#hans landa x reader

[keravnous]

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.

#christoph waltz #christoph waltz x reader #christoph waltz smut #my writing #smut #hans landa x reader #august rosenbluth x reader

[0bticeo]

landa watches you, still, with the rapt attention of a hawk. soon enough, he’ll be upon you, talons digging in your flesh. 

“we meet again, mademoiselle.”

“it’s getting awfully repetitive, don’t you think, standartenführer?”

there’s a smile on his face as he stands, as he inches closer towards you, circling you like precious prey. you feel his breath on your ear as he leans down, raising your hand to his lips. bastard.

“delightfully repetitive. although…” his fingers circle your wrist, gentle. dangerous. “it appears you've seen better days.”

you twist your wrist out of his grip, eyes digging holes in the closed file on his desk. 

“you have effectively invaded my country, mon colonel.”

#obticeo writes #inglorious basterds #hans landa x reader #inglorious basterds x reader #hans landa #snippet #yes this is the ff i mentioned before #is it going to flop #i hope not but hey #alea jecta est #wip. howlin' shame

[jokeringcutio]

Send me prompts about these men

My hands are aching for some of these men x reader drabbling

Mr Gold/ Rumplestiltskin

Loki

Hans Landa

Captain James Hook

Thomas Sharpe

Albert Shaw/ The Grabber

Arthur Harrow (Or Dr Harrow) (I'd also do Jake Lockley for you)

Arthur Fleck / Joker I'M EAGER TO WRITE AU'S AS WELL. Especially with villain x reader motifs. So hit me up &lt;3

#open for prompts #Loki x reader #arthur fleck x reader #mr gold x reader #rumplestiltskin x reader #joker x reader #hans landa x reader #captain hook x reader #arthur harrow x reader #Albert shaw x reader #grabber x reader #jake lockley x reader #thomas sharpe x reader

[unculturedswine-101]

Hans Landa fic rec Masterlist

Hey guys! I hope you are all doing well, sorry I’ve been inactive life has been so busy! Anyways linked below are my favourite Hans Landa fics (all are smut hehe). Please give them (and the writers) lots of love!

Writers from tumblr: @headoverhiddles @wingsy-keeper-of-songs

https://headoverhiddles.tumblr.com/post/175296308943/verf%C3%BChrung-hans-landa-x-reader-smut

https://headoverhiddles.tumblr.com/post/180536307223/geheimnisse-hans-landa-x-reader-smut

https://headoverhiddles.tumblr.com/post/184253007799/meister-hans-landa-x-reader-smut

https://wingsy-keeper-of-songs.tumblr.com/post/171882546983/katzchen

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22798186/chapters/54482155

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22798186/chapters/76507031#workskin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24481867

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284915/chapters/55764865

#christoph waltz #quentin tarantino #hans landa #inglorious basterds #christoph waltz imagines #christoph waltz x reader #hans landa imagines #hans landa x reader #thebasterds #aldo raine

[cozywriting]

Love, from Nantucket

It is post-World War II, and the Nazi regime has fallen. Officiated war veteran and former S.S Hans Landa is living free from persecution as a local detective on Nantucket Island. Life suddenly takes a turn when Hans intertwines with a familiar face and conflicts arise when faced with the message: You can never thoroughly escape your past.

A character study centered on Tarantino's rounded, complex villain, Hans Landa.

“Wouldn’t you rather know if there are any Jews hiding under our feet?”

“No, because it’s you I wish to know about."

Pairing: Hans Landa x oc

Genre: Romance & Drama

Part I: Au Revoir

Chapters 1 & 2 available:

AO3 

Wattpad

#inglourious basterds #hans landa #hans landa x oc #inglourious basterds fanfiction #hans landa fanfiction #christoph waltz #quentin tarantino #romance #christoph waltz x reader #hans landa x reader #cozy writes #finally got this up!! chapters 1 & 2 ready to go <3 #lfn

[one-boring-person]

Hello, I hope you are having a great day :)

I saw that you're requests are open again so I'm sliding in to ask if you would write a scene about Hans Landa getting railed doggy style by an m!reader

Btw love your writing :3

Thank you so much! I hope you like this!😊💛

Crude Words.

Colonel Hans Landa (Inglourious Basterds) x m!reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, dirty talk, swearing

Masterlist

Like my work? Buy me a coffee!😊

Admittedly, I could've picked a better place for this. 

I can feel bruises already beginning to form on my knees, and the mewling colonel beneath me must be feeling the ache in his own legs now, but I can't find it in me to care, having pushed the man onto the floor some time ago now, off of the sofa that's placed beside us. He had complained, but a sharp slap to his ass has silenced that. 

I look over Hans as he sighs and arches his back, trying to grind back against me. Moments before, I had him pressed down onto the floor with my body flat against his, my still clothed crotch grinding hard against his bare ass, dragging sharp gasps of pleasure from him as his weeping cock rubbed against the cushion propped under his crotch. Landa's head is still twisted to the side, ready to receive the kisses and bites I laid on his neck, his lips parted from the pleasure, panting loudly with each mark I sucked onto his shoulder. In my grip, his hands clenched into fists, his ass lifting to arch into me. The man begged for me to do more, so here I obliged. 

Now, he writhes beneath me, pushing his ass back against my crotch, trying to get me to move. It sends lust straight through me to see such a self-important man looking so utterly pathetic. 

I smooth my hand over his ass, gripping it tightly to hear a moan of need from him. 

"Please, please just do something…fuck, I need it…" Hans whimpers, doubling his efforts.

"Such crude words from someone so eloquent." I mock him, running my finger between his cheeks, pressing against his tight hole, " What do you need, Colonel? Tell me clearly."

It sends a thrill through me, being so impertinent to a superior officer, knowing full well he could easily have me severely punished for speaking out of my place but won't. He seems to enjoy the thought, too - beneath him, his cock twitches, leaking onto the floor.

"I need your cock…" The colonel replies, apparently forgetting completely that he's the proud type.

"Is that right?" I tease him, spitting on his asshole, maneuvering the liquid round with my finger. He mewls in need, pushing against my hand.

"Yesss, please I need your cock inside me…" Hans moans out, clenching his fist in front of him where his arm is spread to keep him upright.

"You'll have to wait a minute or so for me to prepare you, Colonel. Wouldn't want to go in raw, now, would I?" I mock him once more, ramming my finger into his ass.

Immediately, he groans and clenches around the digit, sighs and pants of pleasure escaping him as I start to thrust my hand. I quickly add another finger to the mix, becoming inpatient as the man begins to get more and more desperate. My cock twitches in my briefs, eager to be pushed into the hot ass clenched around my fingers. After a minute or so, I oblige the ache in my groin.

Removing my hand, I say nothing to Hans as I pull my slacks and underwear down, spitting on my hand to lubricate my length before moving it to his tight hole. 

"Don't be too loud now, Colonel." I taunt before shoving my cock into him.

The response from both of us is instant. 

Our combined moans echo loudly around the room, my head falling back as I feel Hans' heat enveloping my cock, sucking me further into his body, squeezing me in all the right ways. I have to take a moment to adjust myself so I don't cum immediately, gripping the colonel's hips tightly as he pants beneath me. 

After a moment, I pull out, waiting for the needy whine before I ram myself straight back into him, setting a brutal pace. My lust is hot in my veins, every wild instinct taking over as I pound into the heavenly beat surrounding my cock, animalistic grunts escaping me with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, almost loud enough to drown out Hans' cries of pure ecstasy. His back is arched, hands scrabbling at the floor, incoherent pleas and praises falling from his gaping lips, sweat beading all over his flawless skin.

I move one hand to his shoulder, using it for the extra leverage, thrusting harder into his quivering hole. Small bruises are already forming where my fingers were before, the promise of leaving more on his skin sending me into overdrive. My hips slam against the colonel's ass, the force beginning to push him down onto the floor properly. Every stroke of my cock inside him seems to be hitting his prostate, sharp cries mixing with his deeper moans of pleasure, spurring me on as I feel my climax starting to build. 

"Fuck…I need to cum…please, you feel so good…" Hans moans underneath me, trying and failing to push his hips back against mine.

"Yeah? You need to cum? Going to clench around my hard cock in your tight ass and shoot all over the floor without me even touching your pathetic little prick?" I snarl down at him, breathless myself as I drive into his ass. In all fairness, the thought has me threatening to spill.

"Yes! Please, please let me cum! Please!" His begging sends a jagged pulse of lust through me and I feel my cock twitch.

"Fuck, do it. Cum on my cock, you worthless whore." I don't realise what I've said until Hans has let out a frankly pornographic moan and cum all over the floor below him, his ass turning into a vice around me, encouraging me to spill inside him.

With a loud groan, I wrap my arms around his waist and finish deep inside him, shooting hot ropes of cum into the velvety hold of his ass. My head falls to Hans' back, my teeth finding the damp skin to keep myself quiet as I pull the man's ass tightly back against me, grunting at the feeling of his hole clenching and squeezing. The feeling of intense pleasure washes over me, leaving my mind blissfully blank.

"I'd rather not spend all day on the floor, Hauptsturmführer." Hans' voice brings me back to the present, the commanding, all-knowing tone back in his voice. 

It grounds me back in reality, my face going red as I realise that I still have my cock in his ass. 

"Sorry, Colonel." I apologise quickly, sitting back upright and slowly pulling myself out of him, trying to ignore my brief flush of desire as I see the cum dripping from his gaping hole. 

Standing, I pull my trousers back up, tucking myself away as I watch Hans climb to his feet, lazily pulling on his own uniform again, not looking at me. As he pieces himself together again, he finally turns around, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Thank you, Hauptsturmführer. Your service has been exemplary." He reaches out and pats my shoulder patronisingly, "You are dismissed." 

Nodding stiffly, I swallow and leave, fighting back the disappointment welling up inside me. 

#break writes #christoph waltz #hans landa smut #hans landa imagine #hans landa x reader #Hans Landa #Inglourious Basterds

[stupidfuckingwindow]

#horrendous flirting #inglourious basterds memes #inglorious basterds (2009) #inglorious basterds #inglourious basterds #does this count as #inglorious basterds x reader #hans landa #christoph waltz #aldo raine #brad pitt

[purplelupins]

Rapture

Part II

Summery: A call from a friend needing a favour would turn into the biggest opportunity of your life. You can’t help but hand on for dear life along the way, but the held you get from a new acquaintance serves to pull you through it.

Pairing: Christoph Waltz x fem!reader

Warnings: Reader has anxiety, age-gap, suggestive conversations but nothing explicit, kissing ***The 3rd part will be NSFW so please proceed with caution. DNI if you are a minor!

Note: warnings will change for each part so please read them. This is the most self-indulgent piece of writing I have ever made. I can’t write a summery to save my life.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Your hands began to curl against themselves as you stared up at the bright tv screen. Even from backstage, you could hear the laughter of the audience, and it only made the butterflies in your stomach take flight. Your jaw clenched and unclenched; every hair seemed to tickle and irritate you. It was like your nerves had a mind of their own.

The intern clipping your microphone to your beautiful black dress quickly left the room. As soon as you heard the click of the door, you let out a long breath; ever since completing the film, you had been coached on public appearances, which included even the smallest interactions. So now as you sat without the public eye, you let yourself spiral a little.

You were sitting, waiting to be called into the orange and purple set to be interviewed for the first time. In hopes of elevating some stress, you closed your eyes. You half wished you were able to ease into the promotion with a smaller, less known talk-show, but no.

No your first interview was going to be on the Graham Northam Show.

“Fräulein?”

A slow sigh left you as you opened your eyes to see green ones staring back.

“Ah, there you are,” Christoph said, crouched in front of you, “Eyes on me. Deep breath in, yes?” He murmured, taking an exaggerated breath. A small smile graced your nervous face as you followed his lead.

This had become a common practice between the two of you since becoming co-stars. Just as he had been on the set of Inglorious Bastards, Christoph was often kept away from the rest of the cast so as to build the air of mystery around his enigmatic character. However, much to your surprise and panic, Tarantino had told and encouraged the two of you to spend as much off time together as you could.

While it petrified you at first, Christoph was quick to make you feel at ease. You knew he was a self-proclaimed snob -his words, not yours- but it seemed that he toned that specific nature down a notch or two when around you when your anxiety was high. Which was often.

He was a true gentleman, if you were honest.

“Can you take another breath, please?” He asked you, waiting patiently while you did as he asked.

“Thank you, Mr. Waltz…” You said as your last deep breath hissed from your lips.

He waved a hand and tsked you, “I won’t stand to have your first interview ruined by those nerves of yours. That’s the hosts job.” He said dryly.

You let out a little laugh, ignoring the blush on your cheeks as he took your hand.

“Does your hand hurt?” He asked, rubbing a circle around the scar by your knuckle.

“A little sore…definitely better than five months ago.” You said with a laugh, “How are your-“ you tapped your ear with your free hand and nodded to the almost invisible wire disappearing into his ear canal; his hearing aids.

“Good. Don’t blame me if I turn them off though.” He joked. You smiled and nodded.

Christoph clapped a hand onto your hand and stood, “Now I think we are going to be on soon- ah.” He said, acknowledging the assistant the opened the door as soon as he spoke.

“Mr. Waltz, Ms. l/n, if you’ll follow me?” They said.

“Bereit?(Ready?)” Christoph asked you, fully waiting until you spoke to move.

With one more deep breath, you said “Yes.”

The two of you followed the assistant down the hall to the flank of the stage. The sound of Graham Norton’s voice greated you as you stood there. Your mind began to reel as you remembered where you were.

How many times had you watched this program?

Laughed at people mocking Graham’s laugh or commenting on the state of the red couch?

Your throat felt dry.

But just as you started to clench your jaw, you felt a warm hand slip into yours and offer a small squeeze.

“Unclench.” He murmured gently.

You laughed softly, and saw him smirk from the corner of your eye.

“-But first, we have the cast of the most anticipated comedy noir of the year. You may know him best for his roles in Inglorious Bastards, Django Unchained, or Sepectre. He is a two time Oscar winner with a wit that will make you cry; please welcome Christoph Waltz!”

The assistant next to the both of you gave Christoph the sign to go, and as he took a step, he cast you a look of encouragement. You watched as he disappeared up the stairs, and he was greeted with a roar of applause.

You heard him being welcomed, and slowly the cheering died down. Then, your nerves came back tenfold when you heard the host once again.

“Now, the second part, and dare I say much prettier part-“ the audience laughed, “- of this duo may not be known to many of you. This is her first film, but most certainly not the last; please welcome the lovely y/n l/n!”

Just as they had with Christoph, they gave you the signal to go, and just like that, your ears ceased to work. The sound of the audience was deafening as the stage lights blinded you.

You waved to the audience, and yourheart beat in your ears, but you did your best to muster the dazzling smile you had been coached on, and shook the hand of the world renowned Talkshow host. Then, as he spoke, your hearing came back.

“Welcome, please take a seat, get comfortable!” Graham said joyfully as he shook your hand and held his arm out for you to follow Christoph to the red couch.

You gave him another smile and said, “Thank you so much.”

As you crossed to sit next to Christoph, he stood politely, and gestured next to him. The sofa beneath you had definitely seen better days, and the lack of back made you sit up straight.

You took a few more deep breaths, and cast a look over to Christoph who was clearly more comfortable than yourself. He gave you a charming smile and shifted in his seat as you both turned to look out at the audience who continued to clap. You then shifted your gaze to look up at the host who had yet to sit as he too clapped, nodding along with the audience.

“Hello hello!” He said, finally taking his seat. You were closest to him, and had to admit that his friendly demeanour put you at ease, “Welcome! Welcome back Christoph, such a pleasure to have you here again.”

“Thank you.! Good to be back.” Christoph said with a polite nod.

“And Y/n you’ve never been on the show at all, I don’t believe.” Graham said, leaning towards you a little.

You held your hands tightly in your lap, but your smile would never give away your nerves. “You’re quite right. This is actually my first interview ever!” You chimed.

Graham nodded enthusiastically, “What an honour to have you then.” He said, then he leaned a little closer as if to tell you something private, “Now, I must confess something to the both of you.” His tone was mock-serious.

You nodded and could feel Christoph lean against you, presumably to listen. Regardless of the reason you were elated.

Graham looked out at the audience then back to you with a shy, mischievous expression, “I don’t want you to think we don’t know how to work our equipment…” he began, “…But I think there was a technical issue with your mics, because it seemed that they picked up a rather sweet moment between you two backstage.”

You looked back at Christoph who looked at you, his face neutral as he shrugged, but your brows rose and your cheeks burned uncontrollably. It seemed that it only spurred the excited audience on as they began to “Aww”

“Are you alright?” Graham asked, knowing your were embarrassed as you hid your face in your hands.

Christoph placed a reassuring hand on your back, which helped you to sit tall again and take a breath. “Yes, I think I’ll survive.”

Graham laughed gently, his eyes sympathetic to let you know he wasn’t mocking you.

“And by the way Christoph, I did take offence to your comment about the host ruining the interview.” He said, leaning past you a little to see the man next to you.

Christoph just shifted and shrugged a shoulder, “Well it seems that everything is going according to plan.” He replied with that dry wit you loved. You both laughed softly, your eyes crinkling at the sides. Graham joined in with that signature laugh you had giggled at many times.

You continued to speak, knowing you were there for a reason and you weren’t going to be a boring guest. “ I have quite bad anxiety, and Mr. Waltz, being the kind gentleman he is, has truly been my knight in shining armour since joining the film. He’s been very good at calming my nerves.” You surprised even yourself with how composed your here able to make yourself seem.

Graham, being the humorous pervert he is, raised his eyebrows at the mention of Christoph calming your nerves, “Hello.” He chimed, and laughed with the audience.

You, once again, blushed, but the man was quick to move on. His comedic timing was always your favourite.

“And I heard you speaking a little German to one another. I’ve heard that you’ve been learning German on set is that right?” Graham asked, curious.

Your mouth fell open, and no words came out as Christoph leaned over to you to join the conversation and said, shocked, “You told me you learned German in Highschool.”

You looked to him, and tried to laugh it off before sighing and nodding in agreement with the host’s statement, “I…I have. I thought it would be nice if Mr. Waltz could speak his mother tongue on set….so I stared teach myself German.” You said looking down at your hands then back up to Graham.

“Oh yes I’m sure he’s good with his tongue.” He teased, which only served to make you blushed again, but you smiled to hide your embarrassment. “Alright let’s leave the poor girl alone for a while,” he turned his attention then to Christoph, who still sat quite close to you, though he had removed his hand from your back, “Now Christoph, I understand you are back into your usual role as a villain in this new film, Rapture, is that right?”

You leaned back a little to look at your co-star, curious to see how he answered. Christoph absorbed the question and thought for half a second.

“Well…no.” He said a matter-of-factly, “My character is more of a love-sick puppy with good manners, strong morals, and stunning suits.” A charming smile graced his handsome face as he answered. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face as he spoke. He was right about his character, after all; Maximilian was exactly a love sick puppy.

Graham burst into surprised laughter and looked even more curious, “Are we both speaking about the same film? Maybe you both did a secret film I’m not aware of…?”

When you looked back at Christoph, who only gazed back at you , you smiled again and decided to help out, “I have to agree with Mr. Waltz…Maximilian and my character, Lena, are both a little off kilter but just two people in love. Lena gets wrapped up in this eccentric man’s life who just so happens to be a renowned killer…who is afraid of blood.” You said with a little laugh.

Graham looked between the two of you, then to the audience as if to confirm what he had heard. “I’m sorry what? Afraid of…”

“Blood yes.” Christoph smiled with a satisfied nod and a light chuckle.

“I see…” The host said slowly.

You continued, “ And so she becomes a part of his life in a way…but she sort of starts to see his side of things and they start to fall into this morbid codependent relationship.” You finished with a small smile.

“Sounds like my usual Friday nights!” Graham said, earning a laugh from the audience, “Now I have to ask, because I think the last time you were on the show Christoph I asked this too, but did either of you sustain any injuries?” Graham asked, crossing a leg over the other.

Christoph shook his head “Thankfully no physical wounds. Psychological, perhaps.” They all laughed a little. “I believe you hurt your hand quite badly, didn’t you Fräulein?” Christoph asked, feigning innocence when you blushed and looked away from him.

You nodded and tried to focus on your hand, “Yes…there’s one scene that you’ll see in the film where Mr. Waltz’s character and mine are at a peak of their relationship-“

Graham shot you a suggestive look and you sputtered, only resulting in the audience laughing again.

You waved your hands, “-No! No nothing like that.” You tried to recover, “No, but there is an argument and in the heat of the moment…I punched the wall and almost shattered my hand. I think it’s almost a tradition on a Tarantino film- just look at Leo in Django!” You tried to play it off like you were flooded with filthy images of your co-star.

“She does have a hard punch.” Christoph added quietly with a smirk.

You gasp,“I never hit you that hard.”

Christoph waved a dismissive hand at your shocked look with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Oh any touch of yours was welcome.” He said, adding a charming grin at the end; you bit the inside of your cheek and looked at Graham, only to see him fanning himself animatedly with his cards; looking out at the audience- they laughed and Graham took a moment to clear his throat before continuing.

“Shall we all leave?” He asked, “ I feel like we’re intruding.” He gestured to you and Christoph.

Again, you all had a good laugh, which helped the interview along.

“Well now I have to ask, how was it filming with each other? Y/n I know this was your first big film, was it intimidating to work with such a star-studded cast?” Graham asked, leaning back in his seat.

You relaxed into the couch, and thought for a moment.

“Oh I don’t think I said more than two words to Mr. Waltz until he all but cornered me and asked about my anxiety,” You said with a small laugh looking back at Christoph who listened to you as you spoke, “But after I think the first week, I got used to it. They were all very lovely, honestly!” You said.

“Even the infamous grouch next to you?” The Irishman asked cheekily from behind his cards.

“Especially him.” You said plainly. “The other person I worked with a bit was Tim Roth, and he was good fun.” You smiled.

However, only Graham saw the colder expression on Christoph’s face at the mention of the other man.

Graham smiled wickedly, “Now you two seem to get along quite well, just as your characters do onscreen.” He gestured animatedly between the two of you, “Are you aware of the cult following this film has? You two have quite the fanbase.”

Christoph’s brows pinched together, “The film is barely out.” He seemed genuinely surprised.

Graham was positively giddy to see the two of you shocked, and - on your part- embarrassed. “Oh you’re right, but regardless you two have started to have quite the fan base from just the trailer and released clips alone.”

You looked at Graham, confused. You knew what a fanbase was- hell, you were a part of a few yourself, but you where having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that people were actual fans of yours. “W-what do you mean?” You asked, a little nervously.

“Means they want you two to bone, my dear.” Graham said factually. The audience laughed, and you exchange a look with Christoph who showed little emotion aside from a raised brow. But you knew better; you knew he was amused.

“Now y/n, I believe you were not actually a part of the original cast, is that right?” Graham asked, pointing at you with a card.

“Yes,” You breathed out, “It was a bit of a whirlwind…it all happened very fast. But I WAS working on set previously.”

“Oh? Do tell. This seems like a story within a story! I don’t know what I want to know more about- this or Rapture.” He said with a laugh, and the audience joined.

You looked to Christoph again, and he flicked his eyes from Graham to you, and your cheeks warmed again. Then you looked away before you could fully blush.

“It was all because of a friend of mine needing a favour, really.” You began, smiling as you thought about how such a silly thing changed your life, “I was working as an assistant to the costuming department, and so I essentially would patch up any tears, or missing buttons- the real work was left to the more experienced crew. But as you already exposed, I had learned a little German in case I ever interacted with the esteemed gentleman to my left…and it seemed that it came in handy.” You laughed, and heard Christoph chuckle a little. “Well, the previous actress who was playing Lena…exited the project and…well Mr. Waltz seemed to think I might make a quick fix and Quentin seemed to agree…the rest, I suppose is history!” You chimed, with a small shrug.

Graham shook his head and laughed, “So now, as you said earlier, you two were working very closely on the film…How did that work? Because I’ve heard that you, Christoph, are often kept away from the rest of the cast, especially in your first film with Tarantino- Inglorious Bastards?”

Christoph nodded, “Yes, indeed, I was quarantined in this film as well…but Quentin allowed y/n and I to…bond.” He said with a little smirk. You smiled softly, remembering how many times the two of you had sat for hours talking or sitting in silence comfortably.

But Graham caught his smirk, and laughed along, “Just bond?” He teased.

Christoph laughed a little, “Yes. Just bond.” He looked at you for the briefest of moments, but you were too busy sharing a cheeky, chastising look with Graham.

Indeed the two of you had gotten to know each other very well. The film itself was very intimate, and it was impossible to not grow attatched; though you wondered if it was just you who pined for affection. There had been countless late nights of running lines and on more than one occasion, strolling through the sleepless streets together.

Quentin had come to call the two of you new duo names every day; from Peanut butter and jelly, to Jekyll and Hyde. It might have been a little childish on your part, but you liked to think you and Christoph were good friends. You hoped dearly that the two of you would maintain your relationship beyond the press tour, even if it simply remained platonic like pen-pals.

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Graham laughed, looking past you to Christoph.

You all laughed a little, and Graham soon regained his composure before returning to you, “I believe you have a little hidden talent too.” Graham said secretively.

The blood drained from your face. It must have showed on your face that you were nervous again, before Christoph shifted next to you again.

“Talent?” You asked, trying to hide your anxiety.

This only made the host giddier.

“Well I’ve heard that you have quite the lovely little voice.”

You couldn’t help but sit there as Christoph looked at you, shocked. “What?”

You sighed and looked at Graham in the eye, “Does this anonymous source start with a J?”

“It might.” He said, hiding behind his cards.

Jules.

Graham smiled and said, “Would you humour us with a live performance?” The look he gave you from behind his cards was sheepish as he gestured to a microphone being set up off to the side. You sent him a scathing stare, but you lightened it up with a small, incredulous smile.

“Any song?” You asked, heart beating erratically.

“Any. If you need a moment to find-“

“No…I have one in mind.” You cut him, “May I speak with the sound engineers?” You spoke as calmly as you could.

“Yes, they’re just over there.”He pointed off stage.

You looked to see a small booth and nodded.“Graham, you are a sneaky little man.” You said, standing. “Please excuse me, Mr. Waltz, I’m about to embarrass myself as gracefully as I can.”

You half expected the man to say a smart comment, but as you went to walk past him, he only stared up at you with that unreadable expression he wore so often.

The audience clapped, and you did your best to steady the anxiety that seemed to inhabit every hair on your body. You strode to the booth, and found a few men with headsets waiting for you. Their eyes were sympathetic.

Christoph stared you, and blinked after a minute, before looking back at Graham. The host leaned over to him and asked, “I take it you’ve never heard her sing?”

“No.” Christoph shook his head, “She didn’t even tell me she sang.” He did his best to remain as calm as he usually was, but on the inside, he was ecstatic. Music was his second dearest love, next to film, and if you sang nicely he was determined to have you sing for him more often. A part of him wondered why you had never told him.

“Secretive, is she?” Graham asked him.

“Well…apparently.” Christoph said- his voice going up at the end with a little laugh.

You return to the standing mic, wringing your hands nervously. You had chosen an easy song; something that felt close to your heart at that moment.

“Ready?” You heard Graham ask.

You turned to look over at the two men staring at you. One excitedly, one softly. After a moment of adjusting the mic, you nodded with a secret little smile that you send to your co-star. The one he returned is curious, but pleasant.

The sound of soft piano began to fill the air, and you felt your shoulders relax.

Breathe.

“Slow down you crazy child

You're so ambitious for a juvenile

But then if you're so smart tell me,

Why are you still so afraid?

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?

You better cool it off before you burn it out

You got so much to do and only

So many hours in a day

But you know that when the truth is told

That you can get what you want

Or you can just get old

You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through

When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?” The song you had listened to for years fell from your tongue easily, though you had to keep from laughing; you were certain you would get a few comments from your Viennese co-star. Regardless, you found comfort in the song- it was bittersweet and melancholic.

Christoph watched you, and unbeknownst to him, Graham watched his every move; he had seen thousands of co-stars interview, but it was rare to see two so enamoured with each other.

“Slow down you're doing fine

You can't be everything you want to be before your time

Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight

Too bad, but it's the life you lead

You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need

Though you can see when you're wrong

You know you can't always see when you're right,

You got your passion, you got your pride

But don't you know that only fools are satisfied?

Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true

When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?

Slow down you crazy child

Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while

It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two

When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?

And you know that when the truth is told

That you can get what you want or you can just get old

You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through

Why don't you realize... Vienna waits for you?

When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?”

You enjoyed the piano as it slowed and faded. Then, as you came back to reality, you could have heard a pin drop for a full five seconds. Then your ears rang as the audience erupted with applause. You smiled slowly and ducked your head and you bowed graciously.

As you approached the larger stage, you almost tripped when you saw the vibrant smile on Christoph’s face. He stood and took your arms to help you get by him, and as you both sat he placed a kiss on your knuckles; this did not go unnoticed by your fiery host.

“Wonderful performance, y/n. Though I must say that it seems as though you have been harbouring some secrets.” He teased, “Christoph here didn’t even know you sang.”

“Anything else you want to tell me fraulein?” Christoph asked, leaning closer to you on the small back rest.

Graham gasped joyfully at you and chuckled, “How do you manage to keep yourself together around him y/n? If he called me that I would get no work done at all…and if he kissed my hand like that I would just-“ he waves his hand “- explode.”

Y/n smiled shyly, “Oh…I can’t say I’m much better than you Graham. Mr. Waltz is certainly a man of words.” You cast him a soft look, and saw that he was already looking.

“Only words?”

The audience laughed, and you whipped your head back to Graham at his comment.

“I work with what I can.” Christoph said cheekily, shifting a little.

You laughed softly, trying to ignore the fact that your heart was trying to jump out of your chest and run to the older man staring at you.

“Y/n I noticed that you call this esteemed gentleman by his last name. Is that some sort of rule or…?” Graham asked cheekily.

You played along with his mischievous grin, “Oh no, it started on day one of us working together actually…I was so nervous that it felt strange to call him Christoph-“

It seemed that the fact that said gentleman closed his eyes and sucked in a breath at the sound of his name from your lips escaped most attention.

“-so I called him Mr. Waltz. I have actually been a massive fan of his work for a very long time; besides I think it gives him a certain amount of respect. God knows he deserves it.” You said, turning around to say the last part to Christoph.

“You are too kind Fräulein.” He cooed to you, making Graham spin away and bite his fist.

“Y/n does he call you that in the film?” Graham asks cheekily; his accent coming out as he got excited.

You sighed and nodded. “ Max is Austrian…so he…he does.”

The host shook his head and slapped his cards on the table next to him.

“That’s it I’m becoming an actor! Get Tarantino on the phone!” Graham gushes and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, but when you turned to look at Christoph, you swore he stared a little longer at you with something else in his face.

“Well I think that’s all we have time for tonight folks! You can see these two in “Rapture” this Friday, have a good night!” Graham, you waved with Christoph to the camera.

“Aaand we’re out.” Comes the voice of one of the producers.

Graham looked out at the sound “Are the mics off this time?” He asked cheekily, to which he received a thumbs up. With the privacy, Graham turned back to the both of you, and his voice relaxed.

“It was such a pleasure to have you both here tonight. Y/n I hope you’re alright…the nerves seemed to wear off by the middle, yes?” Graham asked kindly.

You took a breath and nodded, and relaxed when Christoph rubbed her back.

“Yes…can’t say I’m not nervous, but I’ll get used to it. I’m just glad Mr. Waltz agreed to have me tour with him.” You said sweetly.

Graham laughed.

“I don’t think he could have said no. If I wasn’t -“ he flicks a limp wrist wrist “ - swinging the other way I could just eat you up!” Graham laughed harder when Christoph just stared at him with that stoic face.

“Oops, I think I touched a nerve.” Graham laughed, “It was such a pleasure to see you again, y/n I wish you the best of luck for the rest of your interviews.” He shook your hand as you stood.

“It was a pleasure, Graham…an embarrassing one but still a pleasure. Auf wiedersehen.” You smiled, and looked back at Christoph who stood just behind your shoulder.

“As the young lady said, auf wiedersehen.” The older man said, extending his hand to shake Graham’s.

As you descended the stairs to go backstage, you heard Christoph sigh.

It was not annoyed or exasperated.

Not even disappointed.

But you knew he liked his quiet time, so you left him alone until he spoke first.

An intern unclipped your mics, and handed you both some water, which you both accepted with a polite “thank you.”

You smiled at the sound of Christoph’s soft voice. Not many people knew how gentle he was behind the camera; you counted yourself unbelievably lucky to be able to say that you did.

As you were escorted out of the building, and into your transport vehicle, Christoph placed a hand on the small of your back as he had many times.

You thought back to when he had taken you to the smallest German restaurant one night after filming; he had claimed it was the best he had found. And if you were honest, it was some of the most delicious food you had eaten.

You thought about how he had indulged you with the information that one of his guilty pleasures are bubble baths. That memory made you giggle softly beside him as you relaxed in the back seat, being driven to your hotel.

“Something funny?”

You turned your head and looked at Christoph who was already looking at you with amusement.

“I was…I just remembered when you told me you liked bubble baths.” You said, grinning a little.

“I might just need one tonight…” he mused, placing his chin in his hand as he looked out the window.

“Geht es dir gut?(are you alright?)” You asked gently.

After a second, the older man turned back to you and held his other arm out to you. You scooted over and let his wrap his arm around your shoulders, and press a kiss to your temple.

“Ich denke nur nach. (Im just thinking)” He murmured, albeit a little absentmindedly.

“Okay.” You whispered, letting him be.

You shut your hotel room door, and leaned against it. Your feet hurt, your stomach was growling, and your face felt heavy.

By the time you were showered and clad soft pyjamas, it was almost midnight. You were just about to curl up in bed and find a film to watch when you were startled by a knock on your door. Your nerves began to ramp up as your mind ran faster and faster as you stepped closer to the door.

But then, as you looked cautiously through the peephole, you let out a sigh of relief and unlocked the door and swung it open. “Hey stranger…is everything alright?” You asked, eyeing Christoph with a tilted head. He was usual fairly diligent about sleeping an appropriate amount of time, so this was a little odd.

“Yes, yes.” He said quickly, but without much care, “May I?” He nodded into the room.

You nodded and stood aside. “Of course…come in.” However, as he walked past you couldn’t help the deep breath you took; you had to try and not pass out from the wonderful smell that followed him- he must have showered. Your suspensions were confirmed when you noticed his comfortable clothes and damp hair.

As you turned back to him, you found the older man already sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg over the other. You didn’t blame him for skipping the armchair- you had both already commented on how hard they were when you had arrived. You sat beside him, and took a slow breath. “Did I do alright? I hope I didn’t say anything wrong- it was my first interview and I-“

“You learned German on set?” Christoph said, turning to you. Your heart almost leapt out of your chest at the question.

Was he mad?

Disappointed?

“I-…well yes. When- when I found out you were among the cast, I thought it might be nice for you to have someone to speak to in your native tongue…even if it was just a little. Your English is wonderful but I can only imagine how tiring it can be to keep it up.” You said quietly, looking at your hands.

He was quiet for a moment, absorbing your words.

“Why didn’t you tell me, meine Schatzi?” He says softly, leaning onto his thighs.

Your heart swelled at the nickname; he had only used it once after a night out with the rest of the cast post filming. It would probably be your favourite out of all the things he called you.

“Mr. Waltz…” you chose your next words carefully, “I have been a very big fan of your work for a long time…” You said, hoping it wouldn’t put him off “You’re an intimidating character because you are so charming and intelligent and that draws people in. I cannot begin to tell you what an inspiration you are, not just to me but to so many people. You’re funny and articulate and calculated and dedicated, and respectful…I was so nervous, and I wanted you to be comfortable around me…but I was a bit nervous. Hell you’ve seen me avoid getting a coffee from a café before just because I felt intimidated.” You said, laughing a little at yourself. You looked up to see those green eyes you loved staring back; he was listening so intently.

“Are you still intimidated?” He asked after a moment.

“Ein wenig…(a Little…)” You said sheepishly; earning you a little smile from the older man. It was sympathetic and kind, not condescending.

“Come here.” He said quietly, holding his arm out to hug you to his side. You clenched your hands to keep from fully curling up into his lap, but it seemed that he took it as a sign of nerves.

“I don’t bite, Fräulein.” Christoph murmured, his accent thickening with tiredness, and your jaw clenched at the sound. This man didn’t know what he did to you in the slightest…

After a moment, you relented and sat yourself closer, and leaned into his embrace; Christoph brushed a little hair from your face, and sighed softly.

“Good choice, by the way.” The older man murmured as he held you.

Your brows scrunched together in confusion, and as you thought, Christoph aided you.

“Your song choice.” He said.

Your ears burned again when you remembered that you had indeed sang on live TV.

“The song brought me a lot of comfort when I was younger…it still does. Plus I thought it would be a little funny.” You said with a soft laugh.

“It was. I enjoyed it immensely.” He said, rubbing your arm which only made you melt more.

You both sat there for a moment in a comfortable quiet, just looking out the window by the bed; the city was still alight with life and it made you smile.

“Tell me, is there anything else you’re hiding from me, little one?” Christoph murmured into your hair.

You felt your cheeks burn, and found yourself looking at your hands again knowing there was no makeup to hide it.

“Ah ah,” Christoph tsked, “Look at me when I’m speaking to you, please.”

Your ears burned, and you knew there was no hiding the blush, so you took a long breath to steady your head and brought your eyes up to meet his. Christoph grinned, satisfied.

“There’s a good girl.” He cooed, “Now, tell me.”

Christoph spoke as if he wasn’t Christoph Waltz, and you weren’t smitten with him. So casually.

Your head felt light and your hands were warm. Not that you were ashamed or uncomfortable by being there next to him- quite the contrary. You found yourself melting into his touch, but you knew he was wearing down your resolve. He wanted to know exactly who he was dealing with, and you were too embarrassed to tell him.

It was a little ironic really; who you were. He had said it himself that very evening.

A love-sick puppy.

“I don’t think I should…” You started, but Christoph quirked an eyebrow and your words died on your tongue.

“I do.” He said plainly, giving your arm one more squeeze before releasing you entirely. You found yourself missing his warmth, and almost whined when he stood and perched on the uncomfortable armchair. The older man leaned his chin into his hand and raised his pinky to run along his bottom lip.

His bold statement made you squirm, and you looked away again, breathing out a laugh, “Mr. Waltz-“

“Christoph.” He corrected, almost chiding.

You stared back at him, not knowing what to say; your brain was beginning to short circuit bad enough as it was.

“You will call me Christoph when we are alone, yes?” He said comfortably, removing his pinky to speak easier.

This time, you managed to nod without blushing too much, and shifted a little.

“Good. Now!” He stood, “I do believe I interrupted your evening, I will leave you to it-“

You stood quickly, and he paused, “Actually I’m…you didn’t at all- I was just going to find a film to watch…not that there’s ever anything good on their lists.” You shrugged, hoping he would stay.

Christoph regarded you for a moment and smiled, “Then it is your lucky night because I was actually about to watch a film I found that I think you will enjoy!” He chirped. Your heart swelled again at the sight of his pride.

You returned his smile and nodded, “Well how can I say no to that.”

“I will also add that I have food.” He said teasingly, knowing that you were likely hungry, and never denied his food choices.

It wasn’t your fault the man had impeccable taste.

It was infuriating.

“Das klingt perfekt. (That sounds perfect)” You murmured.

The older man’s smile widened and you swore his eyes glowed.

“Bitte, nach dir (please, after you.)” he said, and gestured for you to go first.

You slid on your wool slippers and took your room key as you both left to walk down the hall. It was almost surreal how quiet it was.

Christoph’s room was tidy, as always, and you clenched your jaw as the smell of him invaded your senses tenfold. You toed off your slippers and watched as the older man walked to the table that did indeed have a tray of food on it. The sight alone had you almost moan.

“Please, have anything you like.” He said, turning to you with a plate for you.

“Danke schön…” You murmured softly, and took the plate. It didn’t escape you how your fingers brushed against his.

It did not escape him either.

But neither of you said a word. Christoph smiled politely and took a piece of warm bread with him as he located the remote.

You couldn’t help but sigh happily as you ate away.

Once your stomach stopped speaking to you, you put your fork down and looked back to Christoph, who had sat in a seated position against the headboard of the bed, glasses perched on his nose and a book in hand.

How could he be so effortlessly handsome?

You noticed that he still wore his hearing aids, and idly wondered if he was-

“It is considered rude to stare, mein Schatz (my dear).”

You jumped, and looked away quickly, not having noticed that you were gazing at the man a little longer than you had meant to.

“I was just wondering…if you’re still wearing your aids because I’m here you don’t have to. You know that.” You said, coming to sit on the other side of the bed to speak to him.

“Not at all. I intend to enjoy this film with you, and I do rather like the sound production for it.” He said, putting his book down, “But if we were not about to watch a film, and you were here, I would still wear them. You know I like to hear you.”

His words, while innocent in nature, had a certain successive connotation to them that made your ears hot again.

“Come, get comfortable. You must be tired.” Christoph held his arm out and pat his shoulder. You gave in and crawled over to him, resting against his warm chest.

“I hope you like Wes Anderson.” He murmured, pressing play.

“I do. Very much…his attention to detail is beautiful…” You mused, trying not to be obvious about drowning in his scent.

“Good.” He chirped, “Do you know this one?”

You watched the screen for a moment, and smiled. “The Grand Budapest Hotel is a classic. It’s a favourite actually!”

“I had the pleasure of sharing an interview with Ralph Fiennes once. Very humble man…” Christoph said softly, watching the screen.

I know. You wanted to say, having watched the interview and smiled to yourself over how sweet they were to each other.

The two of you settled against each other comfortably, and you even placed your hand under your cheek. Christoph had his arm draped around you, and kissed your temple gently; occasionally running his hand through your hair.

As the film progressed you found yourself loosing yourself in the man below your cheek. You had admired him for so long, and knowing him in person did not take any of that away; in fact it only added to your adoration. He was unbelievably polite, he made you laugh, and most importantly he made you feel safe. You had spent the better part of the last six months completely falling in love with the older man, and as your time with him drew closer to its end, you found your own words ringing in your ears. “…This is the most surreal experience of my life and if I let it go by the wayside I’ll regret it until I die.”

You sucked in a long breath and waited for a lull in the film.

“I like you Christoph.” You whispered into his chest. You swore time stood still after your admission, but then after a moment, Christoph hummed, and rubbed your arm absentmindedly, but only served to set your skin on fire.

“Oh? I thought you were intimated by me.” The older man teased, much to your surprise. Your stomach did flips.

You sighed out a laugh, and pulled away just enough to look at him properly, “I am…but I…I still like you a great deal.”

There was a moment of quiet as he absorbed your words.

“Is that your last secret?” He asked, eyes twinkling mischievously, brushing a little hair from your face.

“N-no.” You murmured, flicking your eyes away for a moment before looking back at him and accidentally flicking your eyes to his lips for half a second before returning to those green eyes of his.

“Tell me.” Christoph whispered, his breath warm against your lips.

You knew he wouldn’t move unless you did. He was too much of a gentleman.

“I-“ You tried to find a smart retort, or even a silly one, but nothing came.

You sucked in a slow breath, and before you could back out, you brushed your lips again those of the older man holding you. That feeling alone was enough to keep your warm on a winter night. Then as you went to pull away, already blushing, you felt the hand that was on your waist move to the back of your head and pull you back.

His lips were impossibly soft, and warm; you felt your head spin as he kissed you so gently. But then when a small mewl escaped you, he slipped his tongue against yours, and just like that, you were gone.

Christoph placed one more kiss to your lips before pulling away, to look at you.

“I think we should discuss that secret in explicit detail, little one. Yes?” He said, pulling your body closer and smoothing his thumb over your bottom lip.

Your mind went blank, so you said the only thing you could think of.

“Yes, Christoph.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@dogmatic255 @funandfancyfree

#christoph waltz #Christoph waltz x reader #actor x reader #fem!reader #Christoph waltz x fem!reader #hans landa #colonel hans landa #dr king schultz #django unchained #inglorious basterds #quentin tarantino

[arbuz-ik]

Hmmm, first post. English is not my first language, but I want to expand my audience, so I'm using a translator. If there are any mistakes, please post or something.

Haven't been here in a while, so I thought I'd start fresh. My pronouns and stuff are in my profile.

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

I plan to write small fanfics here, or just something very small. I'm a member of most fandoms, but I'm only going to describe here the ones where I'll be able to write something about the characters. I write both NSFW and SFW. Some ideas will be taken from TikTok. I mostly write romance, but I can also write something like horror or drama. The list may grow. Requests are taken at most for something small and from the list. I only write on characters from the list below. Fanfics with a reader I write mostly in second person, but can also use third person, but only without Y/N hate that thing, lol.

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

List.

1. Harry Potter

Nymphadora Tonks x fem!reader

Narcissa Malfoy x fem!reader

Hermione Granger x fem!reader

2. Marvel(films and TV shows)

Kate Bishop x fem!reader

Jack Duquesne x fem!reader

Sylvie Laufeydottir x fem!reader

Miss Minutes x any!reader(why not?)

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Yelena Belova x fem!reader.

3. Sonic(film, 2020)

Dr Robotnik x fem!reader(from the first or second part)

3. Good Omens

Beelzebub x fem!reader(I adore them too much, couldn't help but insert Beelzebub here)

4. Ratchet & Clank(games and film)

Dr Nefarious x fem!reader

5. Resident Evil

Albert Wesker x fem!reader

6. Game of Thrones

Osha x fem!reader

(Possibly, but I haven't finished the tv show or read the books yet.)

7. Inglourious Basterds

Hans Landa x Shoshanna

Hans Landa x fem!reader

8. Red Dead Redemption 2, Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Revolver

Sadie Adler x fem!reader

Josiah Trelawny x fem!reader

Strange Man (something creepy, possible fem reader)

Jack Swift x fem!reader

#sylvie laufeydottir #nymphadora tonks #natalia tena #rdr2 #marvel mcu #loki series #harry potter #fanfic #hans landa #albert wesker #dr robotnik #good omens #good omens beelzebub #kate bishop #agatha harkness #osha #game of thrones

[keravnous]

oh y'know, just spending the summer with cristoph.

feat.: Lana del Rey, Charles Aznavour, The Weeknd, Prince, Fleetwood Mac, MARINA, Rihanna, Zella Day, Harry Styles, Melanie Martinez, Etta James ...

listen here

#christoph waltz #christoph waltz x reader #playlist #my playlist #hans landa #hans landa x reader #dr king schultz #king schultz #dr king schultz x reader #king schultz x reader

[0bticeo]

me: *lost in youtube shorts, stumbling upon an inglorious basterds edit*

me: *simultaneously opening ao3 and tumblr bc it's the hyperfixation of the week*

me: *finds criminally little reader inserts*

me: *starts sweating bullets as the hans landa smut drabble evolves in a full fledged fic idea requiring in depth research about the french résistance, fashion under nazi occupation and a movie rewatch* welp. it'll be done in 2-3 business weeks. glad my being french can be of service.

#obticeo speaks #inglorious basterds #hans landa #hans landa x reader

[imaginesbymk]

NON REQUESTED

“WAIT—” your mouth was opened a bit to let out a word, but you held yourself back, watching the Colonel wash down a glass of milk, without his knowledge that the milk was most likely two weeks old. Possibly more.

Hans stared at you, looking through you with the glass still brought up to his lips.

What could be your potential reaction? Do the right thing and tell the Colonel he just drank a glass of expired milk, laugh at the fact that he did such and not tell him what was so funny, initiating a death wish, or stare back in a long wave of uncomfortable silence?

“Is something wrong?” he asks, setting the now empty glass down on the table.

Too late. You didn’t choose any of the options. You just smiled politely and shook your head. “No. Not at all. Disregard, Colonel.”

#hans landa gif imagine #hans landa imagine #hans landa x reader #hans landa #inglourious basterds gif imagine #inglourious basterds imagine #inglourious basterds x reader #inglourious basterds #gif imagine #imagine #reader insert #mk's faves

[cozywriting]

Love, from Nantucket

An upcoming Inglourious Basterds fanfiction.

All characters and world setting elements belong to Quentin Tarantino and are credited as such. 

I do not own anything else unless stated otherwise.

Genre: Romance/Drama

Pairing: Hans Landa x oc

A Hans Landa character study.

It is post-World War II, and the Nazi regime has fallen. Officiated war veteran and former SS, Hans Landa is living quieter as a local detective on Nantucket Island. Life suddenly turns when Hans intertwines with a familiar face and must understand that you can never fully run from your past.

“Wouldn’t you rather know if there are any Jews hiding under our feet?”

“No, because it’s you I wish to know about.”

He dreamt of her again. 

Waves crashed at her feet, splashing the hem of her dress. Her eyes were ponds of blue, the coolness radiating the emerald glow in his. The sand was warm and soft. The rhythm of her laughter echoed across the beach. He moved closer, hoping to feel her this time. These were his favorite moments in his new life. She existed this way only in his dreams, and it was the only place he allowed himself to be vulnerable. 

It was always her, after all.

Every step he took, her figure began to fade. Slowly, then all together she vanished into the breeze. 

He was alone, once again.

Hans awoke with a gasp, covered in sweat. His ears perked at the clashing of high-tide waves outside his window. He quickly wiped a hand over his moist face, looking up at the ticking clock. 

4:17 a.m. 

He paid very little attention to another blonde stirring from under the covers next to him. 

“Hans? What’re you doin’…” She mumbled, clearly dazed from her sleep cycle.

Hans annoyingly stared down at her dozing form momentarily before sliding away the covers. Walking towards his closet, he slipped on some slacks and a buttoned-down shirt. 

He decided he would kick her out later. 

Hans walked down the stairs of his two-bedroom townhome and turned to open the guest bathroom. Since his days as an SS officer, people have proudly regarded him as a war hero. He swam in popularity and praise amongst the community. Still, he lived a quieter life on the island and was offered a work position for Nantucket’s local detective agency. 

He blamed his pride and squished the ounce of thought that knew it was the only way to hold onto the shell of his former life. 

The light flickered on with a switch, and he eyed his pale reflection before splashing cool water over his face. He was practically unrecognizable. Long gone were the years of his clean-shaven face. He now sported a dark beard but kept it well-trimmed. His sandy brown hair was styled a bit longer these days, and the tips of his bangs did the job on covering his most warranted scar. 

It was the talk of the town once he first arrived, his head wrapped up in layers of gauze. Somehow the local rumor mill created a distorted tale that it was a group of Nazi men to blame for viciously branding him. Though, this proved to be quite effective in garnering sympathy amongst the women he routinely bedded.

Hans always loved rumors. 

#inglourious basterds #inglourious basterds fanfiction #quentin tarantino #christoph waltz #hans landa #hans landa fanfiction #christoph waltz x reader #hans landa x oc #fanfiction #wip #romance #this is a multi-chaptered wip but i'm posting this snippet here to see if it will gain any reach and potentially peak interest!! #cozy writes #lfn

[one-boring-person]

Hello! ^^ I was wondering if you still happen to write Hans Landa x reader fics if requested? Man my crush on characters come super late and I loved your past ones... Totally ok if you don't wish to write them anymore though! Have a happy new year!! :D Thanks!

I'm sorry I took so long to respond😬 unfortunately I don't write for him at the moment, and I don't see myself doing it for some time 😕 thank you for read8ng my stuff, though! I'm really glad you like it!☺️

#break writes

[headoverhiddles]

Meister - Hans Landa x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You wait to give Landa a sexy little surprise when he comes home, but realize he’s not alone. 

Notes: requested by anon! Not as plot heavy as my other Landa ones, and much shorter, but certainly as smutty! xx Enjoy a tiny taste of our Austrian daddy, it’s been a while.  

Herr Colonel Landa's home is a large one. He has money, and he's not one to shy away from displaying it. He’s not overly cocky about it-- he just takes pleasure in the fact that he’s living comfortably, and by proxy, so are you. 

Today, you've spent the day straightening up the place, telling your maids they've got the day off. You want to welcome the master of the house home properly... as his little French maid waiting for him. 

You had met Hans about a year ago at a party in Paris, where you're from, and it had been an instant attraction. You had been a dancing girl, and dancing girls did not typically start relationships with patrons of the bar, but Hans had been irresistible. He's so powerful, yet quietly so. So spontaneous, yet so well spoken. The man is a walking contradiction, and you find the mystery deadly attractive.

You wait in your sexy maid outfit on the stairs as the front door opens. You can’t wait to see his reaction-- you’re determined to remind Hans just how much he means to you.

"Hermann lernte ziemlich schnell, dass zweite Chancen nicht in meiner Natur liegen--" (Hermann learned quite quickly that second chances are not in my nature, when--) Hans stops as he sees you on the steps, and your eyes widen as you notice there are other men with him. His eyes widen as well, and you try to cover up as the two uniformed men accompanying him chuckle.

"Ah Landa. Es sieht so aus, als warte deine Dame im Warten." (Ah Landa. It appears your lady in waiting is waiting.)

"Sieht aus, als hätte das Mädchen ein Geschenk für Sie." (Looks like the maid has a gift for you.) The two officers continue to snicker, and you're mortified.

"That would be my wife," Landa says slowly, and the other two men stall their laughter, fear dawning on their faces. Landa just smirks your way. "How beautiful you look, my dear. As it so happens-- I am not the only one who thinks so."

The two other men chuckle again, nervously this time. But Landa just keeps smiling your way. With that same unnerving smile on his face, he straightens his uniform coat. "Gentlemen, would you excuse me for a moment? Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be with you shortly."

You back away up the stairs as Hans' dark eyes roam your body. You've got tiny lace panties on, and a white and black frilly apron that just barely covers your breasts.

"Hans--" you try to assure him, but he's not having it. He takes your wrist as if to lead you upstairs, but ultimately decides against it. He can't wait that long. 

Grabbing you by the thighs, he pushes you up against the banister, and parts your legs, moving down between them. After he has them open enough and unhooks your garter belt, you feel his tongue probe your panties, and you sling a leg over his shoulder. He quiets your moans with a pinch to your ass, and mouths along your swollen bud until you're practically crying.

"Hush, Fraulein," he snaps up at you, "Any of them could come out and see me defiling you on the stairs, and we don’t want that. Hermann and Stefan have seen enough of you for one day."

"Yes sir, herr colonel," you breathe, head tilting back in ecstasy. He inserts a finger into you, and you cry out as he curves it. He continues to assault your G-spot with his fingers and your clit with his tongue, until you let out a moan, coming against his face.

He raises his eyebrows. "Très rapidement, ma cherie." (Very quickly.)

"Je suis faible pour ce que tu me fais, Hans." (I'm weak for what you do to me, Hans.) you growl, "Tu sais ça." (You know this.)

You drop to your knees, urging him down as well, and he lays on the stairs as you move down to undo his pants. You take him out, licking your lips at the sight of his erection. He groans, so you lower your mouth down over him, getting him even harder. You straddle him, lowering down onto his cock, and he grabs your hips, mumbling German curse words as you ride him like that on the stairs.

"You're right," you whisper, "They could come out at any time daddy, see me riding you, see you fucking me hard..." You moan, pressing your hand to his chest for leverage. "Fuck me hard, Hans."

He moans your name, and pushes his hips up, once, twice more as he gasps. "Are you close, my sweet? Mm? My sweet little whore?"

"Yes," you moan, "Bitte... Bitte Hans, ah..."

“Look at this costume... you knew exactly what it would do to me.”

“Yes!”

You bite your lip as you grind down once more and come hard at the same time as he does. He shakes his head, astonished. 

“I suppose there will be no explanation, will there?” You crawl up between his legs, and giggle. 

"Juste accueillir mon maître à la maison." (Just welcoming my master home.)

#hans landa #christoph waltz #christoph waltz x reader #christoph waltz smut #reader x christoph waltz #christoph waltz fanfiction #hans landa x reader #hans landa smut #smutstoph #inglorious basterds #inglourious basterds #inglorious basterds smut #tarantino #quentin tarantino #fanfiction #inglorious basterds fanfiction

[asphodelsandpomegranates]

Reunited at Long Last (Hans Landa x Reader)

You'd been working for the French Resistance for four years. Now, you'd all heard about a group called the 'Inglourious Basterds' that were infiltrating a French cinema. The cinema was hosting a film night for an event called Nation's Pride. So, you and a few fellow members of the Resistance had decided to 'enter' the cinema with the Basterds to get inside and help.

So, here you were on a beautiful night of 'Nation's Pride' and were surrounded by Nazi soldiers. Angelique, the leader of the French Resistance, stood beside you with Aldo Raine and two of his men who were acting as Italian film makers.

Angelique looked to you and you sauntered through the crowd as though you were getting drinks even though it was to keep an ear to the ground about the news of the Fuhrer coming into the theatre. You spotted the infamous German war hero, Frederick Zoller, standing with Hermann and a few other people. You reached a waitress and took two glasses of champagne and proceeded to where Angelique and the others were.

You glanced up at the balconies. You recognised some of the colonels and generals by reputation and having crossed their paths when you were on duty. Your eyes, however, suddenly met someone else who was looking down on the scene before him with curiosity.

Your eyes widened. “No.” you breathed.

It couldn't be.

Was it?

Looking at him, you knew then who he was. He looked older now than what he did years and years ago, but the shape of his jawline, his eyes and the crooked smile on his lips was something you had not forgotten.

“Look this way.” you said under your breath. “Please, look this way.”

The man looked over to your side of the room but not directly at you, more like at something else.

It is. It was.

It was him!

Slamming the glasses down onto a table, you turned and hurried up the stairs to the balcony. You moved a little way along the balcony and kept your gaze on the colonel. He took a sip of his champagne and glanced over at you.

You could feel your heart beating fast in your chest and your whole body shaking as he stared at you. It seemed as though at that moment or for those long several minutes, that you two were only ones in that room.

Walk over here. Move towards me, you thought. Move you, bastard!

Hans Landa stared at you a little while longer before breaking his gaze and striding off from the balcony.

Oh, no, he wasn't getting away that easily. You strode forwards, following the infamous Jew Hunter. You looked down to see Angelique staring at you, bewildered. You signalled to her that there had been a change of plans and you were now going solo, before disappearing down a corridor of the cinema.

Keeping your gaze focused on Landa and your distance, you followed him as he entered a random office and closed the door. You quickened your pace and stopped in front of the door when you reached it.

You were hesitating and your heart was beating rapidly. You were going to do this. Come on, you had to do this. It was now or never. At a time like this, you had to see if it was him or else one of you or both of you would be dead before the war was over.

Gripping hard on the door handle, you opened the door and stepped inside.

“Ah, finally made it, yes? I wondered how long it would take you to show up. After all these years.”

Hans was leaning against a desk, still holding his glass of champagne. You closed the door behind you, keeping your gaze on him.

“So it is you.” you whispered.

“It's me, darling.” Hans smiled. “It may have been a while, but its me.”

“Too long, Hans. This is what you've been doing since we last saw each other.”

“I can say the same about you, mein liebechen. You, become part of the Resistance and I, a detective.”

“More like the Jew Hunter.” you said, taking a few steps forward.

“I didn't give myself that name, just for clearance.” he said, with a smile.

“Is this why you disappeared? Because you decided to work for Hitler?”

“No, my darling. I had left because I needed to find a way to keep you safe. And when I heard you'd gone to France, I had to see if you were safe.”

“I thought you had abandoned me. I thought you were dead.” you spat.

Tears were welling up in your eyes at this point. The man you'd loved – still loved – was alive and treating this whole situation like it was all fun and games.

“I often thought the same about you, liebe. But when I heard the rumour of you being in this quaint, little French town, I had to see if it was true. That's the thing about rumours, my dear (Y/N), there's always the chance of truth or falsehood in them. But I had no idea that you were here as a member of the Resistance.”

“Four years, now. Who knew that it would lead me to you?”

“Isn't fate a fickle thing, darling?”

“That's fame, but you're right, it is fickle.”

The two of you fell into silence – a comfortable one at that – where the two of you just stared at one another. The tears were now falling from your eyes. Hans moved forward. When he got close to you, he brushed them away. Your skin tingled at his touch; it had been far too long since you felt his fingers your skin. You moved closer to the Jew Hunter and leaned into him. Your hands clutching at his uniform. You didn't want to let go. You didn't care which sides you were both on, you just couldn't let go of the man who you thought to have left you behind. His arms came around you, pulling you close to him. A tender hand brushed against your locks and a kiss was planted there.

Small sobs escaped your lips, your hands moved up to his shoulders so that you could wrap your arms around them. You both stayed like that for a while. A long while. There was no cinema. No plot to stop Hitler. No 'Nation's Pride', no nazi soldiers, no Resistance, no war. Only you two.

It just felt like it had been all them years ago. Both of you standing in a meadow, standing on top of a cliff, looking out at the beautiful scenery below. Lying in Hans' bed after hours of intimacy with each other. Him promising you that you would marry him one day.

Why couldn't it be like it was all them years ago?

“Do you still have it, liebechen? Hans asked, pulling back a little to wipe away even tears.

You reached into the neckline of your dress and pulled out a golden chain with an emerald cut diamond nestled on the gold band. Hans smiled.

“Good girl.”

“It's the only thing I have to remind me of you.” you left the ring out for him to see. “Will you becoming home? After this is all done?”

Hans stared at you and you wondered if asking those questions was a big mistake. Finally, he answered.

“I haven't really thought about it. To be honest, I was thinking about just going to America and starting a new life there.” A smile came up onto his face. “But now that I found you. I suppose it will all change now. You can come with me.”

You sniffled and cleared your throat. “Hans, you are such a dummkopf.”

“True, true. But I am your dummkopf.”

You laughed at his words, placing a hand on his cheek. You leaned in and kissed him. He moaned into the kiss and pulled you close so that you were pressed against him.

All the memories came flooding back to you at that moment. Those memories of you being together before this god forsake war, you'd held onto for so long. Your life with Hans, the life you wanted back had been the only thing that you lived for, that kept you alive.

You whimpered as Hans pulled away. His hands rested on your cheeks.

“Ich liebe dich, mein katzchen.”

“I love you, too.” you sobbed.

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