#Christoph Waltz 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

[mlmxreader]

Family | King Schultz x m!reader

@margheeeeritii asked: hello it's me again, i hope your'e having a nice day :)

i wnated to request an M!readerxKing Schultz whit the prompt "You didn't tell them we're married?" were Django comes to visit his old friend only to find out he's married now and settled down.

thank you very much!

summary: a visit from Django and Broomhilde gets Schultz both excited and anxious.

tws: swearing, smoking

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Django and Broomhilde were in town for a week, which was fine and dandy by all accounts, and although you were excited to meet them, to meet your son-in-law and his wife, you could see that King was more than nervous about it; pottering around the house to make sure that everything looked perfect for them, tearing his hair out to make family dishes just the way his Mutter and his Vater used to.

He wanted it to be special, and although he was in agony doing it, you could tell that the only way be would calm down would be when Django and Broomhilde walked through the door.

You had heard many stories about Django, of course, of what he and King did during their time together as bounty hunters, and you couldn't deny that you were absolutely looking forward to meeting the man, the myth, the very legend himself; even if your husband was in agony over it, wanting everything to be perfect, wanting everything to be just right.

When you heard the sound of horses approaching, you looked out the window, and smiled when you saw two people; it couldn't be anyone else, as nobody ever came too close to the house for fear that the big guard dog, an old greyhound called Moritz, would tear them limb from limb. Even the postman would abandon letters and parcels at the very edge of the property.

But as the two riders came closer, Moritz didn't stir. Still sound asleep in his basket beside your desk. It wasn't until the riders had dismounted, left their horses with Fritz, and knocked on the door that the big dog dared to open an eye; he huffed, and raised his head, following after you when you went to answer.

"Uhm, pardon me," the man took his hat off, and looked at you with raised brows. "But you ain't seen King Schultz, have you?"

"Yeah, he's in the kitchen," you nodded. "You're Django, right?"

"Right," he smiled, clearing his throat and gesturing to the lady beside him. "This is Broomhilde."

"Hilde," she corrected, shaking your hand. "And you are?"

"(y/n)," you smiled at them, gesturing for them to come inside. "(y/n) Schultz... and that supposed guard dog is Moritz."

"Moritz," Broomhilde smiled, dropping to her knees so that she could pet the dog as he wagged his tail.

Django looked around, noticing the various little trinkets and keepsakes that littered the house, but when he noticed a particular photograph, he paused, and gestured for you to come over. "That's you and King, ain't it?"

"Yeah," you shrugged. "We took that when we were visiting Vienna together."

"Huh," Django nodded. "What was it like?"

"Oh, absolutely lovely," you grinned, fond rememberance in your eyes. "We went to this little saloon not far from where we were staying, and the whisky was dirt cheap... but the food was even better, if I'm honest."

Django hummed, not thinking very much of it. "Where's he now?"

"In the kitchen," you told him, patting his arm gently. "Make yourselves comfortable, I'll go get him."

You left Broomhilde and Django to look around, to get comfortable, heading to the kitchen; Schultz was smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the counter, a pot on the stove as he sighed.

"Everything alright, Hase?"

Schultz nodded, scratching his beard as he grumbled ever so softly. "This is taking far longer than it should, mein Mann."

You smiled, shaking your head as you came to stand beside him, your arm going around his waist. "Django and Hilde are here... Moritz didn't even fucking stir until I opened the door."

"Of course he didn't," Schultz laughed softly. "He's a guard dog, he won't protect us from family."

You dared to chuckle, but then you frowned a little as you thought about how Django had not even recognised your name. "King, by any chance, did you forget something?"

He fell silent, thinking about it for a moment. "Actually, I did."

"What did you forget?"

"I forgot to mention that I had a loving husband," he admitted, like he was ashamed at his own momentary forgetfulness. "Didn't I?"

"You didn't tell them we're married? What next, you'll forget our anniversary?" You joked softly, making him laugh as he tried not to grumble at you. "It's fine, I'm sure they'll figure it out - they're smart."

He was relieved, to say the least, that you weren't angry at him for forgetting to mention that he had settled down and had a stunning husband who he hoped to spend the rest of his days with; but he did still feel quite guilty about it.

"If it helps, we've got your favourite for dinner."

"Yeah?" You asked with a soft hum. "Is it your Vater's recipe, or mine?"

"It's a mix of both," he admitted. "Aber... it'll be gut, trust me."

"I dunno about trusting you," you teased. "You did forget to tell Django and Hilde that you have a husband."

"Es tut mir leid," Schultz sighed. "Vergib mir... bitte, mein geliebter?"

You kissed his cheek, gently padding his chest as you pulled away and nodded. "I'll forgive you, Doctor."

He was still nervous, especially when he brought out dinner as everyone sat at the table, and still felt guilty for forgetting his marital status, but once everyone was eating, Schultz finally started to relax; a mix of small talk and roaring laughter started to fill the house, scatterings of in depth intellectual conversation and retellings of the good old days. It felt more like home than it had ever done before.

A family, sitting at the dinner table and eating together - laughing, swapping stories, having real conversations together. It felt more like home with Django and Broomhilde there with you.

"So, come on," Broomhilde set her fork down, a mostly empty plate resting between her elbows on the table as she looked at you with slightly raised brows. "When did you and the Doctor marry?"

"Ooh, uh..." you rubbed the back of your neck as you tried to think about it. "Our ketubah was signed nearly... two, three years ago."

"Three years," Schultz started, "two months, one week and fourteen hours."

You stared at him for a second, a grin coming to your lips as you dared to reach for his hand. "You kept time?"

"I kept time," he agreed.

"That's really sweet," Django nodded. "Y'know... Hilde and I were talking while you was in the kitchen."

"Yeah?" You hummed.

"D'ya think, maybe, we could stay here, with you, while we're in town?" He asked.

There was a moment of silence, but the Schultz looked at you, and then he looked back at Django as a grin came to his lips. "Natürlich, mein Sohn!"

A family, under the same roof.

#mlem writes #king schultz imagine #king schultz x reader #dr king schultz #django unchained #django #quentin tarantino #christoph waltz #Christoph Waltz x reader #Christoph Waltz imagine

[purplelupins]

Rapture

Part III

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, smut, praise kink…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.

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The paused film bathed the room in a soft pink glow, reminiscent of the Wes Anderson film that was long forgotten on the screen.

When you had said his name, Christoph’s eyes fell closed for a moment as the sound suck into his mind. A soft sigh from his nose blew across your cheek as you stared up at the older man.

Your fingertips pulsed when his green eyes re-opened, and your own breath hitched. As you gazed at one another, it was suddenly very real that you were in the arms of the revered actor. Your heart began to beat even faster, and you couldn’t help the incredulous grin that began to spread across your face.

His eyes crinkled at the sides as he stared down at you, slowly easing you onto the soft mattress. Christoph braced himself above you on his arm, and you half expected him to kiss you again, but it never came. Instead, he simply looked at you- studying you.

Finally, the older man’s soft voice broke the comfortable quiet.

“Du bist… wunderschön, meine Schatz.(you are…very beautiful, my darling)” He murmured.It was said so thoughtfully that you almost wondered if he meant to say it in his head.

“You’re not bad on the eyes either.” You whispered with a small, cheeky grin.

Christoph breathed out a laugh.

“If only the world knew how cheeky you are…” He teased. When the public began to take notice of you since being a part of the Tarantino universe, you kept much of your true self to your small friendly circle. You had seen time and time again what happens when a celebrity (though you could barely call yourself that) let too much of their personal self out to the public, so you remained the shy but charming new actress with a name that most had to ask you for.

You knew Christoph was a private man, and you respected that greatly, and you did your best to follow his admirable example.

You sighed and reached up a hand to trace from his jaw to his chin. The older man held so still as you mapped out his handsome face.

“Christoph?” You finally asked.

He sighed contently at the sound of his name, and nodded, “Hmm?” He hummed.

You traced the a line by the side of his mouth, then his lips.

“Küss mich. (Kiss me)” Came your barely audible demand.

Christoph gently grasped the hand you had been tracing his face with, and kissed the inside of your wrist.

“If you insist.” He murmured. An image of his portrayal of Dr. King Schultz about to shoot Calvin Candie flashed through your head when he spoke those words, and you had to suppress a giggle.

You grinned, and let your eyes drift closed as his lips brushed against yours again. Then again. It was like he was teasing you, just barely touching you. A frustrated sigh came from you and you slipped a hand to the soft grey hair at the back of his head and pulled him closer. You could feel the smirk on his lips, but he gave in and eased himself into your embrace; his kisses were slow, and meticulous as if he made each one count.

Christoph ran his knuckles along your cheek, and slipped them into your hair, and brought you closer. When you felt his possessive touch, you were certain your heart would give out as his smell enveloped you. A soft moan escaped your mouth as his free hand moved down to your waist, and pulled you against him. You barely kept in the mewl on your tongue when Christoph’s thigh slipped between yours, and you rocked against it as subtly as you could.

It seemed that your reaction only pleased the older man more; he eased his tongue between your waiting lips and smoothed it against yours. This time, you could not hide the moan that came from you. Your grip in his hair tightened, which only made his own grip constrict as well.

Christoph pulled away slowly, and brushed his nose against yours. “Does my pretty girl have something to say?” His soft breath fanned across your face. Your brain was fuzzy and you could partly form a sentence to save your life, so you went to lean up and kiss him again in hopes that he would understand, but Christoph was having none of that.

He shook his head and placed a finger on your lips.

“Ah, ah,” he tsked, “Use your words Fräulein.” Christoph threaded his deft fingers through your hair, and you swore that every stress in your body disappeared.

You sucked in a long, deep breath.

“Can I be honest with you, Christoph?” You whispered, somehow finding a brain cell to speak.

“I would not have you speak any other way. Please continue.” The older man murmured.

“I’ve…” you sighed, nerves starting to creep back in, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time…but I’ve been enamoured by you for longer…I guess what I’m trying to say is that if we wake up in the same bed in the morning, I want you to know that this is not something I do lightly…” you looked up at him to see if he followed your awkward confession.

Christoph was gazing at you intently, absorbing each word.

“Please correct me if I am wrong, meine Schatz, but I think you are very sweetly trying to tell me that you are not looking to be tossed aside like a…rag doll after a bit of fun…” the older man said, still stoking your hair, “Am I close?”

Your blush was evident, “Yes…” you said, thankful that he understood.

Christoph nodded, and his lips curled a little, “Well then I suppose it is a very good thing that I do not ‘toss’…Nor do I take anything lightly…” he whispered and tilted his head to the side to study you. “If we are being completely truthful with one another, I will then confess that when I recommended you for the part of Lena…there was a small selfish reason attached to it.” He said a little sheepishly.

“Oh?” You rose a brow.

Christoph nodded and blinked as he thought about his next words.

“Let me paint you a picture, my dear,” he said, thinking, “A man goes to work- the same job he has done for decades- and puts in the time to be successful, but this time he is in a foreign country. One of his co-workers cannot seem to wrap her head around the environment of the work this man knew well, nor did she grasp his work ethic…but there is another young lady, who is very pretty who does understand. Better yet, she speaks to him in his beloved mother-tongue. However, she is not directly in his department. But, when the position of the other young woman is free to be filled, who do you think this man would recommend to fill the vacancy? Someone new who he will meet for the first time and have little history with, or someone he has been admiring previously, and who makes him feel at home and appreciated?” He finished, waiting patiently for you to process his words.

He had been watching you.

He appreciated you.

He wanted you.

Your head felt light when you tired to speak, “You…?”

Christoph nodded, flicking his eyes down then back up to yours.

“I may be a snob but I have eyes.” He teased, running a finger down your face. “I like you very much Fräulein…I will not hurt you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your head spin and your throat tight. It had been a long time since someone spoken to you like that.

“It doesn’t bother you that I’m younger than you?” You asked, frightened of his answer.

His brow furrowed, but not in anger- he was amused.

“My dear, I am Viennese, there is truly very little that will disturb me. We are very simple when it comes to such things…I like you very much…I think you like me as well. So long as we respect one another and do not cause any pain…it was not something so…taboo. Simple.” He shrugged; it wasn’t dismissive or aloof, it was simply to punctuate his point.

You had often wondered why relationships with age gaps were so shunned; if two people liked or loved each other, were consenting adults, and worked well with one another, then what was wrong with that? You had seen so many relationships between people closer in age fail, so there was really no argument.

A slow sigh escaped you as you stared up at him, “…okay.” You murmured, content.

“Okay?” He echoed, his brows rising a little at your simple statement.

You grinned softly and nodded, “Okay.”

Christoph lips spread into a handsome grin and he nodded as well, “Okay.”

You bit the inside of your lip as you stared at one another, daring the other to move first.

It seemed that the older man above you had far more patience than yourself, as he was completely content to gaze at you tenderly.

But you were not as patient.

You leaned up and brushed your lips over his again, and you could already feel the smirk on Christoph’s face at your eagerness. He hummed as you slipped your hand to the nape of his neck, and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

Your heart beat erratically, and couldn’t help it when your hips began to move against his solid thigh that still rested between your legs. As if hearing your silent desire, Christoph moved his hand from your waist to your hip and pulled you against him tightly; you gasped against his lips and he only chuckled.

Christoph slipped his hand across the exposed skin of your stomach, and under the waist band of your pants, but no further. The older man drew away from you, and you were once again under the spell that were his green eyes.

“Darf ich?(may i?)” He whispered.

Without a second thought, you nodded and shifted your hips for further confirmation. “Bitte.(please)” you breathed.

The older man’s eyes lit up as he eased his hand below the fabric, and slid over your panties to the heat radiating from your centre. A mewl escaped you, and you gazed up at him pleadingly. Without breaking eye contact, Christoph pulled your panties to the side, and playfully mocked the gasp you let out at the feeling of his deft finger toying with your clit.

You keened against him, helplessly gripping his shoulders. Christoph watched you closely, seeing what made you mewl and squeeze your eyes closed; then, much to your pleasure, he eased a finger inside you, and you completely lost control.

A long, pleased moan slipped from your throat, which Christoph peppered gentle kisses along.

“Does that feel good, meine Schatz?” He cooed in your ear as he fingered you slowly. You could barely form a coherent sound in your mind let alone from your mouth, so you nodded and rocked your hips.

The older man grinned and added a second finger, and curled them, stroking that spot inside you that made your skin burn and your heart sing. A cry escaped you.

Christoph took his time, coaxing the most pleasure as he could put of you; this was a man who knew what to rush and what not to rush…and from what you could tell, there wasn’t a lot to rush.

“Are you going to come for me, Fräulein?” Christoph purred, tilting his head to the side as he gazed at you.

You opened your mouth to answer as you threw your head back and arched your spine, but you felt the hand that had been in your hair move to your chin and draw your face to his. “Ah ah. Eyes on me.”

You nodded again with a moan caught in your throat.

Christoph hummed, and the smirk he wore was akin to the cat that got the cream. “Good.” He cooed, “ Now answer my question with your words, Fräulein.”

“Yes…” you whispered breathlessly.

“Yes…?”

“Yes Christoph.” You rushed out.

“Gut.(good)” He murmured with satisfaction. With that, he leaned back down and the feeling of his lips on yours once again muddled your head; it was soft and slow, just like his ministrations between your legs. You moaned and gasped into his mouth, and he drank it all in, caressing your lips with his tongue.

Christoph curled his fingers again, stroking that sensitive spot inside you lovingly. He took so much care to cater his attention to what made you sing for him until he literally had you on the edge.

“Das ist es, mein Schatz…loslassen. (That’s it, my dear…let go)” Came his voice in your ear.

How many times had you dreamed of him saying those words to you?

But you were not about to get wrapped up in your thoughts; and let go you did.

You gripped his shoulders tightly and rocked your hips against his deft hand as shockwaves of ecstasy coursed through you. Your jaw when slack in a silent cry and your mind went fuzzy. You kept your eyes on him regardless of the blush that coloured your cheeks, just as he had told you. A fiery shiver scorched your spine and weaved through your veins as you came undone around his fingers, drenching his hand, but Christoph only continued to finger you, albeit much more gently.

“There we go…well done my dear…” he murmured, slowly withdrawing his hand from your centre when your muscles began to relax. You could barely even process his words as you laid there in a daze, but then you felt his hand stroking your cheek, slowly bringing you back.

The older man stared at you so tenderly, like you were the only thing in the world. Your breathing slowly returned to normal, and you reached up to pull his lips to yours. After a moment, you release him just enough to whisper, “Christoph, please.”

He pulled back enough to look you in the eye, and when he saw that pleading look there a small grin spread across his face. “You’re sure, meine Schatzi(my darling)?” Came his soft voice.

You nodded, “I am.” You heart beat uncontrollably in your ears.

He nodded as well, and flicked his eyes down to where his hand had just been, and looked back up to you, “May I?”

“Are you asking if you can undress me?” You managed with a small grin.

“I am.” He echoed your words with a glimmer in his eyes.

“You may.” You breathed out. Christoph placed another kiss to your lips, then one to your forehead. He leaned up from resting over you, and straddled your calves; his hands gripped your pants and stared into your eyes as he slowly eased them down your legs along with your underwear. You swore your breathing stopped as he placed them neatly on the bed beside your ankles.

Christoph’s eyes grew cheeky when he got off your legs and tugged you down the bed to lay flat. You gasped in surprise, not only at the action but also by his strength. Then, he took a place next to you, and let a sigh escape his nose as he admired you.

You leaned up onto your elbows, and sat up completely to be level with his green eyes; you couldn’t help the kiss you gave him- it was sweet and small. Christoph pecked another kiss to your lips, and stood; you missed his warmth next to you instantly, but upon seeing him standing, you crawled to the edge of the bed. He watched you intently as you took the edge of his shirt in your hands, and looked up at him for permission. It came in the form of a small but confident smile and a single nod.

You lifted the soft shirt slowly, and kissed the skin that was revealed. Christoph’s head fell back and he sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to grab your hair, push you down into the mattress and fuck you until you couldn’t stand.

But he wouldn’t.

This was you.

His y/n.

The spatter of hair on his torso tickled you as you let your tongue join your lips on their journey up. When you reached his chest, the fabric was taken from your grip as he finished the job, leaving you to freely touch him.

You knew Christoph was a man who took care of himself inside and out, and you knew he was much older than you, but you had to be honest with yourself when you admired just how well Christoph had maintained his physique. You hadn’t realized how long you were staring at him and feeling him, until you felt his hands cups your cheeks. Your eyes finally flicked up to his, and your cheeks burned as you both watched one another intently.

“I’m going to take care of you, meine Leibe (my love).” He murmured, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. Your ears burned, and you were certain your cheeks were glowing, but you didn’t care anymore; you nodded and grinned up at him.

If this was anyone else, you might doubt the sincerity of their words; especially words so tender. They sounded like something out of a Jane Austen novel, or a poem; no one really spoke like that anymore.

But this was not just anyone.

This was Christoph.

Your safe place.

“Lay back.” He whispered, still holding your cheeks. Christoph gazed down at you for another moment, then released you. You did as he said, and scooted back until your head hit a pillow. When you looked back at the older man, he was stepping out of his pants; a part of you was thankful that he kept his briefs on, but the other part of you was not so prudish and wished to know what you were dealing with.

He sat back onto the bed, and crawled over to you, straddling yours legs just as he had before. You couldn’t help your thought running a mile a minute at you looked up at him above you.

God he’s handsome…

Then, the more your mind ran, you hands started to shake as your anxiety started to rear its head.

It only took Christoph three seconds to notice.

He held his hands out for you to take, which you did. This was a common thing the two of you did when settling you down; you lost count of how many times he had taken you aside on set or sat with you in your or his trailer or in a small restaurant and just held your hands like that. Your chest felt tight, and you felt as if you might wake up and find that this had all been a dream or that you had been in a coma…but it never happened.

He cared for you, and with him continuing to care for your well-being even when you were sharing the same bed, your heart felt as if it was about to burst.

“We do not have to do anything.” Christoph said gently, rubbing your pulse points. But you shook your head.

“No, no…I want to. I just…” you trailed off, and looked away. It wasn’t that you hated how you looked, but the man above you was beyond just good-looking. It was almost unfair how handsome he was.

“You just…?” He prodded, refusing to move until you finished your thought.

Always a gentleman…

“I know you asked if I was sure about doing this with you…but…Are you sure you want to do this…with…me?” You asked. You almost wanted to take your words back when he stopped stroking your wrists and pulled back a little.

Was he having second thoughts? Oh god I just ruined everything-

“My dear girl have you seen yourself?” Came his reply, almost chiding but still soft as ever.

Your eyes finally snapped to his, and you waited for him to continue, which he did. Christoph let go of your wrists, and eased himself down your legs to rest where your calves were. As he sat, he took each of your ankles from under him, and rested them beside his hips so he was effectively between your legs. Had you not been focused on what he would say, you would have likely been far more flustered than you already were.

Christoph traced your ankle with this thumb as he gazed at you, and pondered his words like he often did, “I do like to think of myself as a reserved gentleman…but if I must resort to more blunt measures to demonstrate to you your beauty, then I will.”

You watched him for a moment, then nodded your consent to his proposal, not fully knowing what he meant.

“Gut.(good)” he said, “Now then, I will start by saying that you have the most charming nature…what was it was Tim called you?”

“Mouse.” You breathed out with a lighthearted laugh as you remembered when the man had first called you by the name.

Christoph nodded.

“Mouse, that’s right. It is quite a perfect fit for you, and I mean that in the best way,” Christoph said in that slow way he did when he truly was thinking of what to say, “ Your small smiles…and when your cheeks go all red it is mesmerizing. Even when you are nervous, your eyes are bright and when you find comfort the ease in your shoulders is so cute.” He grinned, shaking his head, “ I know you know that you have a good heart…so you cannot sit here and tell me that you do not look in the mirror and see just how beautiful your outside is, if you know that what you have inside is truly stunning too.”

You had no words, you only stared up at him and nibbled your lip as you tried to process his words.

He sighed and tilted his head to the side, “Do you know how many times that look you have right now almost made me trip over my words? And I do not say that lightly by the way- I do not trip easily.” He teased in that stoic way.

You shook your head, “I can’t say I do.” You breathed.

He continued, “Do you know how many times I considered myself revoltingly lucky that I was able to be your safe place?”

You shook your head again.

“And I suppose you do not know how long I have wanted to have you in this exact position, hm?”

At his admission, your breath caught. You weren’t expecting that at all. Once again, your ears burned, and a part of your brain - the part that made your hands shake- told you he was lying, but thankfully that part lost.

Christoph continued.

“How long I wanted you to say my name as I held you…? Touched you?” He purred.

You breathlessly shook your head again.

“You are so beautiful, meine Leibe(my love).” Christoph whispered with conviction.

You stayed quiet as you sat up, and held his jaw. For a moment, you just stared at one another. It was like you were both reaching a silent agreement or sending a telepathic message via eye contact.

And it seemed to work.

You kissed him slowly, your tongues seducing one another as your body-heat began to rise. You let a moan sneak out, and felt him smirk against your lips; Christoph eased you onto your back and slowly kissed his way to your cheek, down to your throat where he nipped and suckled. Then, you couldn’t help but mewl and weave your fingers into his hair as he lifted your shirt and kissed your chest, down the valley between your breasts.

With a surge of confidence, you gripped your shirt and brought it up over your head and rested it on the mattress next to you. When the air hit your skin, your nipples hardened, and you saw Christoph pause and pull away to admire what you let him see. A pulsing heat coursed through your veins when he breathed out a controlled sigh, and his eyes darkened; you swore you could see the vein in his neck pulsing.

Christoph leaned up to your lips and nipped at them gently before kissing down to you ear. “You’re sure?” He asked you one more time.

With his chest against yours, you could feel the hardness of his cock against your thigh, only hidden by his underwear. A blush crept across your cheeks when you took note of the size. In answer to his question, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, running your fingers through his silver hair. You almost hated how soft it was. “I am.” You said, swallowing. “And I’m on the pill.”

You were certain that the older man could hear your heart beating in your chest when he eased away from the side of your face and gazed down at you. His eyes were soft; inspecting your face for any trace of uncertainty or discomfort.

He found none, just like you knew he would.

You knew you wanted him.

Christoph slipped his hands into the waistband of the only fabric between you, and you locked your eyes with his, not daring to look away. He smirked ever so slightly and eased the underwear down his thighs. In your peripheral you saw his cock come free, and it took all of your will power to hold that intense stare between the two of you. Christoph’s eyes were alight as he sunk down to your lips once again.

His kiss was gentle- more of a caresses. It was as if he was reminding you that you were safe.

His hands held your thighs and pulled them up over his hips as he fit between them snugly, “I am going to take care of you, meine Schatz.” He whispered. You stared back at him, biting the inside of your lip as you nodded.

Christoph regarded you for another moment before slipping one hand between the two of you, and you felt the slick head of his cock part your slick lower lips. Then, with the same precision as he had been exercising all evening, he eased the first inch inside of you. You lips parted in a gasp at the feeling, and your hands gripped his shoulders as he suck deeper into you.

In the back of your mind you recalled a joke made towards him about being a ‘horse’and how he hadn’t denied it. Now with him almost splitting you open with a cock far larger than you had thought, you understood why. Ever the gentleman, Christoph paused every half inch to help you to adjust.

“Such a good girl…that’s it.” He cooed to you as his hips almost met yours.

Your cunt tensed around him at the praise, and you tried to hold back from moaning; it resulted in a gasp instead. His breath tickled your cheek as he chuckled, “Does my sweet girl have something to tell me, hmm?” He murmured, “Does my little one like it when I tell her how good she is?”

You whimpered and nodded, squeaking out a little “Yes!”, rocking your hips against him. Christoph grinned and pulled out until just the head was inside you, then pushed back in achingly slow. His cock dragged across that sensitive spot inside you that made your back arch and your core throb. This man would be your undoing- literally and figuratively.

His thrusts were measured, taking his time just as he had went he made you come on his fingers. Christoph pressed kisses to your neck and sucked at the skin gently; he stroked your outer thigh with his thumb as your pleasure mounted.

“I’ve wanted to have you like this for so long meine Schatz…” he breathed out, snapping his hips against yours harder with each thrust. You couldn’t help the moans that began to fall from your lips freely.

His confession echoed in your ears, making your skin heat up even more. You couldn’t help but imagine now that some of those secret glances he had cast you over the months of knowing one another did indeed mean more than a fleeting glance. You wondered if he had imagined taking you like this all those quiet evenings together, if he wished to move those innocent hands on you thigh further up until-

A harsh snap of his hips cut off your line of thought and you cried out at the sudden quickening of his pace. The sensitivity inside you grew more and more with each passing second until it felt as if your insides were scorched. Your legs began to shake and you could barely contain your hips as they met his.

“Chr-Christoph I’m-“ your words died on your tongue when you caught his eyes boring into yours.

He grinned evilly and almost growled, “Is my girl going to come? Be a good girl and come for me, yes? That’s it…So ein gutes Mädchen…(such a good girl)” His breath fanned across your cheeks, and you almost felt intoxicated, so you nodded and rocked yourself against him eagerly to please him; you wanted him to feel what he did to you, how he had inadvertently tortured you since you learned his name.

Christoph hummed und satisfaction when he felt that tightness form around him. “Ficken…das ist es (fuck, that’s it)”

Your nails dragged down his back and your legs locked over his hips as you came. A series of cries and mewls poured from your lips as you felt your thighs become slick with your own cum. Your breaths came in quick gasps as the older man fucked you through your orgasm, only slowing for you to finish. You knew his own was close as his thrusts became quicker and more calculated.

You decided to have a little fun of your own.

“Wirst du in mich kommen, alter Mann??(Are you going to come inside me, old man)” you murmured into his ear. At your words, his hips stuttered and he drew away from you to stare at you incredulously. Christoph searched your eyes for a moment, still rocking against you, then cracked a smile with a breathy laugh.

“You filthy girl…” he whispered. It seemed that your words did exactly what you wanted, as the next moment he pulled out of you, and flipped you onto your stomach then dragged you to the edge of the bed and sunk back inside you. A whiny moan tore from your throat as his pace became too quick to keep up with; your hands took purchase of the sheets and gripped them tightly. You buried your face in the plush mattress, trying to not wake the entire floor with your desperate moans.

Christoph pounded into you, his hands gripping your hips in an iron grip. You breathed and mewled, becoming more and more of a mess with each harsh thrust.

“Mein schönes Mädchen…(my beautiful girl)” Christoph breathed out. You felt yourself begin to tense up again as the heat inside you grew increasingly more and more unbearable. You barely had time to warn the older man of your climax as it shook through you, but then not moments later, Christoph pushed deep inside you until his hips were flush with yours, and you felt his cock pulse inside you. Your core became all warm as his cum flooded your walls, filling you up until it began to gush down your inner thighs.

Christoph slumped onto his hands on either side of your waist, and kissed down your spine. You both began to pant and sigh as your highs wore off; you realised how sore your legs were as you unclenched and relaxed.

“Are you alright, mein liebe?” He whispered as he pulled from you carefully.

All you could manage was a shaky, breathy “Yes.”

He pressed one more kiss to your shoulder, and stroked your head lovingly; You heard him leave the room, but then heard the water for the shower turn on. You gingerly turned around and laid on the bed with your eyes closed, but just as you went to get up on your own, you felt a hand brushing the hair from your face. Upon opening your eyes, you saw Christoph knelt before you gazing at you tenderly. Your poor heart pounded in your ears.

“Can you walk or shall I carry you?” Came his soft teasing voice. Your heart felt as if it might burst right there in your chest. Somehow you managed to sit up and swing your legs off the bed; Christoph took your hands and stood you up slowly. He wrapped one arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist as you both walked into the steam billowing from the beautiful shower.

The two of you stood under the warm water with Christoph’s arms wrapped around you firmly. You rested your head against his shoulder as he ran his hand up and down your back soothingly, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear. You were certain you would wake up any moment to be back in your own room, and find that this had been a dream. But the longer you were cradled in Christoph’s arms, the more you realized that you were don’t dreaming at all.

His fingers massaged your hair, and his hands gently washed away any sweat; you never in a million years would have thought that an older man would be caring for you so lovingly after bringing you the most pleasure you had felt in your life. Christoph kissed where his hands had gripped you tightly, up your throat and to your waiting lips.

Then, he dried you and wrapped you in a plush white robe before guiding you back to the bed. You both laid down- your leg over his thighs, and head on his chest; his arm around you and his other holding your hand that played with his chest hair.

“Now…where were we?” Christoph said with a little chuckle, which made you smile.

The film continued, and he occasionally made a comment; you noticed through your sleepy haze that his voice became lower when he was tired.

You slept in each other’s arms that night, not a care in the world that you had a flight to catch in the morning.

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

@dogmatic255 @funandfancyfree

#christoph waltz x reader #christoph waltz #quentin tarantino #actor x reader #praise #reader insert #django unchained #inglorious basterds #water for elephants

[filmscruise]

i'm working on a whole fanfiction of christoph, i'm inspired

#christoph waltz #christoph waltz x reader

[cozywriting]

Slow Hands //

Requested by Anonymous: could you do a King Schultz x reader where the reader is shy and stoic and gets injured and King Schultz comforts her and they admit feelings for each other.

Pairing: Dr. King Schultz x fem!reader

You winced in pain, eyes shut, biting your tongue as King gently worked the alcohol into your wound. King’s brows furrowed in focus.

“I apologize, my dear,” he said. “It’ll be over soon.” His tone was as soft as the feathered pillow and silken blankets you now longed for.

You daydreamed of sleep, away from the dangers of guns and outlaws. You relaxed at how hot King’s fingers were tracing alongside your chilled skin.

The bandage over your thigh tightened as King wrapped its layers.

“Does that feel okay?” He asked, his gaze finally adjusting upwards. His fingers trembled against your skin.

Your eyes averted back onto his, and you wondered if the back of his neck was just as warm as yours. Did his stomach do somersaults while yours fluttered? Or was it, perhaps nothing, but a cruel flicker of hope that somehow, he could return such affections?

King was a bounty hunter, you understood this. Invisible blood stained his hands. So how come the calloused ones pressed against you were anything but rough? How was it that passion blazed with each lingering touch? And why, did he stare at you every time with that beautiful sparkle in those hazel-hued eyes?

Finally, you nodded a response. Your tongue twisted to find some words of gratitude, but they did not come. You looked over at Fritz, who was sniffing at the grassy dirt, then up at the orange sky. The day would turn to dusk soon.

“Fraulein,” King said. He was examining the gauze on your leg.

A second hand grazed your left thigh and your heart jumped. You spotted King’s fingers as they caressed your smooth skin, he had not turned his attention away from your wound.

Heat arose within you once more, and you fixed your gaze on the valley of trees that surrounded. Internally, you sighed. How could you possibly signal that this was everything you wanted and more without scaring such a pleasant man away?

As soon as your eyes locked, King swiped his hand away. His quick movements sent a rush of ice down your thigh. You did not realize how much of his touch you longed for until it ceased to exist.

His eyes swelled with regret and your chest ached.

“I’m sorry…” He apologized. “I couldn’t resist.”

King stood up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He paced back and forth away from you and his flushed face was stricken with panic.

You sat, watching such a mess of a man. You did not dare to giggle as much as you wished to. You continued to stare at him in silence, hoping that he would overcome the silliness and help you to your feet.

A moment later, he did exactly that. As your fingers laced with his, you stopped him.

“Don’t let go,” you said, pulling his hand against your breastbone and the haste of your heart quickened.

King’s fingers twitched at the first thump. His chest mimicked deep breathes as his eyes moved up from your joined hands.

“Have you… always?” He asked.

You nodded in reassurance. Your stomach fluttered again, as King’s eyes softened.

“…And you?”

King tugged you closer, closing the space between you. His eyes roamed your face as his thumb grazed your cheek.

“I’ve always loved you,” he said.

King pressed his lips against your forehead. The whiskers of his mustache forced you to giggle. His finger hooked under your chin, tilting your head upwards.

The worry of the world was forgotten as your lips fervently met. Warmth fluttered inside you and King’s grip around your waist tightened. He held you as if that very moment would slip through his grasp forever, had he chosen to let go.

The two of you spoke through timid glances and heated kisses throughout the night. For now, this was enough. For King, you were enough.

And you finally let out a new giggle when the bristles of his beard nipped below your belly from underneath shared covers.

#django unchained #dr king schultz #king schultz x reader #christoph waltz x reader #christoph waltz #quentin tarantino #request #cozy writes #i loved writing this one #imagines

[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

[dolphinsapphire28]

Gimme your love feat. Christoph Waltz (Fan Video) by Kati McFly

Fan video made by Kati McFly (YouTube)

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpQi8uqxDeD9pm-nbkqx0wQ

Featured song: “Gimme Your Love” by Morcheeba (album: Head Up High)

Featured movie clips:

Water for Elephants

Jennerwein

Das merkwuerdige Verhalten geschlechtsreifer Großstaedter...

Das Geheimnis im Wald

The Zero Theorem

Der Tourist (Der Postkartenmoerder)

Dienstreise - Was für eine Nacht

Die Zuercher Verlobung

Das Juengste Gericht

Man(n) sucht Frau

Kati McFly, if you’re anywhere here on Tumblr, I salute and thank you for this wonderful gem!!! I lost count to how many times I replayed it.

#christoph waltz #christophwaltz #christoph waltz kiss #christoph waltz x reader #christoph waltz x oc #notmyvideo #fanvid

[yagirlsanauthor]

Regus Patoff Taking An Interest in You Would Include...

AN: Okay you guys. Everyone knows the drill by now. Once again I have yet to find any x reader content for our zaddy Regus Patoff (even though the show came out like a week ago...shut up). Plus, I saw a few posts complaining about the lack of content. So, I have decided to take it upon myself to see if I can write a little somethin' somethin' for all you mfs out there thirsting for this guy. Enjoy :))

P.S. This is soooo fucking long omg. I'm so sorry.

Word Count: 2,332

Pairing: Regus Patoff x GN!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for The Consultant!! Slight NSFW 18+ Below the Cut!!

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

~ You had worked at Compware for a little over 5 months before the untimely death of your boss, and were an intern and somewhat personal assistant for Sang-Woo.

~ When Sang was still alive, your main job was to deal with whatever he needed. Fetching him coffee, lunch, a document he's misplaced, help arrange meetings, and generally do any other necessary things for him and any of the more important guests that met with Mr. Sang. That's how you met him.

~ One day, you were putzing along, cleaning up and organizing a few files that your boss had needed for tomorrows meeting, when you had been called up to his office.

~ He didn't clarify if he needed anything, or what he needed from you, he just sounded tense and it sounded urgent, so you quickly made your way to his office.

~ As you came around to the main door of Sang's office, you could hear an unknown voice with a strange, what sounded to be, vague European accent, speaking with Sang.

~ And as you pushed open the last door, your are met with the sight of a very sharply dressed, and quite handsome, older gentleman.

~ The air seems to shift as you enter the room, and though you struggle to take your eyes off of this intriguing new man, you force your gaze settle back onto the man who called you here in the first place, Sang.

~ He quickly asks you to give the man across from him a brief tour as well as show him his way out. He looked pale and sweaty and sounded extremely shaky, almost like he just ran a marathon and was fighting to catch his breath. His eyes were also shifting all around the room, landing everywhere else except on him.

~ You quickly nodded your head and opened the office door, beckoning this stranger to follow you out.

~ Sang and his guest shook hands before he turned and followed suit.

~ During the tour, he wasn't very chatty. You provided a bit of information about the employees and what everyone did there, but he hardly seemed interested, in fact he didn't seem like he was listening at all. He asked a few simple questions about the building itself but nothing about what you actually did there, or what the company was even about.

~ As the tour came to an end, you eventually walked him out, and assumed you'd never really have to see him or speak with him again, as you never typically have had any reoccurring interactions with any of Sang's collaborators in the past.

~ But, as days pass, and Sang's unfortunate death pops up, your eyes land on a vaguely familiar face in the office.

~ This time, however, he actually introduced himself.

~ For some reason, it's like time had slowed and the world was now running at half speed.

~ He looks up at you as you approach him, and he cracks a growing smile. He stretches out his hand toward you, and with that oh-so-familiar European tone, lets his name fall from his mouth. "Regus Patoff."

~ After exchanging pleasantries, he puts you to work. Something along the lines of "Whatever you did for Mr. Sang, while he was alive, you'll do for me..."

~ You didn't think much of him at first, only that he was a bit of an enigma and very eccentric, but beyond that, all you really had to do for him was bring him a coffee or grab some food if he'd ask. A far less demanding job than when Sang was in charge.

~ It wasn't until about a few weeks or so after he had assumed the role of "boss" that things started to get more intense around the office.

~ With the rise of the new up and coming mobile game, Jungle Odyssey, he had asked you to sit in on a brainstorming meeting and take notes.

~ As the meeting progressed, he had passed around a timer and everyone had a short amount of time to pitch their ideas to him. As it reached the last person, he let out a disgruntled sigh, letting everyone else in the room know that he was not pleased with any of the ideas he heard.

~ Without thinking, you let one of your own ideas slip from your mouth.

~ He slowly turned to you with an unreadable expression, and in that moment you were sure you were either going to be severely told off or fired for your interruption.

~ It wasn't until you saw a mischievous glint in his eyes and a small smirk grace his lips that you realized he was intrigued by what you had said.

~ From then on his behavior toward you became a lot more...friendly?

~ Typically, when you would bring him something, he'd let out a quiet and monotone 'thank you' and would pay no attention to anything else you'd have to say, solely keeping his gaze down and focused on the work in front of him.

~ However, as of late, he's started asking you a bit more personal questions.

~ At first, he had asked you questions like where your favorite place was to eat. Or if there were any good clubs around. You had originally thought that he was asking simply because he was new to the area and was looking for a bite to eat. But then the questions began to shift into something more.

~ Now, whenever you brought him a coffee or a print copy of a file he needed, he would actually stop what he was doing and ask about your day, or what kind of body mist you were wearing, what shampoo and conditioner you use, what was your shoe size, or what did you eat for breakfast that morning.

~ He started initiating physical contact as well.

~ A man such as Regus Patoff seems (and most often is) untouchable. The first and, what you thought would be, only time you had come into physical contact with him was when you had first shook his hand. But now, it seems like you're constantly running into situations where your hands brush as you hand him his tablet, or he lightly grazes your arm as you lean over to place his lunch down in front of him. Once, he even placed his palm on your lower back to gently move you out of the way.

~ Gestures like this would be quite ordinary from anyone else, but from him, it was so out of character that you couldn't help but begin to pick up on it.

~ This continued for days until, one night, around three in the morning, you receive a call from Mr. Patoff himself, asking you to come in to the office.

~ This wasn't anything new really. When you worked for Sang, he would often text you or call you late at night, asking you to pick up something from the office that he forgot to grab, and needed you to then deliver it to his place. So you threw on your most work appropriate sweats and raced back over to the office.

~ Once you arrived at work, you let yourself in and made your way up to his office.

~ As you walk in, you notice he looks a lot less tidy than he did during the day. His blazer was off and resting on the back of his chair, his tie was undone as well, lying loosely around his shoulders, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, letting a bit of chest hair peak out from underneath.

~ He doesn't say much other than a gentle 'ah, you made it' and a 'come here' while he quirks his index finger in the air to beckon you closer.

~ As you slowly walk over to his desk, prepared to take a seat in the chair across from him, he lets out a sort of tsk sound and pats the spot on his desk right in front of him.

~ When you move to take a timid seat on the surface of his desk, he quickly reaches for your hands and pulls them toward himself, ultimately pulling you down along with them.

~ Your eyes were still trained on his hands connecting with yours until he began to speak. And it wasn't until you looked up had you noticed just how close your faces had been.

~ "Do you know why I called you here tonight?"

~ You shook your head unsurely. From what you've heard from your coworkers, this man could be ruthless and had been known to strike when they least expected it. So, you braced yourself for the worst.

~ "You've peaked my interest. And I am very hard man to impress."

~ He goes on to commend you for the work that you do for him and the ideas you've shared in the past regarding a few company products.

~ With the close proximity and the seemingly endless words of praise sent your way, you can feel a heat rushing up your neck and to your cheeks.

~ Sang had hardly ever acknowledged your existence if it didn't benefit him, let alone call you into his office, hold your hands in his lap, and compliment you.

~ Too lost in your train of thought, you hardly notice the warm hand that comes up and cups your cheek.

~ Again, you look up and gaze into his hazel eyes.

~ After a long while of just looking at one another, immersed in the quiet of his office, you begin to open your mouth the break the silence, but right before you can do so, he stands up from his seat, now towering over you ask you're still seated on his desk.

~ From this lower angle, he looks menacing, like a predator eyeing down his prey.

~ He remains still, holding your gaze until he, himself breaks the contact and makes his way over to a cabinet in the corner of the room opens it up. He pulls out what looks to be two glasses in his right hand and walks back over with a bottle of dark liquor in his left.

~ He places them down onto the desk beside you and begins to pour a generous amount of alcohol into both of your glasses.

~ Without saying a word, he picks up both glasses, offering one to you, and keeping the other with him as he settles himself back into his chair.

~ You both make a silent gesture of 'cheers' before knocking the mystery liquid back.

~ It burns as it goes down, and it tastes like sweet medicine.

~ While you're busy grimacing, you hear a small chuckle to your left and look over to see your superior giggling at your animated show of disgust.

~ "Not a big whiskey fan I presume?" he says with a grin.

~ You shake your head and let out a lighthearted, "no."

~ After sharing a few more drinks, and loosening up a bit more, you find that you both exchanging laughs and are seemingly lost in meaningless conversations about anything and everything, ranging from work talk to chatting about your biggest pet peeves, or guilty pleasures.

~ The air within the office had changed from a stiff and stale cell to the warmest, coziest place on earth. The right company had aided that too of course ;)

~ Boundaries had lost all sense of meaning that night, as you began to run your hands along his arm and had quickly found your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you rested your arm across his shoulders. He too became a lot more touchy and began rubbing circles into your inner thigh with his thumbs, slowly creeping higher and higher causing a very different heat to pool within you.

~ You weren't sure if it was the alcohol throwing you off balance, or if it was just the raw gravitational pull from someone as charming as Regus Patoff, but you were slowly inching your self further and further toward him, almost to the point that you were sharing the same breath.

~ If it wasn't for one of the whiskey glasses, that he had placed beside you earlier, diverting your attention by falling and shattering onto the floor from your movement, you most likely would have ended up in his lap.

~ Soon though, you had to come back down to reality as the affects of the alcohol began to wear off. Plus, the sound of the glass shattering had you far more alert and sobered up than you thought.

~ A little embarrassed and overly apologetic, you slowly started peeling yourself off of him, realizing just how touchy you had been for the past few hours.

~ "I should probably head back home for tonight, if, of course, you don't need anything else that is, sir?" you finally said after a moment of silence.

~ He looked almost...disappointed by what you said. And looked as though he was going to ask you something.

~ His brows knit together in an earnest fashion and he opened his mouth, only to quickly shut it.

~ Across his face appears a light smile that doesn't seem to quite reach his eyes.

~ He helps you gather your things and leads you out of his office.

~ He walks you to the top of the stairs and bids you an adieu. But, before you begin your descent, he reaches for your hand, pulls it to his lips and places a gentle kiss to the back, never breaking his intense gaze.

~ He let out a final "goodnight" as you said your goodbyes as well and made your way down the glass steps.

~ He had watched you the entire way as you left the building, and only when you had finally made it outside and out of his sight did you let out a breath that you didn't even know you were holding in.

~ As you walk to your car, you find the fresh cool air of the night has you sobering up. Though, not from the alcohol you had, but from the hypnotizing aura that is Regus Patoff.

#the consultant #regus patoff #christoph waltz #amazon prime video #regus patoff x reader #regus patoff imagine

[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

[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

[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

[mlmxreader]

The Stars | Dr. King Schultz x gn!reader

summary: you can't sleep, and neither can King, which brings something to light that neither of you would have said, otherwise.

tws: swearing, a little angst

It was a particularly cold night, Django had long gone to bed after dinner, King had retired, too, and you were left looking up at the stars as you frowned; you liked being a bounty hunter, the money was good and you got to see parts of the country you had never even thought of before... but you yearned to have a home. A quiet home. A warm home. You tugged your jacket closer, able to feel the cold creep in from your legs, you chewed at the inside of your lip as you kept your gaze on the stars; you could see it so perfectly.

A home where you would never feel cold again. Three square meals a day. An actual bed with a proper mattress and maybe even a real duvet. A little garden filled with daffodils. Books from the floor to the ceiling. Clean clothes every day. A warm bath every night and every morning. You could go into town and drink at the saloon without worrying about someone recognising you. A home where the smell of spices and herbs filled every room around tea time. A home where the floors didn't creak and the ceilings didn't leak. Fresh coffee in the morning, cold beer at night. Soft robes and towels in the bathroom. A plush and comfortable sofa, good enough to take a nap on. Dirty boots kicked off by the door and jackets hung up. You could picture it so clearly, like a meeting place where the wild wolves would venture at night.

You were wrapped in the thoughts, daydreaming as your gaze refused to leave the stars, when King came to sit beside you; he draped his thick coat across your shoulders, but when you jumped and flinched, snapping out of such a lovely daydream, he whispered his profuse apologies.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

You shook your head, dragging your gaze to the floor as you sighed heavily and wrung your hands together. "I was just thinking, that's all."

King let out a curious noise as he tilted his head and looked at you; the stars seemed to dance across your features, seemingly knowing where to put their silver gazes and to make you look even more good looking than usual. He couldn't deny it, he had thought of it many times, telling you that he wished to cross that line between firm friends and something more, but he always bit his tongue; he knew he couldn't give you the life you deserved, at least not as a bounty hunter, and he knew anyway that you wouldn't look twice at him. He was older, he was a bounty hunter, he had almost nothing to his name. It wasn't as if he was any sort of charming Prince or handsome king to whisk you away and to give you a happy ending. But still, the way you looked bathed in the light of the stars, King couldn't deny that he wished to at least be honest with you.

"What were you thinking about?"

You shrugged, leaning over so that you could lay your head on his shoulder, angling your head just right so that your words fanned across his throat and made him shiver. "Life after bounty hunting... what are you doing awake?"

"I was," he paused, making a bold move to put his arm around your shoulders as he swallowed thickly, "distracted by a pleasant thought."

In truth, he had not been able to sleep, not when he knew you were still outside; he didn't fancy the thought of you catching a cold or getting sick, he didn't quite like the thought of you being out there all alone, either, but had needed to work up the nerve to actually sit with you. And now that he was, and you were moving so that you could press your forehead to his throat, chuckling softly at how his beard grazed you, he wasn't really sure what to do.

"I hope it was of me," you joked softly, just loud enough to make him tense up and clear his throat. "I'm joking, King, I know... I know you'd never look at me like that..."

He frowned, shaking his head as he shifted where he was sat, trying to think of the right thing to actually say to you. He was thankful that the stars were the only light available, as he was sure that if you saw the blush on his features you would surely mock him.

"I... what makes you say such a thing, (y/n)?"

"Well, I'm not exactly a prize pony, am I?" You asked. "I mean... I've got calloused hands, I'm rough around the edges, I'm not rich, I'm not exactly good looking, either."

Pushing you away slightly, King held your hands for a moment, gently tracing those callouses as he smiled and shook his head. "I like that your hands are calloused... I like that you're rough around the edges... I don't care about whether or not you have money... and you are certainly... cer... certainly very good looking."

You scoffed, not quite believing that he would ever say such things except out of pity. "Yeah, alright. You're only saying that because you feel sorry for me."

"I'm not," he said quietly, his grip on your hands growing a little tighter, yet still loose enough that all you had to do was to pull away. "I fear I care more for you than I should..."

"What? Like, you... you love me?" You quirked a brow and when he slowly nodded, you grinned. "Oh, fuck... King... I feel the same, don't get me wrong, but... why would you ever wanna look twice at me? Of all people?"

"Because I like you," King replied, "a lot."

You dared to get close again, pulling your hands from his and tapping his thigh so that he spread his legs enough that you could sit on his lap; your shoulder pressed against his as you rested your temple against him, one arm going around his waist as you got comfortable. He dared to copy such an action, one arm around your waist, the other around your shoulder as he smiled a little. It was a lot nicer than he had imagined, to be able to hold you. Still bathed in the light of those beautiful stars.

"I like you, too," you murmured. "But... if we're gonna do this, promise me something?"

"Natürlich."

"Promise me you won't steal the blankets."

Such a trivial request made King laugh a little as he promised not to steal the blankets, but when he suggested retiring for the evening, you dared to ask if you could go with him, to not be on your own; he agreed, although he couldn't deny that, until the morning came, he would have thought such a night was nothing more than a dream.

If only the light of the stars had the ability to speak.

#mlem writes #king schultz #king schultz x reader #django unchained #django #tarantinoverse #christoph waltz #king schultz imagine #dr king schultz

[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

[littlemisswaltz]

who still writes waltz characters x reader fics , preferably second person pov ones ? i have a request !!

#christoph waltz #x reader

[cozywriting]

Dr. King Schultz angst imagines

requested by: nobody (me)

Dr. King Schultz often keeping his distance from you, attempting to ignore his growing feelings in fear that he will lose you like he lost everyone else.

You sat next to Django, staring across the fire at King. He was looking down at his dinner and hadn’t said a word to you for most the night.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked quietly to Django.

“Nah, he always like that.” Django replied, returning to his food.

You gave Django a look. “Not with you.”

Django did not reply and instead took a sip from his canteen. You looked back over at King, who finished eating and was now staring at his feet. It was almost as if he felt your prying eyes so harshly, that he was looking for anything to do but return your gaze.

Django was first to break the silence. “Y’all gonna turn in soon?” He asked, looking back and forth between them.

“Yes, my dear boy,” King finally replied. “I think some sleep would do us well.”

Django retreated across the camp back to his tent, and you and King were alone. You watched as the older man rounded up the mess of his dishes.

“You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were giving me the cold shoulder,” you spoke up.

“Now why would you think that?” He asked, taking a moment to reply. His back was turned to her.

You got up and crossed your way to him.

“You went from talking to me every day to,” you paused for the right words. “…this,” you said with a gesture of hands.

“And what is this?” King asked nonchalantly. Clearly, he feigned ignorance. 

“I don’t know!” You huffed, ready to give up. “I just want you to talk to me.”

“We’re talking,” he responded, making no effort to turn his face.

His cold demeanor was disheartening. It angered you, but ultimately you knew better than to chase something that never existed.

“Forget it,” you said quietly. You turned away from him and began walking to your tent.

“Wait—” King called out behind you.

You slightly turned your face and saw his eyes roam to the ground. You could tell he was still attempting to avoid looking at you.

“I’ve lost people,” King said.

You turned around to face him, arms crossed. He looked up and for the first time the entire night your eyes connected with his.

“And I haven’t?” You challenged.

“This is different!” He shouted, causing you to slightly jump. He immediately regretted his tone after seeing your reaction. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded softly. “Please, don’t make me say this.”

“Say what? God forbid I ask you to show me the littlest respect of at least acknowledging me!”

“I have plenty of respect for you and more,” he replied harshly. “Do not belittle my emotions.”

You said nothing and King ran a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath, calming himself down.

“I care about you, King,” you finally said, breaking his reverie. He looked up at you.

“Fraulein, I care about you too much and there lies the problem,” he said. Even lengths apart, you could see the sadness in his eyes.

“Then why won’t you let me in?” You asked him quietly.

“I never want to watch another person I love die ever again. And at the hands of myself, no doubt.” King’s eyes welled up and he blinked hot tears away. He did not wait for you to reply before continuing. “Besides I’m no good for you, that much is clear. I’m too impulsive and you’ll only get hurt. I could never be so selfish.”

Still shocked by his confession, you remained silent. With King’s mind made up, he headed into his tent. Leaving you out and alone in the cold.

#imagines #django unchained #dr king schultz #king schultz x reader #king schutlz imagines #christoph waltz #christoph waltz x reader #quentin tarantino #angst imagine #emotionally exhausted king #everything is usually happy and soft with him so bam i give u angst and sadness <3 #cozy writes

[puppymlovemail]

♫ baby steps!

word count: 5k overall, roughly 700 per member

pairings: OT8! x fem reader

warnings: mentions of cutting fruit in changbins, brief mentions of work/working late/work related stress, CHILDREN/PARENTING!

summary: stray kids as parents. or just in a more domestic familial setting.

sorry some of these are RUSHED i just really wanted these blurbs out of my drafts! these are fresh off the printer so if u see any typos no u don’t. don’t even worry about it.

in other other news, i finally fixed the issue w my ask box so. it should be in my bio now! feel free to request something! or just pester me :)

Christopher Bang

To say your date night did not go to plan would be an understatement. You and your husband had gotten all dolled up to go to a red carpet event with the band, Chan even helped you zip up your velvet red dress and you helped him adjust his tie. Everything was going to plan until you were putting on your stilettos when Chan walked into the bedroom, caution written all over his face. “Sana just called. She can’t make it tonight, her car broke down on the way here.” He said, his right arm finding solace on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing small circles into your collarbone reassuringly. “How will the boys accept the award without their leader? You should go! I’ll stay and watch the kids.” You sighed, taking off your shoes and running a hand through your recently styled hair. He squeezed your shoulder to get your attention again, your gaze immediately turning back to his. “Absolutely not. Jeongin can make the acceptance speech, he’s the leader after all.” He teased, opting to sit next to you on your shared bed. “The boys understand that we’re parents now. So does the press. It’ll be alright if I miss one award show for the Bangs.” He leaned in and left a sweet kiss to your red lips. You cupped his face, fingers treading through the hair at the nape of his neck.

The moment was quickly cut when your three year old waddled into the room. “Mama!” She whinnied, immediately catching your and Chans attention. “Bath time!” She said, smile gracing her features, her eyes sparkling just like your husbands when he smiles. “And story time!” Her brother chimed, as he waltzed into the room, probably in search of his twin. Chans hand left your shoulder and squeezed your thigh quickly before clapping his hands together and standing up. “Bath first, story time second, you know this Tae.” He stated. “I thought Auntie Sana sleeping over tonight?” Tae inquired before whispering under his breath. Probably something about Sana letting his have story time first. “We decided we’d miss you way too much!” Chan then leaned down and grabbed his mini me. You giggled watching Tae try to squirm away playfully from his dad. Your daughter walked over to you, placing her hands on your knees to keep herself stable. “Up!” She chided, making grabby hands with her tiny little fingers. How could you say no?

That’s how you and Chan found yourself on your knees on the bathroom floor, situated in front of the master bathtub. “No more bubbles, Aera! Your brothers gonna drown in them darling.” You scolded, taking the soap away from her greedy hands. After that, the twins started conversing with each other, sharing a splash here and there and sharing their bath toys.

Chan leaned over and kissed your cheek, pulling away and interlocking his fingers with yours. “I love this. I love getting to do this with you.” He whispers. His words immediately make your cheeks tint. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You and them. Not even for a silly award.” You smiled, letting the warmth from the bath and from his words take over your being. “Best bath time ever, right guys?” You teased, directing the question to your children. “Would’ve been the bestest best if Auntie Sana was here.” Tae said, and his sister chimed in, “Yeah! Auntie Sana doesn’t hold hands with anyone but us!” She says, point at your hand interlocked with your husbands, your wedding ring on full display. “Bestest isn’t even a word, Tae!” Chan stated right before playfully splashing them with some of the bubbly water, their laughter filling the air with such love and joy. Your kids may be giant jokesters, but you know they get it from their dad and because of that you, as well, wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

Not even a silly award.

Lee Minho

Your husband had decided to take your son outside to look at the fresh snow from the most recent snowfall last night. It’s freezing fucking cold out so you couldn’t even begin to conjure up a reason for why they’d be gone for longer than 15 minutes. Little did you know your son had stumbled across a kitten, no older than four weeks at most. The cat had crawled right up to your son, and laid down on his mitten covered hands. He looked up at your husband with most love struck face imaginable. “He’s purring Dad! Must mean he likes me…” He hummed, moving one of his hands to very gently scratch behind the grey kittens ear. “Or it could just mean you’re warm and it’s well below freezing out here.” He stated, sending your son a knowing glance. “Pleaseeeeee! Dori would love to have another girl in the house!” He whined, very carefully cradling the kitten in his arms. “And your mother would not.” But after those words left his lips Minho got a good look at the feline. The poor thing was shivering and mewling, no doubt hungry and cold. A stray. His big hand reached out to very lightly stroke the kitten, whose tiny glazed eyes sparkled with the snow littered across her fur. He let a sigh escape him. “We’ll have to take her home to get her warm, but after that we have to call someone and see if they’ll take her, alright bud?”

At that your son practically jumped out of his skin with excitement as he started speed walking straight to your front door, his father in tow, shaking his head, a smile smile gracing his face.

That’s how you ended up here. A few years later. Sprawled out on the couch, your back against your husbands chest. Doongie situated to his left, Dori at his right. Soongie was sat loafed in your lap. The kitten? A grown adult cat by now, also laid across your sons lap, fast asleep. Your son? Also asleep, and a teenager at this point. Getting to watch your son grow up with his kitten was well worth the battle keeping the cat costed the family. You could remember to this day when your little boy all but ran into the house with the kitten mewling in his grasps as he held her out to you, snow dripping down his winter coat and puddling onto the wooden floors. “We’re keeping her.” And then Minho came through the door, closing it before exclaiming “No we’re not!” You couldn’t help my smile at the fondness of the memory.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” Minho whispered, leaving a fleeting kiss to the top of your ear from behind you. You leaned further into his chest, allowing the warmth of him and the cats and the family all situated on this couch take over your senses. “Would you believe me if I said my undying love for you?” You teased. “Absolutely not.” He chuckled, as his hands roamed your hair, lazily braiding strands together out of boredom. “I’m just thinking about our son and that damned cat.” You started, “Remember how mad I was when you finally told me you were thinking of keeping her?” You peered over your shoulder to look at him, his honey eyes meeting yours. “What can I say. She grew on me.” You scoffed, leaning your head back against him, breaking eye contact. “Either that or you just love the idea of this little family of 7. Whether you care to admit it.”

“Well technically speaking 7 isn’t little.”

You grinned, smacking him lightly on the thigh in retort. “Oh shut up!”

Seo Changbin

You rubbed your eyes for the tenth time in the last three minutes. Waking up at 6am every Saturday to ensure your boys had lunches packed for their little league games was becoming a usual routine in your house, however it did not mean you enjoyed it.

Your husband was stood next you at the kitchen island, helping you cut up the fresh honey apples you both harvested from your garden a hour ago. Of course, only after having woken up the boys and telling them to get dressed and packed for the busy day ahead. Changbin turned to you, apple slice in his left hand as his right went underneath it, as it it were going to leave crumbs. “Open wide.” He instructed, flashing you a smile, his dimples on display. You fall more and more in love with him everyday, you think. You both certainly didn’t think you’d be here 10 years ago, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You open your mouth willingly and let him guide the bite sized slice into you mouth. “How is it?” He asks, his eyes glowing as he locks them with yours. “Tasty.” You hum, before redirecting your eyes back to the task and closing the tupperware on your finished slices.

Just as Changbin was about to close his two sets of tupperware, a cry sounded over the baby monitor placed on the kitchen table. Worry rushed onto your face as you grabbed the monitor without hesitation. Before you could utter a word your husband wrapped his arms around you, and let his face rest on your shoulder. “‘S okay! I’ll get him. It’s about time he got up anyway. You finish up here.” He stated, leaving a lingering kiss to your neck before pulling away and nodding his head to you reassuringly as he headed up the stairs. He knew how stressed everything has been making you lately, especially with your youngest just turning one. You smiled to yourself as you placed the monitor aside and finished putting snacks in the kids rightful lunchboxes. All of a sudden the monitor next to you lit up, detecting movement and your eyes darted to it once again. The quality had increased substantially since Changbin opened the blinds, it would seemed. “Hey kiddo! You ready to see your brothers play some ball?” He questioned, as he carefully reached into the crib to cradle the fussy baby. “Nah I think you’re more interested in seeing Momma, huh?” He hummed, leaving a kiss to his sons head. The toddler immediately rested his head against your husbands chest, finding comfort in his touch. His little thumb sucked in between his teeth. Trying to pry him off pacifiers wasn’t working very well, obviously. The moment left an unspoken feeling in your heart. Your thoughts were quickly cut short when you heard padded footsteps speed down the stairs to reveal your second child slide into the kitchen; heading straight for you.

“Momma! Are you ready to see me hit a home gun!” He giggled as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head against your stomach. “It’s called a home run, Jun.” You teased as your reached down and ruffled his hair. He turned his attention to you and peered upwards. His eyes mirrored his dads almost perfectly. “Whatever!” He smiled, as he grabbed the lunchbox laid in front of you with his initials embroidered onto the center of it. Then it hit you. You and Changbin had only managed to make time for packing lunches this morning, you didn’t even check to see if the mini van had the kids gear.

“Hey! Iseul, do you have your baseball glove? Or is it in the car?” You shouted from the base of the first floor kitchen, only to get no response from your eldest upstairs. Tweens. You open your mouth again, preparing to scream a bit louder when you see your husband approach you, with your youngest in his arm, situated on his hip. He places his free hand on your shoulder and leaves a kiss to your cheek, making you complete forget why you had your mouth open in the first place. “Iseul left his glove at practice remember? We have to stop there before the game.” You rolled your eyes. Of course he left his glove at practice. At this rate, you were all going to be late to the game. As if Changbin could read your mind, his hand traveled to cup your cheek and redirect your gaze to him.

“Hey, we’re leaving early, alright? We’ll get there in one piece, don’t worry.” You leaned in and left a chaste kiss on his lips.

“How the Seo family makes it to every event unscathed boggles my mind every time.”

Hwang Hyunjin

Work these days was wearing you out. Your boss had insisted you put in extra hours considering you took two weeks off a few months ago to celebrate your husbands birthday, which just so conveniently was followed by your anniversary AND your daughters birthday the following week. If you had to guess you’d just assume your boss hated people with happy families because he’s been working you like a dog with extra paperwork. When you do get home, which hasn’t been till roughly 9 pm every night now, you felt utterly and completely exhausted and guilty. Not only were you missing your daughters childhood but you were causing Hyunjin to stay home more often, or get off work earlier so he could watch your daughter.

Today was no different. You put the key in the front door and after 5 unsuccessful tries you finally got the door to unlock. You walked in and noticed the living room TV didn’t happen to have a K-Drama on. Maybe Hyunjin put Yujun to bed early? You’ll probably find him in bed hogging all the blankets, you’re sure his day hasn’t been very easy either. You sighed as you kicked off your shoes and hung up your coat and purse. “Jinnie?” You whispered through the hallway, only to get no response. That was until you stopped in front of your daughters room, her door left ajar just by an inch.

“Oh but you must try the tea! Mr. Rabbit made it all by himself!” You heard your daughters voice ring, there she was, sat at her pink table dressed in her matching hot pink Disney princess dress. “Well if he made it all by himself…” That’s when your eyes drifted to your husband. You couldn’t decide if you should burst into laughter or coo at the sight. There he was, sitting crisscross applesauce in front of the table with an Elsa dress on. Most definitely Felix’s from Halloween, you could tell by how it was slightly too short on him considering his stature, which his daughter inherited quite the same, one of these days you’re going to have to get her a bigger table, as she was already towering over it.

His pinky lifted off the teacup as he brought it to his lips and took a sip. A grimace met his face as he lowered his cup back to the saucer on the table. “W-Wow! Mr. Rabbit has exquisite taste.” Hyunjin said, very obviously struggling to gag on the tea that was probably a mix of various liquids in your fridge.

It was then that you couldn’t help but laugh as you pushed the door open all the way. Your daughters eyes lit up the minute she saw you, a smile eating half her face as she ran towards you, almost toppling you over in an attempt to hug you. “Momma! You’re here just in time for the main course!” Hyunjin joined her side, patting her head, standing before you in his glittery blue dress. “Oh also this is Princess Elsa.” She stated, gesturing to Hyunjin. You leaned in to kiss him on the lips. “Welcome home, Y/N.” He whispered, chasing your lips for another kiss. “Leave that out of the castle! No Mom and Dad kissing allowed! Now go get a dress Momma! You have to join us!” Your daughter stated before trying to push you back out the door to make you retrieve a dress. “Let me go with her my queen! I have to make sure she picks out the best dress!” Hyunjin chimed, stepping into the doorway before wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you down the hallway to the master bedroom. You heard your daughter say something about setting an alarm and you better not take too long on your way into your room.

“Sorry for leaving you here to fend for yourself for so long Jinnie. I promise that today should be my last late d-“ and with that you were cut off by your husbands lips on yours, his mouth dancing gracefully with your own. His favorite way to express his love for you was always through kisses. He pulled away and held your face between his hands, as if he had the whole world in his palms. “Don’t apologize! I love being your husband just as much as I love being a father for our daughter, honey.” You all but melted at his words as you held him against you just a little tighter. “Plus, she hosts the best tea parties in all of land, if you must know.” He whispers, letting his fingers drum against your cheekbone as he takes in your features. “She loves you.” You hum, getting lost in his eyes. “She loves us.” He reassures, leaving one last kiss to your lips before you’re interrupted by a voice in your doorway. “That doesn’t look like picking out a dress to me!” Yunjun exclaims, causing all three of you giggle.

Nights like these reminded you why you go to work everyday. No matter how relentless it may be, at least you could guarantee you always had a fairytale to come home to.

Han Jisung

Your husband had proclaimed today as take your daughter to work day. This was in no way, shape or form a real thing. If JYP found out Jisung had snuck his four year into the company studio he might be found dead. But you? Oh you wouldn’t miss this for the world. You and Changbin had already laid a bet down for what you think would be broke in that studio before the end of the day. He argues it’ll be the mics, you argued it’d be the soundboard. As you neared the building you sent Jisung a text, letting him know you were close, as you made it to the front desk and through security, verifying you were here for your husband and no other sneaky business. You made it upstairs and into the studio hallways, your feet already knowing the way to your husbands by heart. Was it really your husbands? No. But Chans room was everybody’s room. That is until something ends up broken today. Then it’s definitely just his room. Your hand finally greets the handle and you push the door open, completely forgetting to knock once your heard Jisungs voice.

“Yeah and if you push that red button righhtttt- yep! Right there, it’ll start recording. See that blinking light up on the monitor? It’s recording everything we’re saying right now.” He instructed. His daughter held tightly against him as he leans her over the soundboard. She claps her hands together in enthusiasm. “I did it!” She giggles before he places her down onto the chair behind him and that’s when he notices you in the doorway. “Well hello gorgeous. Come round here often?” He remarks before pressing his fingers to the soundboard again and turning off the recording. “Only for super cool all rounder Han Jisung of hit boy band Stray Kids. See him anywhere?” You tease before closing the door heading towards him, he pulls you in close and you hug him tightly, your head finding comfort in his shoulder. “Lucky for you you’re lowkey married to him. No big deal or anything.” You giggle at his antics before snuggling deeper into his shoulder, your nose pressed against his neck. “How’s the piece going?”

“It’s going. Our daughters got some fire rhymes. I taught her to say swag on the mic.”

You rolled your eyes as you grinned and pulled back, placing a kiss to his forehead before peering over at the chair beside you. Your daughter was not sat there anymore. You knew it was strangely quiet. “Speaking of said daughter.” You said, resting your hand on his cheek as you redirected his gaze to the chair. “She was just there!” He stated exasperatedly. His expression was then met with a loud thud in the sound booth. You both peered over, your daughter hanging onto the mic stand which had now just unbolted from the wall. “Swag!” She giggled before puckering her lips and throwing you both a peace sign.

Needless to say that was the last take your daughter to work day that ever took place in Chans room. You were now 30 dollars shorter. Changbin? 30 dollars richer. But all that mattered to you was that your daughter never lost her quirkiness, and with her father wrapped around her finger, you know there’s no doubt she’ll ever be able to.

Felix Lee

Waking up in the middle of the night was never fun, especially with the lack of sleep you already got due to your work schedule. What didn’t help was the way your 5 year old daughter was also trying to get used to a new schedule. That schedule being kindergarten. So either way, having no sleep was becoming something you were trying to get accustomed to.

You squint your eyes open and glance at the alarm clock across the room on your shared dresser. 2:34 AM. You groan, and roll over, hoping that snuggling into your husband might make this sleeping task less daunting, but as your reach out to feel for his waist you’re met with nothing but cold sheets. Worry instantly dawns on you, sitting straight up in bed you bring your clammy hands to your eyes and begin to rub them awake.

“Felix?” You announce loudly into the dark space of the master bedroom you both share, expecting him to be in the in suite bathroom. You’re met with radio silence. Your feet find comfort in Felix’s slippers, which happened to be so conveniently placed at the end of the bed. You trudge your way down the hallway, already knowing where your feet will take you.

Leaning against the door, hand grasping the doorknob, you gently push your daughters bedroom door open and it’s then that you’re met with a sight that melts your heart.

There he is. Felix, in his 5’7 glory, situated on a toddler bed half his size. Your gaze shifts to the right and you find your daughter pressed snuggly into his chest, his right arm wrapped around her, keeping her safe even whilst they were both unconscious. As you carefully walk closer to them you notice a worn book in your husbands left hand, which was already dangling off the pretty purple and gold princess bed. Le Petit Prince.

You carefully place said book on the floor, removing it from his grasp as you place his arm back onto the bed, by his side. Felix will always be your daughters favorite comfort, and just because it’s your two favorite people in the world, you reckon sleeping alone tonight won’t be so bad, if it means she can wake up well rested with her knight in shinning arm by her side.

Kim Seungmin

You woke up to the sound of a slam, and instead of getting up to investigate it, you rolled over in your shared king bed, undoing your husbands hands around your waist in the process. “Min.” You whispered, leaning in and kissing his nose. No response. You could tell by the way his ears tinted pink he was definitely awake, so you kissed his nose again until you heard a throaty mhm? His eyelashes fluttered open slowly, puppy eyes locking with yours. He was unamused by you demanding him to be awake with you in misery, as he knew what you were about to ask. “Mini Min is in the kitchen, i’m almost certain.” You stated, dramatically throwing your right arm over your eyes. “Someone should definitely put her back to bed…” He blinked at you, but after a long ten seconds passed in silence, he knew arguing was fruitless. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he pulled himself off the bed. “You owe me.” He called out as he shrugged on the silk blue robe situated on the vanity near your bedroom door. If there was one thing Seungmin mastered over the past 7 years with your daughter, it was definitely Dad Fashion.

He shuffled into the kitchen and his eyes could already faintly make out the silhouette of his daughter in the dark, before an open overhead cabinet. “If you fall off that counter I am not going to catch you.” he grumbled, leaning against the archway in the kitchen and flicking on the light switch to reveal her hand in the candy cabinet. Little Mins head snapped to look at who caught her red handed. Whilst turning her head around so quickly, she started to stumble. Despite telling himself to stand still to prove his point, he sped over to the marble counter and put a hand behind her back to prevent her from falling backwards. “Thought you wouldn't catch me?” her voice chimed childishly with her hushed dove-like voice.

She sounded like the perfect mix of you and him. You’d tell him all the time that he better watch out because she’d make a perfect singer. You’d both have to agree that she resembled him to an uncanny degree physically, with her honey brown eyes and shoulder length soft black hair. It was hard to stay mad at her for long though, since her behavior was always so reminiscent of you both. "You better have a good reason for being out of bed." Seungmin said, rubbing his eyes as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her off the counter, opting to rest her on his hip instead. She clang to his robe immediately as he quickly closed the cabinet he found her rustling in. "What were you doing?"

Minnie looked away from him shyly before muttering "Nothing… just wanted some of Uncle Lixies brownies." Seungmin laughed as he casually started heading back down the hallway towards his shared bedroom with you, turning off the kitchen light in the process. “We ate the rest of those last week puppy.” He chimed, stopping in front of the bedroom door, fingers digging into her sides as he tickled her “You’re gonna have to sleep with Mama and Daddy tonight, so we can keep your crimes at bay.” The air filled with her breathy laughter, her head leaning backwards as she smiled in joy. “Whatever you say, Daddy.”

Yang Jeongin

You sighed for the millionth time in the last hour. This car ride was pure and utter torture. “Hey! How about we play an awesome new game called stop kicking Dads seat, mhm?” Jeongin quipped, shooting a narrowed glare to your son in the backseat and flashing his effervescent smile to him. The 5 year old swiftly ignored him and continued his temper tantrum. You and your husband were bound to have migraines at this point. However, you had to give your son the benefit of the doubt, you were driving him to his first day of kindergarten, his first day all by himself.

In protest, you placed a finger on the volume dial on the SUVs dashboard, turning up the music loud enough to crack glass. Jeongin glanced at you before redirecting his eyes back to road, faking a wince as he giggled in fits as you began to sing (if you could even call it that) Can’t Stop. After a long ride filled with endless Jeongin song covers on the car speakers, your husband turned into the parent drop off line, hopping out of the car and opening his sons door. His protests died down once he got to listen to his fathers singing. It’s always worked wonders on him, ever since he was a newborn.

Jeongin quickly unbuckled him from his car seat before lifting him and placing him on the floor. You followed in suit by meeting him on the other side of the car and placing his bookbag on his shoulder. You crouched down to his height, hand reaching for his cheek. “Hey, baby. You’re gonna do great. Your teachers will contact me or Daddy if you need anything at all. We love you, and we’re super proud of you being such a big boy today!” You stated, locking eyes with his the whole time before leaning forward to leave a kiss on his bang-covered forehead. Jeongin watched you both interact with hearts in his eyes before he mirrored you and crouched parallel to you, taking his sons little hand in his big one. “Mamas right. Despite your tantrum on the way here, we will always love you. You didn’t hear it from me but I think piano class may be your first subject today….” He trailed, winking at your son. He smiled back at his Dad and you, his expression mirroring his fathers perfectly. “No way! I have to get to the piano room first!” He exclaimed, kissing your husband on his cheek and then kissing you as well before sprinting to the doors of the school, his teacher meeting him at the double doors. With one glance back to you both, with a big toothy grin, he walked into the building, likely bolting to get to the best piano in the music classroom. His teacher waved at you both from afar before following him in. You sighed once more, right arm wrapping around your husbands waist as you leaned up against him.

“He’s all grown up, Jeongin.” You all but whispered, glancing upward to steal a peek at your husband, but his eyes were already scanning your face. He leaned forward and kissed you sweetly for a second before pulling away. “He’s gonna be such nerd because of your scholar brain.” He teased before undoing your arm and heading to his drivers side door, and hopping back into the car. What a loser, you thought, as you rolled your eyes and hopped into the passenger seat. You can bet the car ride home consisted of Stray Kids songs being sung as duets between you two, and endless teasing was surely endured as well.

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