ravishing in it.”

“Alright,” you agreed. “The red Dior… And maybe that little lace thing too, if you’re good.”

“If I’m good?” Christoph scoffed. “Is my little Häschen getting feisty? You’re gonna start punishing me if I’m bad to you?”

“Of course,” you said with a shrug. “Quid pro quo, right?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Christoph mused with a smile, and he kissed you again. “My silly little bunny.”

The restaurant that night was a nice place, dim lights and easy music and laughter spilling from inside. Christoph’s hand was on your back as he led you inside, and he let his touch linger as he spoke to one of the workers. “We have a reservation,” he said. “For González?”

“The rest of your party is here,” the worker told him, and Christoph gestured for you to follow them. You knew that he always liked to walk behind you, mainly so he could admire your ass, but he said it was to let people see his beauty before they saw him. Whatever the reason was, you knew what it felt like to have his gaze on you, and it was searing.

The man at the table stood as you approached, and you were struck flushed by the look of him. He had pale skin but pink cheeks, caramel-colored hair styled out of his face, except for one tendril that floated on his forehead. He wore a light blue suit, the white button-down under it unbuttoned halfway down his sternum to expose a delicate silver chain around his neck. “Christoph,” the man said with a grin, and Christoph opened his arms to accept a quick embrace. “How are you doing?”

“I’m well,” Christoph said. “How about you, young man? You’ve matured quite a bit since Paris.”

César González scoffed and rolled his dark eyes. “Young,” he muttered. “I just turned 39, Christoph.”

“Younger than me,” Christoph chuckled. “César, this is my better half. Häschen, this is Daniel César Martin Brühl-González, one of my closest business partners and, dare I say, friends.”

“Just César will suffice, mi corazón,” the Spaniard told you, and he took your hand in his gentle grip and kissed your fingers. “Only my mother uses my first name. Waltz, you seem to be right, as always; I have never seen a beauty like this .”

“When have I ever lied to you?” Christoph said. “Come, enough talking; let’s eat.”

It was difficult to ignore César throughout dinner. He was nothing but a perfect gentleman, but he would often give you a look from across the table that wasn’t subtle in the slightest. You briefly worried about Christoph— he had been known in the past to get jealous quite easily— but he had to have noticed the way César was looking at you. The Spaniard was looking at you like he would take you over the table that moment if he could and, while you felt bad for even considering it, you would have let him. It might have made you a bad girlfriend (you hated using the title boyfriend for Christoph, it felt too juvenile for who he was and what your relationship has become, and, by extension, hated being called his “girlfriend”) but, if Christoph asked, you would tell him the truth: you wanted César to fuck you.

Thankfully, your lover was a smart man. He didn’t need to be told these things. You watched his green eyes flick from you to César as the younger man told a story about a party in Ibiza or some such (honestly, you were more focused on his pink mouth under that dark beard than to truly listen to his story), and Christoph took a sip of red wine. “César,” he said, nearly interrupting the younger man’s words, but César stopped instantly and gave him his attention. You loved the way that Christoph could command a room, let alone other businessmen, and you tilted your head as Christoph took another sip of wine. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Now, Waltz,” César chuckled. “You’re the one who said ‘no shop talk at dinner’.”

“Oh, no, this isn’t a business proposition,” Christoph said, leaning back in his chair. “You obviously seem to have taken a liking to my lady, and she you.”

“Oh, Daddy, no, it’s not—” you started, but Christoph gave you a look at the same time that César furrowed his eyebrows. That was a usual response to you calling Christoph his nickname in public; whenever you were asked about it, you cited Marilyn Monore in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, how she called her lover Daddy throughout the entire movie. It was never a satisfactory answer, but it got people to stop asking.

“It’s alright, Häschen,” Christoph said. “I know I leave you wanting sometimes, my darling, and I apologize. But, César, surely you must understand on some level. See, I’m an old man, and I can’t always please my bunny in the way that I truly want to. Well, I’ve seen the way you’re looking at her and you’re a strong, capable young man. Perhaps, uh… You could do it for me. With my guidance, of course.”

Even César didn’t seem to know what to say. He looked at you with those big brown eyes, then back at Christoph, and he swallowed thickly. “You want me to fuck your girlfriend?” he asked.

“I told you, dear boy, I’m old,” Christoph sighed lamentably. “My hip aches, blood pressure is on the fritz, not to mention certain… Dysfunctions. By this point, unless I take medication, the most I can do for her is eat her pussy— which is rather lovely, I must say, Häschen, but you understand my despair.”

César looked at you again, and his eyes traveled down your body, to where your legs crossed at your knee. The cut of the red Dior dress that Christoph had you wear was high on your leg, and hardly any of your thigh was covered. Yet, you didn’t hate the way that César seemed to suddenly thirst for you. In fact, you loved knowing that you had that effect on somebody other than your sugar daddy. César slowly tugged his bottom lip between his teeth as his gaze flitted over your breasts, and he turned back to Christoph. “What do you mean ‘your guidance’?”

“I will help you along,” Christoph explained. “I know what makes her writhe and cry. All you have to do is simply do as I tell you to. She’ll be good for you. Right, Häschen?”

You nodded quickly. Your skin suddenly felt hot at the prospect, and you looked expectantly at the Spanish businessman. He seemed amused more than shocked now, and a slow smile graced his lips. “You’ll be good for me,” César said, and he leaned in just a little bit to be closer to you. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Dinner ended quickly after that, and you indulged César in some light touching on the way back from the restaurant. He seemed a little greedy with the way that he grabbed your tit through your dress as he sucked on your neck, but you didn’t mind it, especially with how Christoph was smiling at the two of you.

It was once you got back to the confines of the hotel suite that César finally let himself free, and he pressed you to the wall and ravaged your mouth. His facial hair was a bit softer than Christoph’s and his breath tasted like cigarettes, but he was strong. He grabbed you around the waist and kept you against the wall, and he kissed you until you were giving tiny squeaks under him.

You nearly forgot about your lover until his smooth Viennese accent caught your ear. “Put your knee between her thighs,” he said. “Give her something to get some friction, get her worked up.”

César, to his credit, was damn good at following orders. His leg split yours and he settled his hard thigh right on your cunt, and you felt your walls flutter at the roughness. Far more rough than Christoph, but you liked it. He detached his mouth from yours and moved back to your neck to give it an open-mouth kiss, and you rolled your head back. “César—” you began, but the Spaniard grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger and brought your face down so you could meet his eyes.

“Oh, mi corazón, you can call me Daniel,” he said quickly on an exhale, and he sucked in a tight breath when your hips rolled down onto his thigh in a desperate search for friction. “Maybe even Dani, if you feel so inclined.”

You nodded quickly, and your gaze floated away from Daniel to Christoph. He was leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, watching the two of you. You laughed a little in shock when Dani bit at a tendon in your neck, and you sighed. “Like what you see, Daddy?” you asked.

“Oh, yes, I do,” Christoph assured you quickly. “So beautiful… She’s getting talkative, though. Take her to bed, maybe smack her on the ass a few times to get her to be quiet.”

Daniel instantly landed a hard smack to your soft ass, and you jumped at how much it fucking hurt. You loved it, though, and you let Daniel sweep you up into his arms and carry you into the bedroom. The bed was still unmade from when you woke up, but Daniel didn’t seem to mind as he threw you down and leaned over you. Your legs came up and clutched his hips between your thighs, and you whimpered as he jutted his hips down onto yours. Daniel seemed to have an affinity for your neck, and he refocused on your pulse point as his big hands pushed the straps of your dress down.

“She’s so good,” Daniel mumbled against your skin. “Is she always this obedient?”

Christoph nodded slowly as he poured himself a drink from the crystal bottle, and he said, “Usually. Sometimes she does need a spanking, but she’s typically a good girl.”

Daniel shoved the straps of your dress down quickly and bit his way down to your shoulder, and he put a hand on your thigh. His fingernails, while dull, still made you shiver as he dragged them up your thigh, and your hips bucked a little in response. “Oh, you like that?” Daniel huffed. “You like it when it hurts, huh?”

“Yeah,” you whined.

“Does your daddy fuck you rough like this?” Daniel asked, and you nodded. Quickly, though, before you even knew what happened, Daniel had landed a smack to your cheek, and it stunned you silent as lust bloomed in your pussy. “Don’t fucking lie to me. I know he doesn’t, that’s why he asked me to fuck you.”

Quickly, Daniel took the dress off of your frame, and he grinned wolfishly at your bare body. “No panties?” he asked, and he moved himself to the edge of the bed and kneeled down. He took your ankle in his hand and gently kissed your knee as he unbuckled your heel and slowly removed it. Somehow, that made you feel more naked, and your legs instinctively tried to close. “Oh, we’re shy now? Where was this before? Everything I’ve seen and been told tells me you’re a wanton little slut, and you’re closing your legs?” He shook his head and clicked his tongue a few times, and he said, “That’s not what good little girls do.”

Now that you were fully naked in front of Daniel, you became hyper-aware of Christoph’s gaze on your body. “Daddy?” you whined, turning your head to find him sitting on the lounge chair in the corner of the room. He was watching you closely, and he raised his eyebrows at you when you said his name.

“Yes, Häschen?” Christoph asked.

“J-Just making sure of you,” you mumbled, shivering when Daniel’s light kisses trailed up your leg.

“I’m here, bunny,” Christoph said, and his eyes flicked to Daniel for a moment. “Bite her thigh. She likes that.”

Swiftly, Daniel did just that, sinking his teeth into your thigh, and you jolted at how good it felt. “Fuck, Dani,” you whispered, and you reached down and curled your fingers in his caramel hair. His hair was softer and longer than Christoph’s, and you gave it a little tug when Daniel soothed the bite mark with his tongue.

“Don’t eat her pussy,” Christoph said quickly, almost desperately; even you could parse that. Perhaps he was letting another man claim you, but he certainly could not have all of you. “That’s only for me.”

“Whatever you say, Waltz,” Daniel mumbled, and he stood up. He dragged you to the edge of the bed and went about undoing his belt, and you harshly bit your bottom lip as your fingers tangled in his belt loops. He abandoned his trousers as you undid them, and he went instead to his shirt, undoing a few more buttons until it fell open to expose a hard, tanned chest, dusted with dark hair. He wasn’t all muscled like men in magazines, but he was fit, and just the look of his silver necklace, adorned with a cross, nestled in his chest hair, made you moan.

You didn’t even get to have a good look at his cock before he was pushing you onto your back once more, and he grabbed you around your throat as he pushed your legs open. “Look at that pretty little pussy,” Daniel cooed, and your cunt fluttered at his accented praise. “Already soaked for me… How badly do you want my cock, sweet girl?”

“Real bad,” you muttered. “Need your cock, please, Dani, please.”

Daniel took a moment to look over his shoulder to where your lover sat, and Christoph gave a nod, as if to say “Go ahead”. With his approval, Daniel turned back to look at you, and he fisted his cock and stroked himself for a few moments as he watched your thighs quiver. “M’not gonna use a condom,” he mumbled. “Gonna fill up your little pussy, you’ll be leaking when I’m done with you.”

Your lips fell open as you listened to him, and you jostled a bit when you felt the head of his cock run across your clit. Your eyes squeezed shut and you gasped at the feeling of it, and you felt Daniel��s hand fall from your throat and move to your mouth, and he shoved his thumb between your lips. “You’re being really loud, bunny,” Daniel told you. “Suck on my fingers for a bit, keep yourself quiet.”

You gratefully sucked on Daniel’s thumb as he slapped his cock against your wet hole a few times, and Daniel finally nudged your legs open wider. “Ya ready, mi corazón?” he asked, and you nodded quickly, still lavishing his thumb with your tongue. He looked pleased with your answer and, as his dark eyes focused on your face, he carefully pushed his hard cock into your wet cunt. The burn of the stretch was a welcome pain, although still pain, and you writhed a little at the discomfort; while it had been a few weeks since Christoph had stuffed you full of his cock, you knew that his cock was longer than Daniel’s. Daniel’s cock was thicker and stretched your small hole, and you gave a small grunt at the feel of it.

“How are you, Häschen?” Christoph asked. “Do you need him to go slower?” For a moment, you considered it, and you nodded. It hurt. If you could have a few seconds to get used to his size, you would be better off, and you knew that Christoph likely was aware of that. “Oh, you do?” Christoph said, giving you a pout. “That’s too bad, bunny. I wouldn’t go slower, so he won’t. Daniel, dear boy— Go for it.”

The young man gave you a little smile, a fake thing with no pity or remorse, and his hand fell from your mouth. He easily anchored himself on your thighs, pushing your legs open, and he began to fuck into you. You gave a whimper of pain and squeezed your eyes shut again, and you mumbled, “Fuck, Daddy… It hurts.”

“I know it does, Häschen,” Christoph said from across the room, and you opened your eyes to see him sipping his drink nonchalantly. “Daniel’s fucking you so well, isn’t he? How does she feel?”

Daniel took a quick breath, and he mumbled, “Tight. Wet. Hot. Fuck, she’s such good pussy. Can’t believe you’ve kept it all to yourself…”

“What can I say?” Christoph chuckled. “I’m a selfish man.”

“She feels like heaven,” Daniel mumbled. “Fuck… Are you sure you’ve fucked her before? She feels like a virgin, so tight…” One of his big paws came up and squeezed your tit, and he rolled your hard nipple between his fingers as he thrusted deep into you.

Your entire body was tingling, partly with his praise and partly because of the pure pleasure coursing through your veins. You wouldn’t last very long, you knew it, and apparently so did Christoph. “Touch her clit,” he instructed, and Daniel’s hand fell from your tit and down to stroke your throbbing clit. Your hips bucked up as a whine escaped your throat, and you tossed your arms out and groped at the bedsheets. Your head already felt fuzzy, and opened your eyes to see Christoph, still in his chair, palming himself through his trousers. Your chest warmed at the sight, and you smiled at him. “Oh, Daddy,” you moaned. “Are you hard, Daddy?”

“Yes, bunny,” Christoph said. His voice sounded a little strained, and he went to undo his pants. Before he could manage it, though, you spoke.

“Fuck me, please,” you whimpered out. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me, please!”

“I’m afraid our guest isn’t ready to give you up,” Christoph told you, and he tugged his cock out of his pants and slowly began to fuck his hand. His eyes had darkened and were fixed completely on you, watching as Daniel scratched his nails down your thighs and fucked you. His necklace jostled against his chest with each thrust, and you reached up and took a firm hold on his hair.

“Please cum,” you moaned in his ear. “Oh, fuck, Dani, please cum, I-I need it, please, please, please...”

“You only want me to finish,” Daniel started and sucked in a hissing breath as your cunt hugged his dick tightly. “Fuck, Häschen… Only want me to f-finish so Waltz can fuck you.”

You nodded, but softly nipped at his ear. The sharp spice of his cologne was filling your head and making your world a little fuzzy, but the sharp fire of pleasure was ravaging your entire body. “I want you to cum ‘fore I do,” you told him.

“You close, sweet thing?” Daniel huffed, and he leaned forward and buried his face in your neck. He bit and sucked at your skin, his hands roaming everywhere, squeezing your tits and ass and rubbing your clit with enough force to have your legs shaking around his waist. “You’re gonna cum all on my dick, huh? You’d better save some for your daddy.”

“Cum on my tits,” you told him, and you heard Christoph adjust himself from across the room. You turned to look at him once more and you found that wonderfully long cock of his in his fist, moving in time with Daniel’s thrusts. His face was pink and his eyes a little blown, and your mouth watered at the sight. “Only Daddy can cum inside me.”

“C'est une bonne fille,” Christoph mumbled, and Daniel huffed out a laugh into your neck.

“Elle n'est pas aussi méchante que vous l'aviez dit,” Daniel said, and your heart leaped into your throat. He spoke French. Surely, Christoph already knew this, and that’s why he decided to speak it; you didn’t know French. The thought that they could be saying anything thrilled you, and you tugged on Daniel’s hair again.

“Parfois, il lui faut du temps pour s'échauffer,” Christoph said. His strokes slowed a bit to allow his thumb to focus on his slit, leaking pre-cum, and his head tipped back to expose his throat. “Oh, putain… Reste dans sa chatte, je vais lui baiser le cul; J'ai besoin d'être en elle.”

Suddenly, Christoph stood up, and he made his way to the bed. Your chest heaved as you watched him approach, and you wriggled a bit when his warm hand captured your cheek and he placed a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Daddy?” you mumbled. Your body was still moving in time with Daniel’s, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “W-What are you doing?”

“Parle-t-elle français?” Daniel asked, pulling his face from your neck. He was grinning, and you watched Christoph roll his eyes.

“Non bien sûr que non,” Christoph replied with a bit of a laugh. “Juste un petit lapin stupide. Tout ce qu'elle sait, c'est dépenser mon argent et me chevaucher la bite.” At this, both men laughed, and you gave a tiny squeak when Daniel pulled out of you without warning. Then, Christoph kissed you once more, and he said, “You’re gonna ride Daniel now, and I’m going to fuck your ass. Okay?”

You didn’t even have to deliberate it before you were nodding, and, when Daniel laid down on his back, you instantly threw a leg over his waist and sunk back down onto his cock. The new angle allowed him to hit that spot inside you with every thrust, and your moans turned higher and softer with each brush of his cock. You felt the mattress dip as your daddy knelt behind you, and there was a pause from him before his big hands grasped your asscheeks and spread them wide. He didn’t hesitate for a second before he spit a mouthful of warm saliva onto your hole, and you sucked in a deep breath. You knew it would hurt, and you were prepared for it, but it didn’t stop the deep moan that fell from your lips when you felt the burning head of Christoph’s cock press against your rim. He reached around to your front with both hands, one pinching at your nipple and the other rubbing rough circles over your clit, and he started to shallowly fuck you. You were thankful that he was starting slow, because Daniel sure as hell wasn’t wasting any time. The fire in your thighs was too good for words, and you found yourself unable to even moan at the feeling at it. All you could do was let your head fall back onto Christoph’s chest and let your mouth fall open as both men had their way with you.

Christoph bit and licked at your head, whispering small things to you as his thrusts moved deeper and deeper inside your ass until his balls were hitting your asscheeks every time. You could hardly hear his whispering over the salacious sounds of Daniel fucking your wet cunt, but you were able to hear enough: “Such a good bunny, doing just what Daddy told you to do. You’re being so good for our guest, I’m so proud of you. Fuck, you take us so well, little girl. This might have to become a regular thing.”

“How’s that ass?” Daniel asked, reaching up and pawing at your tit, and Christoph smiled into your neck.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Christoph said. “I might never fuck her cunt again after this.”

“That’s too bad,” Daniel said. “‘Cause this pussy’s unbelievable too. Shit, why the fuck would you share her?”

“Because I love her,” Christoph said, and a whine escaped your mouth as Daniel fucked into your G-spot at the same time Christoph pinched your clit. “I didn’t think I could give her what she deserved, so I put someone that I trusted in charge of pleasing her; and it seems you’ve done your job. Look at her, all fucked out, just letting us use her. Bunny? Are you doing alright?”

You nodded quickly, and you swallowed thickly. How you hadn’t cum yet, you had no clue, but you knew you couldn’t hold back much longer. “Daddy,” you gasped. “Y-You’re gonna make me cum!”

“Good girl,” Christoph said softly. His hand abandoned your tit and came up to grab your chin, and you turned your head sharply in order to kiss your open mouth. “You can cum, Häschen, you’ve been so good for us, you deserve it.”

The entire world was greying at the edges, and you could only focus on the feeling of being speared from both holes. It was like nothing you had ever felt before, and pleasure thundered through every nerve in your body. Your thighs shook as the spring tightened and tightened in your belly, and your orgasm hit you. “Daddy!” you cried, your hands scrambling to seek purchase somewhere to ground you. Quickly, your hands were filled, and you squeezed Christoph’s hands tightly as you gushed cum around Daniel’s cock. “Fuck, Christoph, fuck!”

Christoph shushed you gently, and he wrapped a strong arm around your waist as Daniel gripped your hips and buried himself fully inside you. Daniel gave a little grunt and his forehead wrinkled up, and he mumbled, “M’cumming, bunny…”. Just like that, you felt his hot cum coating your walls, and you shivered at the feeling of it. It had been so long since Christoph had done that that you had nearly forgotten how it felt, but it was the most delicious and sinful thing you could ever imagine.

Somewhere during this avalanche of feelings, Daniel pulled out of your cunt and Christoph from your ass, and your daddy settled you on the bed. He took a deep, steadying breath as he stroked his cock again, working quicker and quicker until his eyes were closing and his head was tilting back. He gave a deep moan, one that had your cunt fluttering, and spurts of hot cum fell from his cock. You gave a tiny sob at the feeling of it landing on your wasted cunt, and you squeezed your eyes shut as Christoph leaned over you and kissed you once more. His tongue pushed fully into your mouth, and you could finally taste the salt of sweat and the tang of bourbon on his lips. You loved it.

“I love you,” you whispered, and Christoph smiled as he kissed you once more.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

“No?” you asked. “W-What else are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna make you cum again,” Christoph said. “By eating your pussy. I know it’s your favorite.”

Before you could protest (not that you would have anyway), Christoph was leaning down to press his mouth to your mound, and he placed a soft kiss there before his hands grasped your quivering thighs. Slowly, he spread your legs, his eyes locking on your leaking, wet cunt, and he sighed. “Oh, Häschen,” he cooed, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your thigh. “You have a lovely cunt. Looks even better all stretched open from Dani.”

He leaned back in and sent a tiny lick to your hole, and your hips bucked up into his face involuntarily. Normally, he would have given your clit a harsh smack and chastised you for being greedy, but he only laughed a little and gave your wet folds another teasing lick. It wasn’t nearly enough, and you whined and wiggled under him, hoping and praying that he would do more. “Please…” you mumbled. You were too weak and spent to do much more than pathetically beg and shiver in your lover’s grasp, but Christoph didn’t seem to mind.

His brilliant green eyes were locked on yours as he nestled his mouth fully against your cunt, and he oh-so-gently sucked on your throbbing clit. Your hand rose to his hair, soft and easy to tug, and you let out a tiny moan. “Fuck, Daddy,” you mumbled.

That seemed to be what he was waiting for, because he suddenly dove into eating your pussy like a starving man. He sucked and licked and bit at every inch of your skin, pushing his tongue into your hole, and his coarse facial hair made your nerves go crazy. You writhed underneath him and sobbed at the feeling of it, a pleasure that was deep and powerful that you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t pain, and Christoph’s hand came up to grasp your tit. You knew it was less about grabbing your tit, and more about feeling your heartbeat, and your hand fell to grasp the one that held your thigh open. He quickly returned the gesture and held your hand tightly, and he removed himself from you with a little gasp. He was still intensely watching you with those big eyes of his, and you gave a light chuckle at the whitish cum that soaked his beard and mustache. “I thought you knew better than to play with your food,” you whispered, and Christoph rolled his eyes.

Quickly, he moved up your body and pressed his thumb into your mouth, and you opened your mouth, expecting him to press his fingers in. Instead, Christoph opened his mouth and let a mouthful of spit and cum— yours, his and Daniel’s— drop onto your tongue. “Swallow it, bunny,” he told you, and you obeyed, taking it down without complaint. It tasted off, too salty and a little thicker than what you were used to, but Christoph beamed down at you. “Good girl. Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Let me know when you’re about to cum, Häschen, I’ll let you cum in my mouth.”

It didn’t take long before you were yanking on Christoph’s hair. The overstimulation of his facial hair on your clit had you moaning and whining pathetically, and Christoph licked up every bit of cum that your body gave him. You were out of breath and ridiculously lightheaded, and you whimpered as you watched Christoph stand from the bed and fix his dark suit on his frame. Daniel already looked as if he were recovered, sipping on a stiff drink as he watched the show before him, and Christoph took his own drink back up. “Thank you for that, dear boy,” he said. “You’ve made an old man quite happy.”

“Oh no, thank you,” Daniel said quickly. “The next chica I’m with will have to try very hard to top what your girl could do.”

“What do we say to Señor González, Häschen?” Christoph asked, and you sniffled back your tired and overstimulated tears.

“Thank you,” you said quickly. “Thank you, thank you, I-I really enjoyed it.”

“No hay problema, mi corazón,” Daniel told you with a soft smile, one that had his round cheeks turning pink. “The next time you two are in Barça, please call me, I’d love to have dinner again.”

“You mean you’d love to fuck my girl again,” Christoph said, and Daniel rolled his eyes.

“Eh,” he said. “What would be the harm in that?”

When Daniel left, you were still laid prone on the bed, trying to recover from the events of the night, and you instantly pressed yourself into Christoph’s warmth when he settled himself into bed next to you. He had stripped himself of his clothes and lit up one of his cigars, and he smiled down at you as you made happy little noises while you nestled your cheek into his chest. “Did you have a good time, Häschen?” he asked. “Would you let Señor González fuck you again?”

You shrugged a bit, and you kissed Christoph’s freckled chest, just over his heart. “Maybe,” you said. “It felt… Weird. I enjoyed it, but… I didn’t like that it wasn’t you. It felt wrong to fuck someone else.”

“Well, darling,” Christoph began, taking a puff of his cigar. “It felt wrong to watch you fuck another man. I’ll admit, I was far more jealous than I anticipated. I’m actually…” He paused to laugh a little, and he leaned down and pressed his warm mouth to your forehead. “I’m glad you don’t want to do that again.”

“I’m all yours, Daddy,” you told him. “Hey, umm… What were you saying to Dani? Before you fucked my ass?”

“Ah,” Christoph smiled. “Among other things, like how you aren’t always naughty, I said that you didn’t speak French because you were a dumb bunny, and that the only things you knew how to do were spending my money and riding my cock. Of course, I don’t really mean it—”

“Those aren’t the only things I know how to do,” you giggled. “But they’re the things I know how to do best.”

“Right you are, bunny,” Christoph said, and he kissed your head one last time. “You’re my best girl.”

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wild3stdrms · 26 days ago

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do you ever just cry because: daniel brühl exists.

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wild3stdrms · 27 days ago

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MAN I'D LIKE TO RIDE AND WHY

(I don't know why I'm doing it, I just wanted to tell someone)

Smut content down below please be careful while reading it.

Also, I made this list based on my personal view so the "reader" (if it can be called like this) is female, since I use the pronounce she/her.

1) LASZLO KREIZLER

First of all, I don't believe this man is a total sub, for me he's definitely a switch, so... To me it would be much more fun, cause he may have an attitude while letting me ride him anyway. Another good reason that must not be left out is the fact that this man has a certified DAD BOD and a literal a fat cock (see the fact he likes to eat), and in my cracked mind, people with a Dad body are unbreakable, that means that I can bounce on them without breaking them... (being curvy and definitely chubby myself, that last point is really important to me), CERTIFIED TURN ON.

2) DONNY DONOWITZ

Just look at him...

BIG DICK ENERGY

He manages to have a dad bod and be fit at the same time...

He definitely satisfies my size kink.

Again my cracked mind says he would definitely NOT BREAK

Also, I don't know but he gives vibes of switch with sub tendencies, so it would be so enjoyable to be on top of a so feared man, makes me feel empowered.

Also he has the most mesmerizing eyes, it would be so intense to look at them while doing it.

3) FRANKIE MORALES

CERTIFIED DILF

Again... DAD BOD (I don't know if consider it a kink of mine at this point...)

But I have to admit it, this case is the exact opposite.

I'd like to ride him to see him break, cause in my head this man would just "explode" of pleasure if a woman ever rides him... I volunteer as a tribute.

He would be all sweaty, hands lingering on your hips unable to grasp at them anymore, mouth slightly open and eyes closed... Cause it's just way too much.

4) LETO ATREIDES

CERTIFIED DILF AND CERTIFIED DAD BOD

Time to explain another cracked reasoning of my mind: when a man has kids, that's the proof that his balls work right.

I don't know why I find that hot, I don't even wanna have kids, it's my head that is demaged.

BIG DICK ENERGY.

Also, the idea of riding a so powerful man thrills me way too much.

5) CRISTOPH WALTZ

DILF ENERGY

I don't know... He's definitely not the youngest in the list, so I think it would be kind of nice and slow, just really intimate and SO INTENSE.

I figure intense gazes, light touches, soft breaths and whimpers while his arm is wrapped around my waist.

JUST WOW

And...

I FIRMLY BELIEVE I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO IS DEFINITELY CONVINCED THIS MAN HAS A HUGE DICK.

p.s.

He speaks german that is a sort of a sweet tooth for me.

6) HELMUT ZEMO

CERTIFIED DILF (I hit a nerve though)

CERTIFIED DAD BOD

CERTIFIED CHEST HAIR

He has everything...

Even though I see him as someone who could use sex as a simple way to blow off some steam without being romantically involved, he gives the vibes of someone that if is really in love, is all for the intimacy.

He gives me similar vibes to Christoph Waltz, just a little rougher, maybe a tug at the hair or a tighter grip on the waist, but just really intense and even more intimate.

THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK TODAY, IF YOU HAVE ARRIVED AT THE END OF THE POST, BE AWARE OF THE FACT THAT I WANT TO RIDE YOU TOO.

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wild3stdrms · 27 days ago

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𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐋. ─── ☾ 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟ ʙʀᴜ̈ʜʟ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.7ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɴɪᴋɪ ʟᴀᴜᴅᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴏꜰ ɢᴜɪʟᴛ.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

Your recovery had been long and tortuous. There were times when you ever wished you had died in that accident, but watching television every day and observing the races you had participated in and in which you should have been, gave you that necessary push to be able to continue to improve day by day, even if there were times when your body was on the verge of collapse, and all it asked of you was a little rest.

With first-degree burns in various areas, including the face and head, with a fracture, almost broken, in one of your legs, and various wounds scattered throughout the front area of your body along with lung poisoning due to smoke, you decided to finish that recovery as soon as possible and continue the championship in which you had signed up. You had very bad days in which you simply couldn't even get out of bed, and you had other, less common days, in which you were completely prepared to continue improving and giving it all to return to racing as soon as possible. At first, it was very difficult, even the doctors doubted that you would survive, but once they verified your fighting spirit, and threatened the occasional professional, they finally decided to get down to work to make you recover as soon as possible and continue what you had left behind while you were in the hospital, and some of your rivals were still in Germany, you found yourself surrounded by love and emotional support, receiving the occasional joke and words of encouragement, but always missing the sarcastic and scathing comments from certain Austrians with whom you had such a good relationship.

Niki Lauda, known for being "The Rat" in F1 and a category jerk, was not the first to offer you his hand as a sign of friendship once you signed up for that world championship, but once he made sure of the potential you had in the races and how hard you worked even if you didn't get to the podium often, he didn't think twice about burying the hatchet with you. It was not very common to see you in the company of the other competitors, but it was a very pleasant surprise to meet Lauda one summer afternoon after one of the races of the 1975 season, both sharing a rather pleasant conversation judging by how that a subtle smile had settled on his face and your cheeks were pink from the laughter that came from you. People whispered about a friendship, maybe even a romance between the two of you judging by the looks you gave each other, but you both knew that this feeling that flourished in you had to remain hidden from the public eye and that it was not necessary to say anything to express what the other felt, you simply intuited it.

When you had that accident and regained consciousness, you expected to see Niki appear at the door of your room at some point, occasionally meeting James, Clay, and your team of technicians and mechanics while they were still in Germany, even though you were visited by some of the competitors you didn't have much of a relationship with, but Niki never went. He never visited you, and that, internally, destroyed you.

Now, that you had finally been discharged from the various operations for skin transplants and lung cleaning, you decided to continue supporting your team from the shadows. You had to take things easy. The grafts should not be exposed to the sun and, if they did, it should be for the shortest time possible you should not make great efforts to avoid hurting your lungs, in addition to taking care of the fracture in your leg so that they did not have to operate on it. Simply put, you had to take care of every little thing you did so you didn't suffer more than you had to.

"I thought you wouldn't come back to run."

That voice, slightly serious but with a joking tone made you smile. You turned your head to be able to see the tall body of the British driver, who welcomed you with the greatest of joys when he found out that you had traveled to Italy to support your team and the partner who would replace you from that moment until the end of the competition.

"And I'm not going to run," you admitted, extending your arms to reach the crutches you needed to walk, "but someone has to supervise a bit that their team is in good shape and in perfect condition to beat you."

James couldn't help but smile even more when he heard your answer, making a slight wince that went unnoticed when he saw you get up from the seat where they had forced you to be so as not to force yourself more than necessary. He was glad to see that you were still the same woman and, somehow, you didn't see the scars you had left from the accident as something to hide, but that you showed them without problems and any shame. He admired your fighting spirit and your way of making others understand that you didn't give a shit about their opinions.

"That is going to be complicated, the rat and I are leading the championship."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes before heading towards the blond, smiling in his direction again, showing him the result of your grafts for the first time. It was true that Hunt had seen your condition shortly after regaining consciousness, finding that your face was swollen and red, there were even parts that he couldn't differentiate, but now you were completely different. Your hair, if it was already short, was now completely flush and with a blackish tone very similar to coal, with areas covered by bandages that you had to change from time to time for cures. Your forehead, eye area, and part of the bridge of your nose had a more orange hue from the grafts, and while the operation didn't make you look as attractive as you did before, they were at least able to save your life and managed to rebuild an area that might have been lost.

"I know I'm beautiful, but you don't have to ogle me," you teased, snapping James out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to seem rude," he muttered between his teeth, clearing his throat when he realized the mistake he had made by staring at you.

"You didn't seem like it," you denied back, shrugging. "I know I don't look good, James. I'm like a wrinkled walnut, half orange and hairless, but it is what it is, and it is what I have to get used to until everything settles down and improves."

Your tone of voice had dropped. James was able to feel in your words how you were hurt by what had happened, but he also knew that you were doing well, or at least as much as you could.

"Do you want to go for a walk? I have to rescue you from being prostrate in a chair for the rest of your life, and judging by the way your friends look at me, they're not too amused that you're standing up."

You couldn't help but laugh when you heard your friend's words, nodding your head gently before following in his footsteps to take a small tour of the room where your other rivals were.

Something that you liked about James was his spontaneous way of bringing up topics of conversation that were interesting or, failing that, that was funny enough to make you laugh a few times so you could forget about all the bad things in life. You hadn't realized how much you had missed the Brit until that moment.

You appreciated the walk with Hunt. In the background, you were able to hear the roar of various engines, and the talks of the different teams that were competing, and you could feel the fresh and soft wind from Italy blowing over part of your face that had not been affected by the burns. Once again, you felt like one more runner, for small moments you forgot the accident and everything that it entailed, but when you came back to reality, you felt a bucket of icy water fall on you, even more so when you saw the small flag of the Ferrari team just a few meters from you, also remembering the Austrian you hadn't seen in a month.

"And Niki?" You asked, drawing the blonde's attention. He didn't seem to understand what you were referring to. "I know he caused the accident, but nothing happened to him? He was good?"

James opened and closed his mouth, resembling a fish out of water.

"Yes," he said, seeing how you raised both eyebrows when you didn't understand what question he was answering to you. "I mean, nothing happened to him. No injuries, no fractures, or anything like that. The only thing he suffered was his car, and all he did was retire from that race."

"The blow was quite strong, yes," you confirmed, nodding your head gently. "But I know that he tried to help me, as did Harald, Guy, and Arturo. No one suffered from burns?"

"If they had burns, they were slight, nothing too important," he answered. "The rat was very worried about you."

"I guess," you muttered, stopping just a few steps from where Niki was supposed to meet with his team. "Why didn't he come to see me? I understand that we are not thick and thick, but I hoped to see him at some point like you or any of the others."

James' blue eyes settled on you and, with a gentle nod, he invited you into the Ferrari garage, the place you had avoided because of the man inside. You sighed and, with a quick thank you to James, walked slowly towards the entrance of the small space that the Italian team had for the improvement of their cars, then found yourself with a completely absorbed Niki who didn't seem to notice your presence.

Seeing that red jumpsuit full of stamps of the different sponsors that Ferrari advertised made you feel tickled in your stomach. Before, you hadn't paid much attention to how shiny his racing clothes were or how his tousled curls made him look even more attractive, even if his front teeth made many say otherwise; missing someone was never so clear to you until you finally had Niki Lauda before your eyes.

You must have moved instinctively, as the Austrian quickly turned to check that you were there, with him. He was just speechless seeing you, being the first person to have such an effect on him.

"Hello."

Your voice was like a breath of fresh air, and his heart began to pound so fast that he even thought that he might be suffering from a heart attack at that moment. For a moment, he imagined that his mind was doing its thing again, seeing things that weren't there or hearing voices when, in reality, it was an engine; he just couldn't imagine that he had you back, alive, in front of him.

"Hello," he answered back, scanning you.

The small smile that settled on your face caused a frown to appear on his. He didn't know exactly how to feel about your arrival and, although he had avoided meeting you as much as possible, he made sure at that moment that it was a matter of time before the dreaded reunion would take place.

"I know I'm beautiful, but you don't have to stare at me.

That joke of yours, even if you had previously used it on James to get his attention so that he wouldn't look at you too much more than necessary, it did not affect Niki because, in his mind, the only thing he was able to remember was the accident and then felt the weight of guilt fall back on his shoulders. It was as if he were going back to that happy race, remembering the same thing over and over again without getting tired, only to realize that he was to blame for what had happened to you.

It was all his damn fault.

That August morning he was afraid, it was reflected in the meeting with all the runners who were going to participate in the race, but it was his ego and his attempt to show that he was the best and not a coward that caused his mind to cloud over and he just wanted to beat James. He knew he was going too fast, and that the car might be damaged by his attempt to win, but he never expected to crash into the back of your car and set it on fire, thus taking away your chances of winning that championship and almost taking it from your life. It was the latter that weighed on him the most, seeing you engulfed in flames and not being able to save you from a mistake he made. From then on he behaved like a coward, mainly because he couldn't be able to visit you to realize what he had done to you, and now, in front of his eyes and looking not very pretty, he felt even worse than he would have imagined.

"Niki?"

Hearing his name come from your lips, it was as if a switch had been thrown in him.

"Why are you here?" He questioned, surprising you by the dark and cold tone of voice that he was using, being the first time that he addressed you in that way. "You have come to blame me too, right? Just like everyone else."

You couldn't help but frown at that accusation.

"What are you talking about?"

Lauda felt insulted.

She had seen it in the eyes of others, and you, of all the people in this world, should know it better than anyone. Everyone had looked at him and pointed to him as the culprit of everything that had happened to you, and they were right, but he didn't need to be reminded all the time what a monster he had been when he involved you in the accident. The interviewers continually asked him about the same topic, your technicians and mechanics kept looking at him sideways, and even some of the runners stayed behind him in the races so as not to suffer the same fate as you; he wasn't stupid, people were afraid of him, and they described him as the worst human being in the world, but he didn't need you to remind him with your presence.

"I know what you're planning, and I'm not going to let you trample me too," he pointed out cheekily, annoyed, taking several steps towards you so that you could hear him better, leaning slightly to be at your height and intimidate you. "I know I was wrong to let anger blind me and keep me from seeing past my nose, but I also don't need you to appear here as Jesus Christ to argue with me. I know I should have listened to you and calmed down. I know I should have thought with my head and not let my ego win. I know I should have slowed down and not sought glory to show Hunt and his friends that he was the best. But I don't need you to come to martyr me any more than I already do to myself."

The harsh words of the Austrian left you frozen, speechless.

Not only you had suffered the consequences of the accident, but Niki as well, and he was not able to mention it to anyone because everyone blamed him, including himself. As he had spoken, his face had taken on a reddish color where anger and sadness had been the main factor in him. His hazel eyes had turned bloodshot, and his shoulders were shaking, trying to hold back from falling apart. He had always shown himself as someone strong who cared little about other people's comments and, in order not to show how hurt he felt, he behaved like an idiot to drive the other person away. You made sure then that you were trying to walk away so as not to suffer more than he already had, even if then it was too selfish to think such a thing after all he had done to you.

With one step of yours, you got your bodies to be a few centimeters from touching, and slowly, you delicately let your forehead rest on his chest. The sudden contact alerted Lauda, who for a second wanted to step back so as not to injure your burns or make you suffer from the grafts that were recovering and molding, but feeling how you seemed to seek his touch more ended up relaxing him and calming the stress he was experiencing. He had subdued for the last month, allowing him to let out all the air he seemed to have been holding since the moment he saw you in his garage.

You knew Niki wasn't one to show affection for physical contact, but seeing him not pull away made you understand that he was fine. From that moment, you would show him that everything would be fine.

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wild3stdrms · 27 days ago

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𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐋. ─── ☾ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟ ʙʀᴜ̈ʜʟ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.7ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɴɪᴋɪ ʟᴀᴜᴅᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋꜱ, ᴛᴀᴜɴᴛꜱ, ɴᴇʀᴠᴏᴜꜱɴᴇꜱꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴜʀɴꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

Niki was aware that he had been the most recognized driver of the season, something that he did not doubt at the beginning of the season due to his victory the previous year and his championship title. Many were going to praise him for his superb racing performance, but by 1976, he had been recognized for something other than his superb and slightly careful driving, having stood out among the other competitors for always being mindful of the risks involved each race would carry with it a certain amount of danger, or they could have even named him in various magazines over the months to talk about his rivalry with James, being a topic that was talked about a lot during conferences, or even his way of being so surly with the rest of the participants in the race, being nicknamed in different ways for this. But this time, it was for various reasons that publicists and distinct media tried to get an interview with the well-known Formula 1 driver, and it's not like you'd have to be smart enough to know why. You only had to see Niki, his physique, and the reasons why the man was now being so valued after the competition had ended was summed up by seeing his face. The Austrian knew that he had never been considered the most graceful man on the entire planet, not even in Europe or Austria, but he had enough confidence in himself not to give importance to the comments of his fans, and those who were not so much, and it did not depend in any sense on public opinion; if that had been the case, it is most likely that he would have already gone into depression due to the number of fans of the sport who insulted him for being the rival of another runner or for his very different personality compared to other pilots. The bad thing happened with that happy accident that changed his life so radically, with which he almost lost it due to the great pride that prevented him from withdrawing from the race before the catastrophe happened, merely guided by the desire to shut up James Hunt, and to those who had suggested that he was a coward for simply wanting to cancel the race due to the dire conditions in which the German track was found after the heavy rain that was suffering that first day of August. That same thing caused not only his life to have been hanging by a thread, even the fact that he could have left the good woman who had become his friend and who had accompanied him that day to encourage him in his career helpless, but also all confidence and self-esteem that he had vanished in the same way that the rain did when his car had gone up in flames. The Austrian not only had to deal with an intense recovery for five weeks while hoping to get back on the racetrack, but the shame that he would have to spend the rest of his life while people looked not at him, but at the grafts placed in some areas of his hands that were not so visible but were on his head and a large part of his face; somehow, many likened that transplanted skin to a strange meat mask, as if he were a human raccoon. It was a cruel joke, and Lauda knew that he had to get used to it as soon as possible, even if he wanted the majority of the world's population to focus more on his professional achievements or the masterful way in which he had managed to survive before on something so superficial as his new skin was or his appearance very similar to that of a bald rat; this last similarity, although it relieved the tension of many, further irritated the man in question who had suffered the accident.

He had only longed to silence the mouths of those who had always seen him as a coward, even more so after what happened, but he only received the occasional mockery, the incessant glances of the fans to see what was under his cap, the softer comments from his racing team, and the pity of those closest to him. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong, and in the great photo session to which he had been invited to be able to cover the latest Formula 1 book where everything that happened during the season would be mentioned, with several unpublished interviews from all the runners of the year with images of their respective cars and analysis of these and various graphics where a view of all the tracks in which they had participated would be offered with the position of each one of the participants, and various extra and curious data that could call the attention of the fans, is where the ineptitude of some of the high positions of the media was most appreciated. "Scheisse," the pilot muttered to himself as he tried to calm down, noticing how his right leg was trembling violently as a result of the nerves he was having at that precise moment, clenching his teeth to the point of thinking that if he exerted a little more pressure between them, it would end up breaking them.

If Niki's mind could already reach unimaginable speeds when he was on the race track while fighting for glory, in moments of nervousness and anxiety that very rarely reached him, it caused his mind to distort any element of reality and begin to imagine the worst possible scenarios. Niki hated with all his soul the anxiety that the accident had caused him. Many advised him to go to a mental health specialist, even if by then psychology was not classified as an exact science even though a part of it was medically and clinically oriented, but he supposed that it was unnecessary because he survived, he didn't understand what trauma the accident that hadn't already affected him could cause him, but when he began to feel his first wave of anxiety hit him after his first post-recovery race, he knew it wasn't going to be a one-shot thing time. The symptoms of the anxiety attacks returned to him suddenly with the discussion between him and the director of the magazine, the latter being the one who constantly insisted that Niki take off the red cap that always accompanied him, whether it was within the circuit of races or during interviews and even in his day to day if he was going to be seen in public. The fact that Lauda revealed his scars, his grafts, was something that everyone longed to see and, if the magazine had those very special images that everyone wanted to see, they were sure that finally someone else would want to buy it just to see because of the morbidity they caused injuries from your accident. That damned cap —Niki thought constantly— that damned accident had been what had destroyed his life, and people only wanted to have something from him because of the disgust or ridicule he could cause in others. In a moment of anger, completely irrational and driven by the stress that the situation had caused him, Niki forcefully grabbed his mythical red cap with small patches from his different sponsors and held it in his hands, being able to see in these the small scars of his operation and light skin graft due to how extreme his injuries had been in some other areas of his body. There were many emotions that he felt at once that finally caused an explosion inside him when, without even letting him think for a second about his actions, he angrily threw his cap towards the door of the small trailer that they had used to want to do some of his makeup. The already discovered areas of the grafts would impact the spectators even more, and they would be noticed as reddish or more reddish than they already were, being the place where he could also dress in what they had chosen for him, among which a suit stood out careers similar to his but not completely identical, while the other garments were rather mundane and unremarkable, darker and less conspicuous.

He saw in himself nothing more than a simple wrinkled raisin with huge teeth. If in itself he had caused laughter among the crowd due to his large incisors that made him look like a rat, being nicknamed "The Rat King" for this very reason, the fact that half of his face was covered by skin from other parts of his body and his head were still slightly wrapped on a few occasions by bandages to keep the area not so irritated by the friction of the cloth against the grafts had caused the laughter to multiply and now it was louder than ever.

"Mr. Lauda," a sweet and calm voice called him, your voice, one of the photographers who had witnessed the entire discussion with remarkable surprise while ignoring her boss's instructions to take pictures of him unsuspectingly while trying to remove his cap. Niki did not want to see anyone, much less someone belonging to the team of that moron who was in charge of that important magazine, even if you had refused to ridicule him like some of those present, "They are waiting for you on the photography set. Well, more like me, who pays me for this, in addition to the lighting equipment, costumes, and makeup." Your shaky voice caught his attention, and when he finally turned his icy blue gaze on you, he could make out how you had an awkward half-smile that might once have amused him, but now it only made him feel strange as he I could make out how you nervously drummed your fingers on the camera that you held in your little hands. He had been received in the same way by other people, making sure that the eyes of his interlocutors always moved away from his irises and focused on other areas of his face; he was embarrassing and intimidating. "Tell your boss to put the photographs where they fit. I'm going to get out of here," he indicated sternly, seeing how your body seemed to stop its involuntary movement once your eyes seemed to rest on it intensely as if you were observing something fascinating or completely out of the ordinary. "What?" Niki didn't know why you didn't answer him, and it wasn't until he noticed that his cap was a few centimeters from your shoe that he was finally able to answer that question he had asked himself a few seconds ago. You were seeing him without a cap, you were witnessing something that he too much prevented the rest of the world from seeing, and that caused a feeling of weakness to run through his body whenever it happened.

Now, the roles had been reversed: You could judge him, and he had to shut up and endure your judgment of him. You witnessed the cold, distant look of the pilot turn to a fearful one, the same one you might see in a small child who has just witnessed the worst thing he could have imagined, or perhaps as a young boy who has just been discovered by his parents having found out that he had done something terrible; in either case, the feeling that Lauda was then transmitting was one of fear.

Your heart could not help but skip a beat because not only had the previous discussion brought the underlying feelings of everyone present to the surface, but you seemed to be one of the first people to have seen the physical state in which he was the driver after the big crash that shocked all fans of the sport; Just by remembering the images that your television had broadcast, you could notice how the hairs on your arm stood on end. There were mixed feelings, and in that caravan, Niki felt cornered and ashamed of having to deal with someone else's opinion, a smirk from another fan, or a derogatory comment from someone who thought he was a class jerk.

You acted in silence. You believed that the words were not necessary because perhaps he would end up misinterpreting them due to his state of nervousness and defense. You carefully bent down to pick up his cap, still holding your big professional camera in your other hand even though it was hanging from your neck by a strap, gently shaking the garment a little to remove any traces of dirt it had caught. As it fell to the ground, you approached the pilot to return it to him, placing it gently on the table in front of him next to your work object, smiling softly and kindly before taking a seat across from him in the old chair that he loved so much you had reused it during the last season; you had already made a mental note of changing it, you even swore you had mentioned it to one of the people in charge of the photo shoots, mainly because your butt was starting to hurt, and you had just sat down, so you did not want to imagine how the Austrian must feel in front of you or any of the other guests who had accepted this little job. By this point, while you were pondering the possibility that you might lose the shape of your ass, Niki had already put her cap back on, keeping her gaze on a different point in the room other than you. "I hope you don't consider leaving us here. He's an idiot, he's like that with everyone," you mentioned, being the first of the two to speak, showing your willingness to have a quiet conversation with him to address the issue that had led him to sit there, trying to run away from the gaze of other people. "If he thinks you have a flaw or something that he might get more people to buy the magazine, he'll do whatever it takes to show it, even if it's personal or makes the celebrity he's dealing with uncomfortable. I think he even once almost hid in the closet of this trailer just to get a picture of a Motocross rider so he could show the tattoo he had of his ex-girlfriend or something similar; when the guy in question found out, he almost sued us, and it didn't surprise me at all when we found out about it." Niki remained silent, watching you now as he tried to figure out the reason why you were still with him there. At that moment you wanted to be a fortune teller to find out what he was thinking or to have the power to disappear because you didn't think you could bear the Austrian's intense gaze for much longer. "I think he also made a pass like that to a woman he modeled for us, but I don't remember exactly what sport she was in," you muttered, trying to find a suitable topic of conversation, even if your mind wasn't quite sharp enough then to choose something in particular to make the tension between them vanish. But honestly, what conversation could arise between a racing driver and a photographer? Unless each other's respective fields were discussed, it was unlikely that anything genuine would come of that encounter. "I'd even swear something similar happened with Hunt, but it was with his shirt, and he didn't have much qualms about taking it off either, honestly," you continued, turning your gaze back to him when you realized how you seemed to have gotten so involved in your world that you hadn't even noticed how you had started to ramble, finally realizing that his intense gaze was for you to shut up and leave him alone. "Sorry."

A sigh escaped from Niki's lips. You felt bad. Why would you say otherwise? You heard your boss ask him on several occasions in an amusing way to remove his cap, in a way that was too nice for what that stubborn man you worked for really was, always getting a slightly uncomfortable but negative response from the pilot as he tried to keep a bit of composure in each of the photographs for which he was modeling until finally, you could distinguish during your short break a loud voice coming from the Austrian that surprised the entire production team. His thick Austrian accent stood out among the quieter English voices engaged in various conversations across the length and breadth of the set, and soon, the two men had found themselves surrounded by all the makeup, lighting, and set equipment as they tried to understand what was happening, barely being able to make out the words of the men who were shouting at the top of their lungs. Everything happened while Niki was talking calmly with your boss, the latter being the one who begged him more and more insistently to take off his cap so he could see his bandages and burns next to his grafts while a couple of your photography colleagues were they approached on the orders of the man who paid you intending to obtain something more than the rigid body of the Austrian as a cover photo; no, your boss wanted more and was eager to get it. In short, the rest did not need to be explained. Niki got pissed off, your boss started yelling at him, and the pilot couldn't find a safer place to be than in the trailer looking for a place to calm down before he got back in his car and got the hell out of there. In an act of empathy? You didn't even know if you could call it that, you placed your hand on the fabric of the shirt that covered your shoulder, gently caressing it while you felt the soft brush of the fabric against your soft skin and lacking the orange hue of your light natural tan. You frowned gently as you tried to stop your hand, it didn't seem to respond to your commands by itself, but you gently held the collar of your shirt so you could show him the graft that you also had, the product of a freak accident that in your time you tormented for having provoked, in some way trying to show him that he was not completely alone in that fight against what others might think or simply to make him see that that situation of anxiety and nervousness, lack of self-esteem and self-confidence, had no to suffer all alone. The look full of surprise from him captivated you.

His opaque blue eyes, barely visible thanks to the bill of his cap, seemed to shine with intensity when they found that part of your shoulder that was paler than the rest, distinguishing the places where the suture had joined a certain part of your healthy skin with the transplanted from another area of his body; That image reminded him of the same marks that he had suffered from seeing every time he looked in the mirror or when he saw his own hands. "It was a few years ago, quite a few to tell the truth," you indicated, smiling softly at him while you made sure of how your image seemed to have blocked him. "I was young and crazy, and I said to myself, why not play kitchen while the beans are cooking? I put my feet up on the little low bars that surrounded the kitchen and tipped over the entire pot of burning beans. They not only affected my shoulder but also my neck and head area a bit." Niki couldn't help but gently tilt her head to the left side, watching you part your hair from the side of your head a little to show him the small skin grafts in those already healed and lightly covered areas. He didn't understand how he hadn't noticed before. "Young?" He asked, being the only word you could hear coming from between his parted lips separated by his largest incisors, watching how he licked his slightly drier upper lip.

"At eighteen years old," you answered, suddenly hearing a strange snort escape from Niki that caused your mouth to open in surprise and indignation as if you were somehow annoyed by the sound she had just emitted. "Don't laugh. I told you she was young!" You heard the snort again, causing you to cross your arms in indignation while one of your eyebrows rose slightly, waiting for him to stop. He would simply settle into his chair and gently adjust the cap on his head, leaning forward as he reached for your camera and began fiddling with it in your hands. "Yes, but I didn't expect an adult to really be as 'crazy' as you mentioned. What went through your head to do something so dangerous and stupid?" Questioned Niki while a smile, finally sincere, appeared on her face, insulting you along the way for free. But, after all, that was Niki. Sincere. "If I told you. I am a very crazy woman, Mr. Lauda. Don't push your luck with me." Soon Niki's caravan was involved in a large number of funny anecdotes and strange laughter that caught the attention of many magazine workers who were waiting impatiently for the pilot to come out.

Marlene, the Austrian pilot's best friend, had gone to the photo session to bring him the yogurts that he had asked for before leaving his house, appearing confused as she did not know where her dear friend was, encountering a strange scene that caused her heart to leap with joy because Niki was smiling and laughing in the same way he had done before the accident, and recognizing your person as the cause of those natural expressions caused a feeling of happiness. They will settle on her chest. She was happy because finally, Niki seemed to have started to love himself as he listened to all your stories about your burn and just had to see through that little round glass how his cap was now resting on the table that separated you while He was chatting animatedly with you. Marlene only hoped that the same person who was now next to the Austrian would understand that his bluish gaze full of curiosity was not just due to a few silly jokes or absurd situations, but because of a much deeper feeling that had to wait to emerge with overtime.

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wild3stdrms · 29 days ago

Text

wanna go where the girls are young and dumb? ; christoph waltz x fem!reader (smut, 18+)

being c. waltz's sugarbaby - the playlist

Your mother dragged you along to southern France for the summertime. Thus, you are forced to spend your spring break with your stepdad.

warnings: stepdad!christoph, lowkey sugardaddy!christoph, age gap (the reader is in her early 20s, christoph is in his 50s), finally putting my native language to good use, daddy kink, light choking, power play, riding/reverse cowgirl, fingering, pet names, name calling, unprotected sex, slight cumplay and breeding, multiple orgasms, viagra (unrealistic effects), controlling/possessive!christoph, bratty!reader, christoph's a little dark in this so heed the warning, he really just wants to wreck you he's been waiting long enough

translations: Liebes - love; Na, sieh mal einer an wer uns heute noch mit ihrer Anwesenheit beehrt - Well, someone's seen fit to grace us with their presence; Oh, das machen wir aber nicht - Oh, we won't do that, won't we

word count: 11,4k

choosing a gif for this was really just playing what's my favourite waltz era

the title is from the song young & dumb by cigarettes after sex

thank you v for not giving up on me <3

"Na, sieh mal einer an, wer uns heute noch mit ihrer Anwesenheit beehrt. Where have you been?", your stepdad's voice is hard enough to cut steel and you freeze dead in your tracks, white heels dangling from your hand. Well, fuck - so much for sneaking back in quietly.

The huge wooden doors to the living room are opened - and you can see Christoph sitting on the sofa facing the lobby, in the shadows of the room, dimly lit by candles. Your feet are pressing against the polished marble, warm skin on cool stone. It's still hot outside, only a small breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees and rolling in through the opened windows, toying gently with the hem of your nearly see-through, white linen dress.

This place could easily be heaven on earth - the old, 18th century countryside bastide with its lush citrus and olive trees, near a cliff at the water and a sleepy, small town nearby - weren't it for the devil himself.

Your vision zeroes in on him - your mother's boyfriend and soon to be husband - and you try your best to glare into the dim abyss of the barely lit living room.

"Why do you care?", you spit, ready to storm upstairs. You just want some peaceful silence, not whatever the fuck he's on about.

And, like he can sense what you are about to do, like he sees the way your calf-muscles twitch, he says softly: "Don't you dare moving an inch, Liebes." His velvety voice drips with acid honey; a threat in candy-wrappers. A frost descends with his voice, making you shiver.

"I am not -"

"Where have you been?", Christoph asks again, voice menacingly calm. He sounds like he knows.

Like he knows, that you have been out to get laid.

You had met a pretty, young man and shared a few flirtatious looks with him at the farmer's market just yesterday. Your French was sufficient to get the necessities across and thus, he was quick to grasp that you wanted to fuck. Sneaking out of the house around 10 you rode your bike to his place, only to find out that what he had to offer in looks - long, dark, and curly hair and eyes like the ocean - he lacked in experience. He had been clumsy and after he tried to finger you for what seemed to be an eternity of aimless thrusting and unpassionate rubbing, you had told him to fuck off and drove back home. You just want to go upstairs, get yourself off, shower and go to sleep.

But you can't just say that, can you? And thus, you blink, unnerved, hissing: "You are not my fucking father."

You wish you could see his face, see his reaction, but it is hidden by flickering shadows. You decide that tonight's not the night to be the pawn in one of his strange games. Thus, you suck in a deep breath, before eventually sighing: "I am going upstairs. Good night."

"Ah ah ah", he scolds and you can see him taking a drag of his cigarette, the tip of it gleaming before he is exhaling smoke that curls into the air, the thick mist illuminated by the flickering glow of the candles, "Is that a way to speak to the man who keeps you in college?"

"I am not having this conversation right now."

"But I will", he raises his eyebrows and you feel glued to the spot, helpless.

Something prevents you from just leaving. You do not know what it is, but you recall a few encounters in which he had a similar effect on you - where he intimidated you into submission. Another shiver crawls up your spine at the thought.

"Step inside here for a moment, please", and as you don't move, his voice turns cold - like you are in real fucking trouble, "I won't be asking you again."

Making a great show out of your reluctant-ness, you groan, rolling your eyes, before you unwillingly drop your shoes onto the marble. Entering the living room, you sigh audibly, throwing your head back a little in exasperation, coming to a halt only a few steps into the room.

Christoph seems bored by your behaviour, deliberately stomps his cigarette out in the antique ashtray before crossing his arms. He's wearing linen, too - in a fruitless attempt to combat the heat - the first few buttons of his shirt opened. You can see the greying chest hair peeking through from where you are standing, dusted on his skin like silver threads.

You are annoyed - annoyed by the pretty young Frenchman who turned out to be an absolute disastrous disappointment, annoyed by being stuck here in the middle of nowhere, annoyed by the heat, annoyed by Christoph looking at you the way he does, annoyed by the way his strict gaze has your stomach tingling.

Annoyed by how pretty he looks in the golden candle light.

The thought hits you like a chair to the head and you sway a little, hands gripping the edges of the armchair in front of you. You swallow, trying to fight the thought. The light toys with his features, has his eyes gleaming and the grey hair on his temples looking like fluid silver.

You can feel his gaze roaming your body, burning and heavy, as his eyes wander up and down - taking in both, your curves, and your underwear visible through the white linen.

"Come closer."

You do not want to. You want to hide behind the chair, safe from the confusing mind games he likes to play.

But you don't. Instead, like a puppet on his strings, you take two steps forward and into the room, standing there uselessly. Disarmed, your only weapon left is your tongue.

"What the fuck do you want?", it comes out rude, brash. Christoph chuckles, unimpressed. For a second, you two just stare each other - a silent battle of authority and obstreperousness.

"Closer", is all he says, with the steadiness of a victory.

"I don't have time for this", your voice breaks, irritated and a little unsteady around the edges. Christoph looks at you, unfazed but something small changes. It's in his eyes, something that grows stern and unrelenting. If your little display of brattiness a few minutes earlier was a joke to him, your behaviour now was an insult.

And thus, a little intimidated by him, you comply, carefully taking a few steps forward until only a couple long strides part the two of you.

It does not seem to satisfy him.

"Closer."

You furrow your brows and close the gap, mere inches between your and his knee. He looks up at you, eyes cold.

"That's it. Sit", you blink dumbly as Christoph pats his thigh, his tone light in an odd, uncanny contrast to the way he looks at you.

Alright, no. Absolutely not.

You aren't sure if he's joking. It must be a sick joke. Maybe he finds it funny: his adult stepdaughter sitting on his lap. You do not move.

You are certain, he will break any second - for Christ's sake, he's an actor - he's just joking. He will break. His lips will curl up any second now --

Looking at his serious face, stern gaze boring deep deep into your soul, you grow certain that he is indeed serious. Very serious.

You gulp. "I am not doing this. This is so fucking inappropriate."

"And I am not discussing this. Sit."

God knows, Christoph isn't - never was - very patient. And you can feel it, too; he oozes with it, the way his gaze grows cold as ice and you nearly stumble over your own feet as your body gives in. He is fucking intimidating, especially when the façade of the European gentleman crumbles, drops, like it does right now - leaves you wondering, what he is capable of. And you do not want to find out. Thus, your brain barely has enough time to fight it or to reason with you, you step closer and sink down on his lap. You legs dangle over his left knee while you avoid his gaze.

Let's get this fucking over with then.

"There you go, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"N-no", you shake your head, feeling the heat of his body radiating through both of your linen clothes. It should feel odd, and maybe it does just a little, sitting on your fucking stepfather's lap like this, but -- it also doesn't feel that bad. It is strangely comforting, with his rich, warm scent now wrapping you in. You have always liked his perfume - a subtle wooden scent, of vetiver and a subtle splash of mint. Sublime, sophisticated.

One of his slender, large hands wraps around your hips, holds you in place, the other gently takes your hand, fingers brushing over yours.

"I -- where's my mother?", you hold onto it like a lifeline.

"Asleep." And there it goes - the lifeline slips out of your hands and you drown in the dark, deep sea that is his presence, all light out of reach as you sink deeper, nothing else remaining but him. Still, you can't help but notice that his voice sounds cold, distant, and you wonder why.

You recall something your mother had told you just days before the flight to southern France. Her voice echoes in your skull as you remember sitting in her spacious living room, picking out a few dresses for her to wear on vacation. "He's not even touching me anymore, honey, I don't know -" - "Ew, Mom! I don't wanna know, my god!"

You wonder, if their little paradise is already crumbling, turning ugly around the edges, and a part of you wishes for it to be true. You want him gone. But there's also a small voice in the back of your head that panics at the thought. You like your life like this - you can't deny the fact that he keeps you afloat financially, that whatever you want or need - you don't even have to ask for it, he just buys it. Like it's nothing. It's comfortable and easy and you would most likely miss it.

No - you are certain you would. Life's never been that easy for you.

It's fucked up, really. You still remember meeting him, and in the beginning, you got along just fine. Blimey, even.

Getting to know him started off well. Your mother had met him at the theatre while he had been working there and despite her being shy around him, he quickly convinced her to Just try it. The first time you had met Christoph in person was at a dinner at your mother's place during Christmas break and he had been so charming, so soft and well-spoken that he had made you feel right at ease, even though you were sitting across someone so familiar with the limelight and the high society of Hollywood.

It had been nice. You found out that he was recently divorced, with children around your age. You told him about college and your future goals. It had been homely and down to earth, just nice.

And thus, you didn't think much of it as last year's spring break rolled around, returning to your childhood and now their part time-shared Los Angeles home, as he was knocking on the door of your old teenage bedroom. "It's just a little something I got you - a special gift for my new stepdaughter, perhaps? The sale's lady said it would be - quite fitting - for a young woman your age." And Christoph had been so so charming that you didn't think much of it, as you unwrapped the large box.

Inside had been a set of lingerie, made of fine, white lace with frills. The soft fabric had felt and looked expensive and you had gasped - the set so pretty that for a short while, you had forgotten how inappropriate it was for him to gift you such things.

As you finally, after returning to your dorm and showing the gift to your roommate ("Girl, that's just creepy."), came to realize just how wrong it was, a sleek beige box awaited you on your bed one night in the dorm as you returned from your classes. Inside had been a Chanel dress, all pale-pink, flowers and bows ("Shit, that one's kind of pretty").

Christoph had kept sending you gifts: jewellery, dresses, lingerie. You dutifully called every single time and thanked him and he usually only chuckled, stating that it was nothing. You know you should have told your mother. It felt off and you knew that it was, too.

But you just didn't.

Unbeknownst to you, he was testing the waters. Every time you'd see him from then on, he would put you through agonizingly long inquiries about what you did on campus, who you were seeing. He would make it painfully obvious that he was checking your credit card billings and whenever there was something out of the ordinary, he would bring it up casually in the following conversation.

You remember going out with some guy from your lecture, meeting at a place you had never been at before. The date had gone horrible and to not lead him on, you had paid for yourself - even though he insisted otherwise. Christoph had enjoyed seeing you squirm, bathed in your shame and uneasiness, as he asked you if the drinks were as horrible as he believed them to be.

That's when the tables kind of turned. You figured that he was just a rich and controlling asshole that had barged into your life, had belittled you and had ruined your fucking peace. Maybe he was an award-winning actor but to you, that didn't matter.

You were fucking glad, that he kept the relationship to you mother out of the public eye. You didn't even want to imagine the media attention. You didn't even want to imagine what he had to say about you - "My stepdaughter? Oh, she's just whoring about, that unthankful little girl, don't you worry about her."

His mellow voice rips you out of your memory. "So, what are we doing about you breaking my rules tonight?"

You nearly burst out a laugh - you are in your twenties; you are allowed to do whatever the fuck you want. His made up, bullshit rules do not apply to you - quite frankly, up until now, they did not even fucking exist to you. He never told you there were any in the first place.

Not that you would have cared, anyways.

"You have no authority over me", you say, but doesn't come out half as cool as you wanted it to. Christoph's lips curls into a smile, gaze wandering over your face. His fingers brush over yours and then he leans in, voice low:

"We both know, that is not what this is about."

Something in your stomach tingles and you want to rip it out with both hands. "What-", you whisper, seriously confused.

"I have seen what little - well, shall we call them movies, darling? - you watch when you're alone", he purrs and then smiles, all dimples and small lines around his eyes, flashes his white teeth at you. A shiver runs down your spine.

You blink dumbly. What? Jesus Christ, please no - oh no. Oh shit.

Mortification burns high on your cheeks; your skin grows warm and red with it. You immediately know what he's talking about and his invasion of your privacy has your head swimming.

"You checked my fucking browser history?", you blurt out.

"Checked", he huffs, seemingly amused, "If you leave your phone laying around unlocked--" Christoph shrugs, gestures helplessly as if he's trying to justify eating ownerless chocolates.

You can feel your gut sinking. "Y-you--", you can't help but wonder how much he's seen, what exactly he's seen. You can't help your mind from wandering there - wandering to what he thought, if he liked what he saw. Stop it, fucking stop it.

"I--?", Christoph smiles smugly, raising an eyebrow.

You wonder if he saw the countless videos of older men fucking younger women, making them beg and cry, teaching them manners. You remember one porn you have watched plenty of times - the one of a greying man tossing a young woman around, ripping her underwear apart, slapping her face and tits and railing her until she was crying, gripping her hair and spitting in her face.

You remember how deep you had plunged your fingers into your tight cunt, squeezing around them at the thought of an eloquent and handsome older man railing you until you couldn't walk, having his way with you for his pleasure, and his alone. Every single time you watched that one porn you came hard, harder than the time before, draining your sheets with your squirt until it ran down your legs. As fucked up as it is, just the memory of it has your pussy aching right in this moment, wetness pooling between your legs.

Shame crawls up your spine at the thought that he knows - that he has seen the frequency of it popping up in your browsing history. Maybe he had even clicked on it, watched it a little, indulged in your secret little fantasy. The thought has your cheeks burning red with humiliation, but there's also something else, something primal clawing at your insides, making your lower stomach tingle.

"This is none of your business", your voice is small and quiet, your eyes avoiding his drilling gaze.

"Oh, but what if it is?", Christoph's eyes gleam mischievously.

"Excuse me?", you blurt out, heart racing in your chest.

"Mh well", he weighs his head from one side to the other a little, as if he's carefully considering a thought, "You know, if you wanted what you saw in those little movies you could've just asked me?"

He says it so nonchalantly, as if he's talking about buying some milk. You blink, completely speechless.

"Do you want to know why? Why you could've just asked me?", and you nod, head swimming a little, "Because I do not want some dirt-poor, hicktown-boy touching what is mine."

Your breath hitches, and he shrugs. "There's no need for you to compensate your fantasies elsewhere any longer, Liebes, hm?", his voice is soft, dark and deep, like soft silk wrapping you in, "I can give you exactly what you crave."

It feels like your brain has just blown a fuse, blinking at him dumbly. His lips tilt up, one of his hands brushing over your knee. "You just have to say it, darling. Just say the word", and you feel like drowning in the grey sky of his eyes, loins tingling, "I can make you feel good, better than the young men can."

You swallow, excitement bubbling up in your stomach, hitching your breath. It's not like you haven't thought about it, about him - the memory buried deep, deep in the darkest corner of your brain.

You should say no. This is not okay, it will hurt your mother. It's not right. It is inappropriate, at best.

But you are also so fucking horny still, your whole body aching for a touch and the way he looks at you - your fucking stepdad who's a full-blown, silvery 30 years older than you - has tingles spreading through your limbs, fire spreading in your loins. Fuck it.

"Y-yes", you whisper instead of doing the right thing - the spirit willing but the flesh weak -,"Yes, please."

And then, he leans in.

Christoph's kiss is soft and firm, and goosebumps roll over your skin at the thought that it doesn't feel foreign or odd, like if it isn't the first time, he kissed you. It feels a lot like coming home, returning to a familiar touch - it's the way he grabs your waist, mostly, like he just knows how to touch you.

His hand brushes over the small of your back, tips gently stroking your warm skin through your dress, before snaking around your waist and pulling you closer - just as his tongue brushes over your lower lip. The other crawls up your leg, grabs the flesh of your thigh, gropes you and feels you up.

You part your lips obediently, letting Christoph's tongue slip past, brushing over yours. He tastes like cigarettes and liquor and you inhale deeply through your nose - his scent wafting around you, rich, and deep, and sophisticated.

One of your hands comes up, cups his cheek, and pulls him closer. You have never been kissed like this before, never with so much verve, so much lust. He kisses like only a man his age does, like he has tasted a hundred women, but decided you tasted best.

The hand on your leg sneaks higher, and you spread your legs needily, allowing it to slip past and between your thighs. Christoph wastes no time, his index-finger pressing against your pussy, gently rubbing it along your panty-clad folds. You are wet already; the fabric damp and you can feel your loins going up in flames as he rubs you through the thin lace.

Christoph eventually breaks the kiss, has you panting against his mouth, his lips curl up in a smug smile. His fingers dance of your cunt, gently circling your clit through your lace string. "Those boys never treat you right, do they?", he is right, he always is, has you gasping quietly, rocking your hips against his digits, "Only I get to touch you, from now on. Do you understand?"

And you nod, mind already a little hazy, nothing more important than the pulling in your stomach and the wetness between your legs. "Yes", you sigh, leaning into his touch.

"Yes --? You will address me properly", his other hand grabs your chin, "That's certainly not hard to do, now, is it?"

You swallow, your cheeks turning red once more as he digs deep into your fantasies. "Yes, Daddy", you say quietly, the word heavy on your tongue, fresh arousal flooding your cunt.

Christoph hums, visibly satisfied, thumb caressing your jaw and a soft gaze wandering over your face, takes you in, before it grows cold again, as he pulls his hands away.

"Let Daddy see what's his, then", and you follow his stern command.

Hooking your legs over his thighs you practically present yourself to him, the soft velvet cushions pressing against your calves as your back sinks against his chest - the soft material of your dress pooling between your spread legs. Christoph's hands roam over your body - from your hips up up up, brush over your stomach and then cup your tits through your flowy linen dress. His grip is firm and he squeezes them a little, making them spill out of your bra.

You gasp, looking down at his hands and watching the way they fondle your tits, pulling the hem of your dress down and hooks the fabric underneath your breasts. Being so lewdly exposed to him, reduced to being a pretty object to admire and to fondle with, has your head swimming, sparks shooting down your thighs.

"I'll show you off, hm, my pretty little girl? What do you think?", he whispers, one of his slender, large hands cupping your left tit and twisting your nipple between his fingers, "Taking you with me everywhere, let everyone see just how beautiful you are." You gasp, nodding frantically at the thought of being his pretty and expensive little arm-candy - all dolled up and looking pretty for him on the red carpet, adorned in shining jewellery and flowing dresses.

"Let's take this off, shall we?", Christoph tugs at the linen dress and helps you out of it, tosses it to the ground carelessly. You can feel his gaze roaming over your body as he looks over your shoulder, feel heat creeping up your cheeks as you suddenly realize that you wearing one of the lingerie sets, he had gifted you a couple of weeks ago.

A low growl leaves his throat, has the hairs on your arms standing up. "Have you been wearing this for him?", he sing-songs catatonically, his index finger hooks underneath the strap of your string, lets it snap back against your skin.

You have, but it makes you feel stupid now. Childish. Like you have done something laughable. Shame bubbles in your stomach and you feel the urgent need to explain yourself to him: "Y-yes, but--"

"Sh, be quiet", Christoph says softly, his hands casually making quick work of your bra, unclasping it, pulling the strings down your arms, and tossing it into the darkness of the room, "It's fine. You didn't know any better, did you, Liebes?"

"N-no, I didn't", you squeal, the cool air brushing over your hardened nipples, making you shiver while his hands run down your body.

"And do you think, it's fair that he gets to see you all dolled-up like this? In something I have bought you?"

Your teeth catch your lower lip as you shake your head. "Right", his thumb brushes over the strap of your lace string, "And why is that?"

You swallow. You know what Christoph wants to hear and you might just be very willing to give it to him. "Because I belong to you", you say quietly, your stomach fluttering after the words left your mouth.

"That's right", his thumb toys with the lace trimming of the string, "You always have, haven't you?"

You blink. "Huh?"

"Don't be stupid, now."

"I -- I don't-", and he tsks at your aimless stuttering.

"My pretty little airhead", Christoph coos, "Why do you think I bagged your mother?", and suddenly - it clicks. Like a heavy lock falling shut.

You remember the first day of rehearsal at the theatre. It had been his first day there and you had driven your mother, who was responsible for the stage designs, to work since she still had a broken thumb from working on the furniture and was pumped up on painkillers. Saying your goodbyes, you had been seeing him standing a few feet away, smiling at the two of you. You had paid it no mind - especially later, since he ended up going out with your mother. But he hadn't been smiling over the situation, he had been smiling at you. You. Not your mom.

The realization hits you like a freight train, leaves you breathless. "I always get what I want."

"Oh", you make dumbly, mouth agape a little, while his fingers dance over your panty-clad pussy.

"You are just a dumb little baby, aren't you?", for a split second his hand leaves you, only to come down rather hard, as he gives your cunt a firm slap, "I think, I might have to fuck some sense into you."

You squeal, a sharp gasp escaping your lips but you can't help it, as you feel fresh wetness pooling between your legs, rocking your hips against the palm of his hand. "Yeah, I thought so", he sounds rather pleased, lips brushing over the shell of your ear, "Nothing more on your dumb little brain than getting off, hm?"

"Y-yes", you croak, flinching as he strikes your aching cunt another time, moaning sweetly, "Daddy - fuck - p-please!"

"I know just how you feel", his other hand grabs your tit roughly, gropes you, pinching your nipple, "You made Daddy jack off to you so often, princess. Can't wait to see if you're really that tight."

And with that, he unceremoniously pulls your string to the side and you sigh, as your plush and hot skin gets exposed to the cool air.

One of his fingers immediately brushes over your slick folds, and you can hear him hum, a low sound that ignites your lust, has you gasping softly.

"Mh, so wet already, aren't you?", you are, you can hear it. You can hear your juices squelching as his finger runs up and down your cunt, circling your hole and giving your clit the slightest bit of stimulation. Your whole body tingles with it, and you look down, watch him exploring your wet pussy. And maybe, just maybe, you have thought about this, too - with your vibrator pressed snugly against your clit and fingers plunged deep in your cunt - maybe, the thought of him had been flashing through your mind, made you cum at least once.

Christoph's lips brush over your neck, goosebumps spreading over your skin, his free hand wrapping around one of yours. "C'mere, let me show you how wet you are for your Daddy, princess."

And you moan quietly, as he guides your hand between your legs, runs your fingers through your folds. You are incredibly wet, wetter than you have ever been and you gasp at the sensation as his hand guides your fingers through your slick. It's thick and watery and warm and your mouth falls agape at just how much there is of it. It drips down your cojoined fingers, that glide along your folds easily, runs over the palm of Christoph's hand and over his wrist.

"I have never seen a cunt wetter than yours", he whispers and you mewl, gaze dropping down between your legs, watching him guiding your fingers over your pussy. The grip on your fingers is firm and his movements come to a halt, as your digits brush right over your clit. Your breath audibly hatches and you mewl, the slightest bit of stimulation already having you begging for more.

Christoph grins against your warm skin, teeth brushing over the soft flesh. He knows that you had had sex before - he has seen the messages you sent to your roommate about the boys from class, about the one with the pretty blonde hair - but he can't help but notice how you turn into puddy in his hands, like you have never been touched before. Like a fucking virgin. It makes his blood boil, dick straining against his trousers, wanting to see you come apart under the touch of his hands. He wants to see you go insane on his cock, until there is nothing else left but him - all your flings from college washed from your mind - a clean slate for him to claim, ruin.

"Are you always that needy? I don't even want to think about how poorly he must've touched you", Christoph mumbles against your neck, tongue darting out, licking a wet stripe over your warm skin before moving his fingers along with yours, rubbing slow and wide circles over your clit, "I bet it was downright pathetic."

Your hips buck and you gasp, eyelids fluttering. "Oh god, yes", you breathe, feeling your own wetness beneath your fingertips, and the lust sparking in your loins like a wildfire, "Yes, it was."

The way Christoph touches you is just so so different from what you experienced earlier - his slender fingers move yours skilfully, rubbing your clit like he just knows how you like it, like he's done it a hundred times before. You sink back against him, and he gently removes your hand from your cunt, places it onto your thigh instead - lips brushing and sucking on the back of your neck. "Let me show you how good I can make you feel, darling", he hums, "Let me show you how a real man can make you feel."

And with that, he unceremoniously pulls the lace of your string apart, riiips it cleanly in two, lets the fabric fall to the floor, before spreading your legs further. His fingers dance over your cunt, gliding through your slick, before two of them dive back in on your clit. Rubbing wide, slow circles he has you gasping within seconds, watching his digits working you with your mouth agape - your hole clenches around nothing, hips bucking.

"Does that feel good, princess?", he sounds so so smug, like he knows that it does. You can feel your loins catching fire, slowly rolling your hips against his fingers.

"Y-yes, fuck yes", you huff, moaning quietly.

Christoph's finger delves deeper and circles your hole, has it fluttering under his touch, before he carefully pushes it in. You gasp, and he chuckles, feels the way your walls clench around him.

"You're so tight, princess", he pushes his finger in completely, curls it a little and you moan as it brushes over the spot that usually has you seeing stars - before he starts to move it slowly, agonizingly even, rubs your walls and feels you squeezing him.

Christoph can't wait to fuck you, to get his dick wet, feels himself growing even harder in his slacks at the thought. He has been thinking about it for so long, that touching you makes him a little dizzy, and it needs a whole lot of willpower not to throw you off his lap and push you into the cushions, ass up, pounding into you until you're a drooling, crying mess.

He really wants - needs - to take it slow, get a taste of every single second, make it last as long as he possibly can. He will make you beg for it, drunk with it; drunk with the way he is going to fuck you until you see stars, until there is nothing left on your mind but him and his dick pounding into you, his hands on your body. He had already made you dependant on him financially, and now, finally, he will own your body and its countless pleasures, too.

Christoph smiles to himself, all crinkled crow's feet, and white teeth, as you roll your hips against his finger, desperately adding some more friction. He loves giving it to you: pulls his finger out of you, only to push two back in, stretching your hole out a little. You are so fucking tight around his digits; he can feel the ring of muscles clutching and straining against his fingers. "No one's ever fucked you real good, Liebes, I can tell."

He shoves his fingers deeply into your cunt, gives you a short moment to assess to the feeling, before moving them slowly, fucking your slick in and out of you. First, your hips tremble and then you squirt, moaning deeply, wetness splashing against the palm of Christoph's hand. Gasping, you watch his other hand crawling between your legs, his index-finger slowly circling your clit.

Pleasure shoots through your body and you moan, goosebumps spreading over your body, your heartbeat rattling with lust. "Fuck", you gasp, head lolling back onto his shoulder.

With his lips ghosting over your strained neck, Christoph gently speeds up, harvests the desperate whines and gasps falling from your lips as he pushes his fingers in and out of you.

You feel like you do not even have to tell him what you want, what you like - it is like he hasn't only dug deep into your browser history, but also your brain - like he just knows which switch to flip, how to touch you and how to rile you up with a deadly precision. It also feels oddly familiar - his touch, his smell, your body pressing against his with lust and a thin layer of sweat - like he has known your body for years, like he had fingered and touched you a hundred times before.

And thus, you do not even have to vocalize it, that you need more, need it harder - he just knows, reads you like an opened book or a fucking road sign. Christoph starts to fuck you quickly, his fingers pushing your cream in and out of you, pussy gushing around his digits. Your hand flies to his wrist, clutches it tightly, as you moan and sigh, desperate of any sort of leverage.

The way he fingers you feels so fucking good and you wish it would never end, but you can already feel your muscles clenching and then his other hand starts to rub your clit hard, two slender fingers circling it quickly and you gasp, mewl.

"D-daddy", you shriek, walls clutching around his fingers rapidly as you feel your orgasm approaching quicker than any time before, "I-- I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead", he sounds amused, and the humiliation that floods you at his tone has your orgasm rolling over you, coming loose around his fingers on his command.

Shudders roll over your body as you cum, pathetic whimpers leaving your mouth while Christoph fucks you through your climax, fingers circling your clit and making you squirt against his digits. You are slowly coming back down to earth, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, before you moan, throwing your head back while you rock down on his long fingers, riding out your orgasm. Your juices squelch around his fingers as he rubs them along your walls, your squirt wet the sofa's cushions beneath. You can feel your slick running down your legs, and you gasp.

"There you go", Christoph coos, lips brushing over your exposed shoulder, his other hand still on your throat, thumb brushing over your jaw, "Doesn't that just feel wonderful, angel?"

You nod, a breathless Yes, Daddy escaping your lips - and you are just so turned on, fire in your loins and fresh wetness pooling between your legs, that you can't help it. You continue to roll your hips onto his fingers despite the last remains of your orgasm still rolling over you, gently and slowly rocking down, meeting the equally gentle thrusts of his fingers. Your cunt squelches as you squirt against the palm of his hand.

Christoph whistles lowly, pulls his fingers out of you - leaving you a whimpering mess - takes a good, long look at them in the dim, golden candle light. They glisten with your juices and he considers shoving them into your mouth for a moment, but the way you roll your hips onto him with your ass rubbing over his bulge, is fucking distracting, has him stalling.

"Oh fuck", you gasp, your head falling back on his shoulder, "Oh god, please, 'stoph, please please -"

"Oho", he chuckles smugly, "Still needy, little girl?"

You are. Your cunt aches, like you haven't just cum and made a mess out of the sofa beneath, but you feel so so empty. You need more. You need -

"N-need your cock, please! Daddy, please--", you roll your hips on his crotch, feeling his hard dick pressing against the soft linen, hot and heavy. He feels big against your wet and aching cunt, leaving stains on his expensive slacks, and you can't fucking wait to feel it inside of you.

Christoph grabs your hips hard, stalling your movement and pressing your slick pussy against his bulge. You can feel his hard cock twitching while you stain and wet the fabric and you moan, needily, while his tongue and lips graze over your shoulder, lapping at the soft skin.

And then, he suddenly buries his teeth in your shoulder - gentle but still hard enough to leave a mark - makes you gasp and sob, before he is licking over the bruised and red skin. Christoph's lips move up up up, over your neck, sucking and kissing. His tongue dances over the shell of your ear, his voice nothing but a deep rumble: "I can't wait to fuck you, darling. Been thinking about it a lot, I just can't get enough of you."

Your breath hitches, and you look over your shoulder, your gaze meeting his unrelenting one. "Please", you say quietly, his grey eyes boring into you, "Do it."

And then Christoph leans in, locks his lips with yours once more, licking into your mouth, while one of his hands wanders down, opens the fly of his pants. He is getting impatient now and you are, too, one of your hands joining his and pulling the hem of his boxers down. He is panting into your mouth, against your lips and your hand wraps around his cock, all hot and hard, gives it a few experimental strokes.

You wonder if he will fuck you like he kisses you; like he is going to swallow you whole, like he is never going to let you go again, with the way his nose digs into your cheek and his hands hold you close while his tongue explores your mouth in between open-mouthed kisses full of panting and groaning, leaving your lips plump and plush. You want him to fuck you like that - until there is nothing left but him.

His dick is bigger than you thought, long and just the right girth and you have trouble closing your hand around it fully. The way you stroke him, despite the angle being a little clumsy with your body in the way, has Christoph groaning into your mouth, licking your tongue, and gripping your waist, his other hand dipping back between your legs.

Your pussy is soaked, and he spreads your slick over the hot, plush skin - so responsive from your previous orgasm, that you gasp and moan against his lips, and he catches your lower lip, gently bites, and nibbles at it. Your hand massages his dick, your thumb occasionally flicking over its tip, smearing the drops of precum pooling beneath your digits. Eventually, Christoph is parting from you, cheeks blushed a little and pupils blown wide, swats your hands away. His voice is deep and dark, nothing but a low and soft whisper, that has the hairs on your body standing up as he addresses you again: "You fucking slut."

And that, that has you moaning. You never thought you'd hear such things from him, but the way his eyes grow dark and his voice rumbles in his chest you are certain, that something primal has kicked in his inner doors and makes itself comfortable. "First, you dress up like a whore for a hicktown-boy and now, all I have to do is to give you a cock and you're gone so quickly you won't even let go of it, eh?"

"It's jus'so big, Daddy, feels so good", you slur, already a little gone, trying to get your hands onto him once more. He tuts at you, shakes his head a little. "You'll get it back, sunshine, don't you worry."

Christoph grabs his dick with one hand - the other arm wraps around your frame and adjusts you in his lap, your naked, shivering body resting against his expensive linen - and presses it against your seeping hot cunt. The feeling alone makes your loins tingle, has you spreading your legs further.

You gasp, needy for him to finally fuck you, finally shove his cock into you. "Please, Daddy--", you whine, rolling your hips against his dick, wetting it with your juices.

"Been teasing me for so long", he sounds unnerved while thinking about it, his cock twitches against your hot cunt, "Did that get you off?"

"N-no", you mewl honestly, because you didn't, you did not know what you were doing to him. You feel guilty, wanting to make it right - to finally be good for him.

"Bet it did", he hums, not listening to you, "I will have to teach you some manners, one day."

Shivers tingle on your arms, run down your body and you nod, the promise of a punishment lingering in the air, your hole clenching around nothing at the mere thought of it. You need him - now. Need him to stuff your cunt, fuck you until you are a drooling mess, not a single thought remaining. "Daddy, please, just-"

"You know, I have kids your age", Christoph is slowly rubbing his cock along your cunt, the tip of it nudging against your clit, making you shiver and whimper. The complete and utter filth that leaves his mouth has you squirming on his lap, his tone - smug and calculating - makes him sound nearly proud that he's bagging someone as young and pretty like you. You can feel some fresh wetness spreading between your folds, warm and sticky, as he rubs his precum through them, eventually presses the thick tip against your waiting hole.

Christoph knows that you usually only let someone fuck you with a condom on, he has seen your contraception laying around in your room but he will make sure that tonight's a little different - he'll claim you, pump you full of his cum and make you remember the way it will mingle with your own juices.

Expecting you to protest as he finally pushes in without one on, he is genuinely surprised as you don't; instead, your hole flutters open, invites him in deeply, accompanied by the sweetest, softest, high-pitched moan he may have ever heard. The second your hot walls close around his dick, squeezing him tightly with your hole stretching around his thick cock, his face comes loose.

You can hear Christoph exhale deeply, a pleased and satisfied sound, his eyes falling shut and face growing soft as he relishes in the feeling of your throbbing, wet cunt. His dick isn't only bigger than you thought, it fucking feels like it, too. The thick head presses snugly against your cervix, while your hole stretches around its base, walls pressed against it, feeling his cock throb.

"Ah, that's it", he sighs quietly, hands gently rubbing your hips.

"'S good?", you slur, already a little out of it but wanting to be good for him, good for your Daddy.

"Better than I have ever dared to dream, darling", one of his hands brushes over your thigh, caresses the warm skin.

You sigh with the praise, hole clenching around the thick base of his cock while it stretches you out. "Y'feel so good, Daddy", you mumble, looking down to where his dick vanishes inside of you, has your cunt spread on it.

"That's my polite little girl", Christoph's hand brushes over your stomach, up up up and cups your right tit, gives it a firm squeeze.

"Why don't you start moving, sunshine? Make sure it will keep feeling good for me, hm?", he suggests, silky voice dripping with honey, and he lets go of a ragged breath as you do. Rolling your hips experimentally once, feeling his cock moving inside of you, and you quiver. It gently prods against your cervix with every moment, making you mewl and gasp.

Starting off slowly, you raise your hips and then move them back down carefully, feeling Christoph's cock stretching you out, rubbing along your walls. His hands brush over your thighs, your waist. "There you go, darling", he croons, lips brushing over your shoulders, "Keep going, make me feel good."

And you really want to - thus, you grow braver, lifting your hips and sinking back down quicker, rolling them on his cock. He groans, throaty and deep, hands digging into your thighs. You start to ride his dick, fucking yourself back onto him quickly, hands darting out to his knees, desperate for any sort of leverage as you lift your hips and sink back down.

Moaning, you throw your head back as your body sacks forward a little, back arched and Christoph gives your exposed ass a firm slap, before his hand snakes around your body, closes in around your throat. "Upright, girl", he scolds, has you gasping and straightening back up immediately. The hand does not vanish, instead, it adds pressure to your delicate neck, pressing your windpipe shut. Your hips stutter and your eyes widen, right before pleasure shoots through your body, hot waves of lust making you squirt against his cock. Your thighs clench, knees darting together. "Keep them open for me, baby girl", he huffs, his free hand darting between your thighs, grabbing your left and forcefully spreading your legs in the process.

Christoph's hand lets go of your throat, now laying gently against your soft skin instead and thus, keeping your upright on his lap, back arched. "Oh", you gasp, so fucking turned on, you might combust on the spot, "Oh, fuck -- Daddy!"

The hand on your thigh gropes you lightly, thumb brushing over your skin gently. You move up and down on his cock, cunt throbbing and walls squeezing him occasionally, while the tip of his dick prods against your cervix. The way Christoph's cock splits you open, rubs along your walls is delicious, has you gasping and whining.

"Mhm, don't you just look pretty, bouncing on your Daddy's cock like that?", the hand around your throat clutches once more and you moan, high pitched and whiny, hips bucking.

The lack of oxygen has your walls clenching around his dick as you rock down on it, hands desperately grabbing the linen of his slacks. The stretch in your back is deliciously painful, the hand on your throat adding to it.

Feeling your orgasm approaching slowly, you speed up a little more, the sounds of your slick skin hitting his cock filling your room, mingling with his groans and your whines. "There you go, sunshine", Christoph's praise is sweet and soft as you speed up a little more, rolling your hips up and down up and down, hands clutching the linen of his slacks, while you fuck yourself back onto his dick. You can feel your heart pounding in your throat, you can taste your arousal on the tip of your tongue, hear your blood singing with it.

With your cunt squeezing him, practically milking his cock as you rock down it, Christoph can't help but wanting more. The hand on your thigh sneaks between your legs, and he feels you shivering in his lap as his index-finger brushes against your clit. Your gasps are sweet and turn into dirty, wanton moans quickly as he starts to circle your clit with it and Jesus fucking Christ - he wishes he could hear it every day, when he wakes up, when he goes to bed, wishes he could just do nothing all day, only play with you, and make you cum over and over and over again. The way you roll your hips and fuck yourself onto his dick becomes more erratic, desperate and a little clumsy and his lips curl up - he just knows you're close.

"That's a good girl", Christoph coos, voice rough and deep, "Cum on my cock. Be a good girl and cum for me."

Adding pressure to your windpipe once more, he presses the hand around your throat down hard. Your hips buck wildly at the sudden lack of oxygen, lust shooting through your veins, while his finger rubs over your clit fast, in rhythm with the thrusts of your hips. You can feel your walls clenching heavily around his dick and then you cum, your orgasm hitting you with such force, that all you can do is gasp loudly. Any sound and thought is wiped from your body as your cunt squeezes his cock, pussy clenching and legs trembling, hips stuttering as you squirt and squirt, your cream gushing against his dick.

Christoph continues to fuck you through it, moaning quietly while you milk his cock, one arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place, the other slooowly letting go of your throat. You suck in desperate breaths, your senses slowly returning and you moan, high-pitched and sweetly, as you feel his dick pulsating inside of you.

"Yeah, just like that, sunshine", he groans, while he fucks you through your orgasm, cock twitching inside of you and shooting hot ropes of cum into your hole, painting your walls white, "Such a good girl, taking it all."

Humming with his praise, you spread your legs wide over his lap, letting his dick in a little deeper, welcoming his cum home. His free hand roams your inner thigh, gropes you gently, while he huffs and groans into your ear - the low sound making you shiver. You relish in the feeling of his warm body beneath you, feeling pumped full by his cum and his hands all over you, while your body grows a little sore, your pussy becoming plush and plump.

His dick is still buried inside of you, hard and hot and heavy. You feel so so full, with his cock preventing his cum from leaking out, only a few drops run out of your hole lazily, drip down his balls and onto the sofa. His cock doesn't seem to go noticeably flaccid, having you gasp and moan with the sensation, relishing in the feeling of him filling you up to the brim. You want to ask why he's still hard, but the question becomes obsolete as your gaze flickers to the coffee table. There's a blister of pills there, one cavity empty. The pills are blue.

Christoph's thumb rubs along your chin, catches on your lower lip. "Surprised, angel?", and you nod, only a dumb Uh-huh leaving your throat and he snickers at the sound, pushes his thumb into your mouth. Immediately, like you are fucking programmed to, you start sucking on it, pussy clenching around his hardening cock.

"Oh, my pretty baby, fucked your brains out already? And I am not even done yet", he sounds genuinely amused while his other hand brushes over your inner thigh and your skin and the nerves below are so so responsive to his touch, has you squirming in his lap and on his cock, mewling. It makes him groan, a low sound, vibrating deep in his throat.

"I have been waiting so long for this", he husks, "I didn't want for it to end too quickly, hm?"

You can feel him growing back to full size inside of you, within mere minutes. It feels nice, nice being so full and you are so far gone in that thickly sweet daze that you don't even think once, as you roll your hips lazily - once, twice - while his hands roam over your body, your lower belly, your waist, groping your tits.

Christoph touches you with a righteousness, like you belong to him, like he owns you. Like there's no one else but you.

But you know that's not true. You know that upstairs your mother is fast asleep, and that on her nightstand lays an expensive engagement ring with a huge-ass diamond. If you weren't so fucked out of your mind, you'd care and you'd wonder if this is a one-time thing.

As if he can read your thoughts, he says: "Don't you worry your pretty little head, princess. I won't marry her anymore - it's only you darling, always been."

And you sigh, his sweet talk wrapping you in as he pushes his hips upwards once, buries himself deep into your cunt, hits your cervix. You look over your shoulder, and your gazes meet.

One of his hands comes up, rests on your cheek while he starts to fuck you slowly, softly pants with the way his dick slips in and out of you. "Oh, my sweet baby", Christoph coos while you are hissing quietly as his cock brushes over your overstimulated walls, spreads your tight and aching hole, your hand clutching his wrist.

"Daddy, i-it's too much", you mewl and he pouts at you playfully, shakes his head.

"No, it isn't, is it? You can take it", his thumb caresses your cheek, gives you a sweet peck on the lips, "Be a good girl and take it. You can give me one more."

But you physically can't, and neither does your pussy, walls tightening around him, pushing against his hard dick. "Oh, das machen wir aber nicht, hm?", Christoph scolds, his other hand diving back between your spread legs, two fingers gently circling your clit. You hum, body immediately relaxing, and within a few moments the dull pain of him assaulting your used hole vanishes in thin air, sharp gasps escaping your parted lips, your juices running down your cunt.

"There we are. I knew you could take it", his grin is nothing but devilish, peppers your cheek with soft kisses, "I'm so proud of you, sunshine, hm? Taking it so much better than your mom. I knew you'd be the one."

Stretching your already used cunt further, he nestles back in fully, sighs deeply. "Like you were made for me, angel."

"Yes", you sigh sweetly, because you sure feel like it. Gently, careful even, Christoph continues to circle your clit, pinching and rubbing it. Your body slowly, slowly sinks away from you, growing light and all that is left is the feeling of his hands touching you, his cock buried deep inside of you. Every nerve-ending tingles with it, your brain only focussed on him and the way he feels, the way he smells, the way he sounds. The only thing left is him.

Your body goes limp, arms dangling at your sides as Christoph grabs your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and thrusts you onto his cock - once, twice. Deep thrusts, that make your blood sing.

"O-oh, oh Daddy", you gasp, eyes rolling back. Your body practically goes up in hot, burning flames of lust, sparks tingling in your thighs and your chest and you want him to run his hands all over you and feel you up, but you also don't want him to stop manhandling you like he does - all his pent up energy coming lose, practically giving you taste of how long and cruel his wait had been. If you weren't so fucked out of your mind, everything a little hazy already, you would touch yourself, but you just can't - all you can do is spread your legs wider, mouth agape while you pant and moan, relishing in the delicious feeling of his dick fucking you into oblivion.

Your jaw goes slack with it, head lolling back onto his shoulder as he uses you, hammers you down on his dick like a fleshlight. Christoph's grip on your waist and hips is hard enough to leave bruises and tomorrow morning you will be able to see them, an angry red, count the ways he marked you as his.

The thought of you being nothing more to Christoph than his pretty little cocksleeve - young and attractive - that he can take anywhere and fuck whenever he pleases, makes your head swim. You think about him dragging you along to some award-show, showing you off on the carpet and then bending you over the sink in one of the bathrooms because another actor looked at you for a second too long, fucking you until you can't really walk anymore - only to later sit in the award ceremony and feeling his cum leaking out of you. You think of him taking you out for dinner to a fancy restaurant - maybe even with some of his Hollywood-friends - playing with your pussy at the dinner table, whispering sweet nothings in your ear - just because he can, because who would even dare to stop him? You think about visiting him on set, waiting for him in his hotel room - adorned in the jewellery he has gifted you, nothing on but a revealing set of lingerie - waiting for him to take his stress out on you.

It makes you fucking wet, squirt gushing from your cunt, that runs down your folds and that he pumps back into your wanton hole. "Jesus, fuck", you whine, starting to roll your hips with the way he thrusts you down on his dick, feeling him deep deep inside of your pussy, thick head brushing over and hitting your cervix. Hearing him moan with it nearly makes you lose your mind.

You cry out - overstimulated, but so so horny - with his cum squelching out of you with every single thrust, mingling with your juices and dripping, squirting onto the sofa. There are pleas falling from your lips as you yell out with lust and Christoph's quick to clasp one hand around your mouth, your cries and deep moans muffled by the palm of his hand. Your eyelids flutter as you fuck yourself back against his thrusts, his cock hitting your cervix and pain and lust ignite your body, making you want to curl up and just take take take what he gives you.

You feel like you are on fire, your whole body responding to his touch and his thrusts, every single nerve in your body on high alert, as you feel your orgasm coming closer.

Looking down, you can see how he is still thrusting your body down on his dick and you watch, panting. Seeing just how he is using you, like you are nothing but a delicate toy --

It's what tips you over.

A high-pitched scream escapes your mouth as you cum, muffled by his hand pressing against your mouth - before he pulls away, allows you to suck in a few deep breaths through your opened mouth.

Your body practically convulses on his cock, shakes rattling your frame as your third orgasm rolls over you, creaming and squirting against his dick, making a pretty mess of his linen slacks and the sofa beneath. You have left quite a few nasty stains tonight, and your cheeks will turn red in a few days, when your mother spots them and Christoph lies to her face.

Your cunt squeezes his dick and you can feel it twitch heavily inside of you, once, twice, and then he cums too, shoots hot ropes of cum inside of your pussy once more. You feel so fucking full, like you are about to burst, as you roll your hips against his, cunt gushing around his cock.

"Oh fuck", you moan sweetly, sacking back against him. You can hear him pant, one hand on your waist coming lose and resting gently on your stomach, rubbing loose circles over your warm skin.

"What a good girl, huh", he whispers, coarse and exhausted. His words barely reach you through the thick cloud, everything turns white and a soft numbness embraces you, makes you feel featherlight, like you are flying. Christoph's arms wrap you in gently, pulling your naked form close to his, the soft linen crinkling and pressing against your naked back.

You stay like this for a while, with his large and soft hands caressing your skin - rubbing your stomach and gently stroking your thigh - until your breath becomes deeper again, your limbs start to feel heavier, more connected to your body once more. "Oh God", you sigh, feeling his cock still plugging your hole up. It grows flaccid slowly, a few drops of his cum already leaking out of you.

Christoph's lips dance along your shoulder, your neck, kissing and pressing down onto the warm skin. His hands grip your hips tightly. "Ready?", and he sounds so so playful, like he is really enjoying this - taking some depraved satisfaction from it - and you can't help but nod, readying for him to pull out.

He lifts your hips, watches how his dick slips out of your hole easily, hears you hiss with it, and then it trickles down. Thick drops, streaks of white cum flush from your used cunt, and he's quick to swipe his fingers along your folds - spreads your pussy and his cum, collects it with his fingers.

They enter your vision and without thinking, like you're still far gone - despite the fact that you aren't - he shoves them between your obediently opened, waiting lips. You close them around his fingers, while the remains of his cum drip out of you still, and start to clean them up, sucking on them, tongue swirling around his digits.

"That's a good girl", his praise has your blood singing, and you whine in protest as Christoph pulls his fingers from your mouth, "So, tell me - where do you go the next time you want a good fuck?"

"To you, Daddy", you say softly, earning you a warm chuckle and a pat on the thigh.

***

Your legs are still wobbly as you make your way downstairs in the morning and out onto the terrace. Your mother and Christoph are sitting in the sun, a light breeze rolling around the terrace, making the seam of the table cloth sway gently.

Your mother is silently eating her breakfast while Christoph rustles with his French newspaper. He appears to be interested in the Feuilleton but you notice how his gaze flickers to you as soon as you're approaching the table, remains glued to your figure, small lines forming around his eyes.

"Oh, honey!", your mother gets up, happy that you are awake, and gives you a featherlight kiss on the cheek, "Oh god, you look horrible, darling! Did you sleep unwell?"

Christoph snorts, but your mother ignores it - holds you at arm length, iron grip around your arms as she assesses your timid frame.

"Yeah, 's just the heat", you mutter, freeing yourself from her death grip and sit down, flinching a little. You're so fucking sore, legs still heavy and hole aching, pussy begging for another touch through the slight pain. Christoph deliberately puts down the newspaper, a smug smile toying at the corners of his lips. It grows rather surprised than complacent as he takes you in fully.

You are wearing one of the dresses he had bought you. You also draped a silk scarf around your shoulders, hiding the viciously glowing bitemark he gave you. His face is expressionless as he looks at you, his cold stare boring into you. For a moment you think, he might rat you out - tell your mother that you snuck out last night.

But he doesn't. Instead, he wordlessly pours you a glass of freshly pressed orange juice, hands it over to you. Your fingers brush over his, goosebumps spreading over your skin at the thought that just a couple of hours, they had been in you, fucking you to hell and back.

You can still feel them inside of you, growing wet at the thought, squirming a little in your chair. If it weren't for your mom sitting right next to you, you'd get up and beg him to fuck you. Your pussy aches at the imagery that your brain conjures up; tits bouncing, one leg hooked over his shoulder, the expensive dress pooling around your waist, glasses on the table clinking with each thrust.

Your mother - oblivious to what is happening in front of her - brabbles on about her plans for the day, while Christoph's gaze is chained to yours.

It feels like his eyes are undressing you, a shadow dances over his greyish eyes, turning them into a darkened sky. Your hand grips the glass tightly, thighs rubbing together. You really wish you could just --

"Careful", he says quietly, pointing at your hand clutching your glass so hard your knuckles start to turn white, and you let go of it, like you just burned yourself. The glass nearly topples over on the white table cloth, the juice trickles down the insides of it lazily, silent testimony to an accident prevented. He's right - it might've burst.

Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy. You want to get up and thank him properly, unzip his pants and --

"Don't you think, that'd be nice, honey?", your mother chimes, still busy with her avocado, and pulls you out of your daydream - you on your knees with Christoph rubbing his cock and balls across your face and making you look like a cheap whore, before he slips it between your plush, waiting lips with their red lipstick smudged - you barely manage not to moan aloud, quickly turning your head her way.

"Huh?", you blink dumbly.

"Honey", she scoffs, "I said - Do you wanna go to the beach today?"

You rather wouldn't. Especially not with your mother around, gushing about the man who fucked you senseless last night. You would rather spend the day with him alone.

Thus, your gaze flickers back to Christoph quicker than you can think about it, quicker than you can stop yourself from doing it. He gives you the slightest nod, that goes completely unnoticed by your mother and rearranges his reading glasses.

Thank you for thinking for me, Daddy.

"Sure, why not?", you can hear yourself say. Christoph rustles with his newspaper and somewhere, in the trees, a bird chimes.

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