"Run Rabbit, Run!" pt.1 - E.N
Summary: Y/n Wayne, Edward's obsession and love. He can't help but follow them, watch them, stalk them. A strategic 'run in' in a bookstore turns into a friendship, and that turns into a requited love. But of course, Edward goes to Arkham. Will that change anything, though? (In this story, the seawall bombing doesn't happen. Only the death of Falcone. This story makes more sense if you've read Year One, but if not you should still be ok! <3)
Pt.2 here pt.3 here
Content Warning: 18+, explicit language, yandere!Edward, stalker!Edward, self-hate, egotistical!Edward, obsessed!Edward, megalomaniac!Edward, mentions of murder, mentions of guns, edward comparing himself to a fox and y/n to a rabbit, sexual content, dirty talk, descriptions of sexual intercourse, AFAB!Reader, she/her pronouns.
Word Count: 6,608
Songs For Inspo:
Daydream In Blue - I Monster
Where Is My Mind? - Pixies
Every Breath You Take - The Police
~Read Below Cut~
'Y/n Wayne.'
Even thinking about her name gave him chills. A shiver scurried down his spine, fading at the tips of his toes. His glasses reflected the blue light of his laptop, eyes darting around as he scanned over the various articles. Pictures of y/n, each in different tabs, covered his screen. Each one was minimized so he could see all of them at once. It had become a part of his nightly routine.
"Research" he called it.
What exactly was he researching, though? A weak link in Wayne Enterprises? A way to gain access to more information? Blackmail over Bruce Wayne? Or, was he simply learning as much as he could about the Wayne family?
None of the above.
He was learning more about her.
His tongue darted out, swiping over his lips before retreating back into his mouth. It was late, he should be asleep, that's what most people would say. But, Einstein only took naps, was sleep really important? He didn't think so. Edward only slept when he felt like it was necessary. He used to get a tad bit more sleep, but his new "hobby" occupied that extra time now. With a click of his touchpad, he opened up a new article. Gotham Gazette. Tired eyes read the title, a hum of satisfaction sounding in his chest.
'Y/n Wayne Donates 3 Million To Gotham City Orphanage'
'"All I know is, children should have a safe place to call home. Even if they do not have a family, they still deserve love and kindness." She said as she left the orphanage.'
Edward's lips curled up into a small smile.
"A charitable, generous spirit. And yet, you are a Wayne..." He mumbled to himself.
An irrepressible yawn rose from his chest, eyes squinting slightly as his jaw slacked. He blinked away tears that formed in his eyes, wiping the excess away with his palms. It was at that moment he realized how badly the screen hurt his retinas, due to staring at it for over an hour. Edward grunted, yawning again as he zoomed in on a picture of y/n. She was sitting on a park bench, most likely at Gotham Central Park, right next to her older brother Bruce Wayne. Edward had found out through "research" that she was 28, just 3 years younger than him. Bruce, however, was 30 years old.
"So soft and kind in your appearance, yet aware, like a twitchy rabbit."
Reaching forward, he glided his finger tips over the image. He sighed, closing the laptop before standing up from his desk. If he continued to look at the pictures or read the articles any longer, he would be up all night. If it was the weekend, he could do that, but in the morning he had work. Work. He wondered, was that something that y/n knew of? Did she have a job, or did she simply live off of her dead parents money? Well, she did run part of Wayne Enterprises, so she did get money from that. But, her part in it was not huge, as it was mainly her older brother that ran the company. Edward knew that y/n was independent, as she didn't live with her brother in Wayne Tower. She had her own apartment, as a matter of fact, she lived near Edward. Though, that was not by coincidence. Edward had moved apartments recently, and when he did, he took into mind where y/n lived. So, because of his "strategic" planning, her apartment was directly across the street from his. It was concerning how obsessed he had become with her, the obsession had turned into stalking, and he so desperately wanted to have an encounter with her. Edward was always socially awkward and shy growing up in the orphanage, never having any friends or even trying to make any. He was too different. But, when he began his journey as the Riddler, he felt more confident and powerful than ever before. And y/n, well, every time he saw her...he felt confident in other forms. Edward looked down at the ground, seeing his growing erection hidden under his pants. He groaned, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose. Curling his hands into fists, he glanced back down at his laptop. He so badly wanted to open it back up and stare at the pictures of her for hours on end, but he did need to sleep, much to his dismay. If he showed up to work tired and sluggish again, he feared he might get fired. Getting fired was the last thing he needed, as a source of income was necessary to live in this shithole of a city. The twitching of his pants brought him out of his thoughts, hissing at the tightening of the fabric around him.
He ran his hands through is hair, muddling it up. Walking to his bedroom, he removed his belt, tossing it haphazardly on his dresser. Edward kicked his jeans off, not even bothering to see where they landed, his apartment was already a mess due to his plannings. In his t-shirt and boxers, he walked to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and staring at himself in the mirror. The throbbing underneath his underwear did not cease, as thoughts of y/n still raced through his mind. Some of them were innocent, he thought about what her favorite songs were, what her favorite color was, and did she have any childhood pets? But, the other half consisted of graphic fantasies. Edward did not consider himself to be a sexual man, but y/n evoked an animalistic feeling inside of him. To be fair, that's not all he felt towards her. He had many dreams about simply holding her in his arms, feeling loved for once in his life. But, again, he also had dirty thoughts. Images of her beneath him, back arched and mouth agape flashed by his eyes. He had heard her voice before, in interviews, and he imagined how her moans would sound. Would they be high-pitched, or would they be sultry and low? He favored the former, picturing himself making her feel so good that she couldn't maintain a consistent tone of her voice. He wanted to feel her touch so badly. He wanted to keep her safe. Oh, how he would love to protect her from the scum that populated this city. In a way, he already was. He would watch her apartment every night, keeping a close eye on who came in and came out. He practically knew everyone of the tenants schedules at this point. Edward spat the toothpaste and spit mixture into the sink, washing it away.
"The bookstore. That's when you'll see her." He mumbled to himself.
He brought a paper cup of water to his lips, swishing it around in his mouth. Spitting into the sink, he tossed the cup into the trashcan. Edward placed his hands on the edge of the basin, looking at his reflection. His eyes had heavy bags underneath them, a result from lack of sleep, his own fault. After a few seconds, he smirked, turning the light off and walking out of the bathroom. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, he read the time.
'4:19 A.M'
He cursed under his breath, dragging his hand down his face. It was so late and he had to get up early. Edward had complete control over when he went to bed, and yet he chose to stay up and torture himself. Why? So he could indulge in his obsession with y/n. But, he wouldn't have to stay up late anymore. Tomorrow, he was going to take a big leap. He was prepared, but he just hoped everything went according to plan. Yawning once again, he got under the covers of his bed. The erection he had earlier was still there, though slowly fading away. It was a good thing, because he was too tired to take care of it like he usually did. Edward had gone through an embarrassingly high amount of tissues since his new 'hobby' started. He removed his glasses, placing them on his nightstand, looking back up towards the ceiling. The sounds of police sirens echoed throughout the streets as he slowly drifted off into sleep, a single thought crossing his mind before.
'This city is a stain on the earth.'
~
The morning came quick, and Edward went to his job running on 3 1/2 hours of sleep. He was used to it though. Work was the same as it always was for him: boring and easy. Being a forensic accountant was easy work, numbers always being a simple thing for him to understand, ever since he was a child. Though, just because he was smart didn't mean he got recognized for it. He would get accounts done quicker than expected, and his 'higher up' would get all the credit. Edward came to understand one thing about Gotham fairly quickly in his adolescence, and that was that the lower class did not get any recognition. But, he somehow managed to get through another soul-crushing day at KTMJ. It felt longer because of what awaited him. He stood outside the window of a small bookstore, peering inside subtly. Glancing down at the watch on his wrist, he nodded slightly before walking inside. Because of his penchant for stalking y/n, he discovered that she frequented this particular bookstore. Obviously, Edward took this as a sign that she liked to read. He did too, which gave him a bit of a one-up to start a conversation when he 'accidentally' ran into her. From what he had observed, the always came every other Friday, sometimes they didn't go, but he was willing to take a chance today. His bag from work was slung over his shoulder, laptop and his 'personal' ledger inside of it, filled to the brim with his thoughts and ideas. He walked down the aisles, pretending that he was looking for a book. Rounding the corner, he froze in place, withdrawing behind the shelf as he saw her. She was looking at the rows of books, specifically under the 'Horror/Thriller' section. Edward closed his eyes.
'Shh. You're okay. Just breathe. Now, go.'
Without another thought, he stepped out from behind the shelf. He let his eyes wander around the area. Edward continued to walk towards her, bracing himself for what he was about to do. Squinting his eyes shut, he walked directly into her, falling on his back. His bag, still around his shoulder, laid next to him. Just like he knew she would, she gasped and looked down at him. He held onto his head, faking a grunt as he met her gaze. Y/n knelt down, holding out a hand with a soft smile.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! Did I trip you?" She asked softly.
Edward smirked internally, finding it amusing that she was the one who apologized even though he was the one who ran into her. It just goes to show how polite she was. He nodded, grabbing onto her hand and allowing her to help him get up. The feeling of her soft supple skin against his sent a shiver down his spine, just like he got when he looked at pictures of her.
"There's no need for you to apologize, I'm the one who wasn't looking at where I was going. And, no, you did not trip me...Ms. Wayne! I'm very sorry for running into you ma'am." He faked his surprise.
She shook her head.
"No, no, I have a bad habit of standing directly in the middle of the aisles. I get so focused on finding the book I want that I forget about my surroundings. And, please, call me Y/n. Me being a Wayne doesn't change a thing about my status. Or, at least I like to believe that." Y/n laughed awkwardly.
Edward groaned in his head, her laugh resonating in his ears. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. It made his heart warm and his lips form a smile. Now, it was time to start a real conversation. He had to get y/n interested in him.
"Well, that's understandable depending on what book you were looking at. Have you found one?" He asked suavely.
She shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. He took in her appearance, light makeup on her face, he had noticed that she really liked blush on her nose. Just like earlier, he had compared her to a rabbit, and the faint pinkish nose further solidified his comparison. She wore jeans and a dark burnt sienna sweater. A pair of mismatched converse covered her feet, which Edward found to be an interesting fashion choice.
"No, I haven't found one yet. I know what I want, but I just can't...find it? You know?" She shrugged, placing a book onto the shelf.
"Readers block?" He questioned.
"Oh, is that a thing?" She asked, tilting her head.
"I mean, maybe? I just made it up on the spot." Edward shrugged.
"Huh, well I like it. I'm gonna start calling it that...anyways, what kind of book are you looking for? Maybe that will help me." Y/n asked, whipping her hair out of her face.
Edward used every fiber of his being to not lurch forward and smell her hair. Though, he could detect a soft smell of peaches. It was a pleasant scent that made him want more. More of her. If he could just touch her...
"I was just looking for some of Shakespeare's plays. I've already read the majority of them, but I don't have them in my own apartment." He said.
"You like Shakespeare?" Y/n asked in bewilderment.
"Who doesn't?"
"I loved reading Shakespeare in high school, I got made fun of for it so much. But, being a Wayne might have had something to do with it too..." She trailed.
"Do you have a favorite play? I wouldn't mind re-reading a few." Edward hoisted up his bag, readjusting its position on his shoulder.
"Well, call me basic, but I really like Macbeth and Hamlet, the stories are interesting. Romeo and Juliet is a classic though, if you want romance."
Y/n walked over to the plays, scanning the shelves and removing a book. She opened it up, flipping through the pages. Edward watched closely, like a predator analyzing his prey for a weakness. Where would he strike, and when? Would he go for the throat and jump right into action? No. He had to be patient. If he was to truly win her love, he would have to do it the right way. But, he so desperately wanted to grab her hips. He pictured himself shoving her against the shelf, attacking her neck with his lips and teeth. Would she squeal like a timid rabbit? Would she enjoy it? Would she want him to do more? Would she beg for him to take her in this very aisle? Oh, he hoped so. He so badly hoped that she had the same filthy fantasies as he did.
"Mmm, here's one of my favorite quotes! 'Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.'.." She giggled, looking down at the quote with a smile.
Y/n closed the book, sliding it back on to the shelf.
"A Midsummer Night's Dream. That's a good one." He nodded.
"I told myself growing up that I would not accept someone's love unless they spoke through the words of Shakespeare. It's easy to tell someone you love them, but finding a poetic way is harder."
He looked at her, fascination evident in his eyes. She was even more interesting in person. Of course, Edward knew she liked Shakespeare. He practically knew everything about her. But, to be discussing it with her face to face was an amazing feeling. He never wanted this conversation to end.
"Fuck, what am I saying? I'm discussing my childhood with a complete stranger. I never even asked what your name was!"
"It's Edward. Edward Nashton." He introduced himself.
"Edward Nashton...why does that name sound so familiar..." She hummed.
He felt himself sweat. Why did he tell her his real name!? What an idiot. Stupid, stupid, idiot. Her father knew him, of course she knows his name. Should he tell her? Should he tell her about Renewal? She was smart, he knew that. Eventually, even if he never told her, she would find out. If he kept it as a secret, it would likely ruin his chances with her. Damn it.
"Um, your father came to the orphanage I was homed in, back when the Renewal project started. I applied, but then he..." He trailed.
'Great first impression, bring up her dead father. Real fucking smart.'
Y/n noticed he looked guilty for bringing it up, so she put on a small smile.
"Did you ever get accepted?" She asked.
"No."
"Oh, I see. I'm very sorry about that. I was too young to take part in any of that...if I was able to, I would have done more than he did." She scoffed.
Edward picked up on the hint of resentment. Perhaps, she felt equally upset about the Wayne's history? Oh, how interesting...
"I don't hold on any ill will towards you, incase you were worried. I've seen what you've been doing for Gotham citizens, especially the children." He said.
That was true, he held no ill will towards y/n. Her family, on the other hand, that was a different story. Sure, he still had a fascination with Bruce Wayne, but he needed to pay for the sins of his father. Y/n did not. She was actively trying to do things about the corruption and violence in Gotham. Meanwhile, her brother stayed up in Wayne tower being waited on by a butler. Edward couldn't remember the last time Bruce Wayne did something as charitable as y/n did. A ringing in y/n's pocket echoed throughout the store, causing them to scramble to grab it. Looking at the caller ID, she shook her head and lightly sighed. She looked up towards Edward, holding up a finger with a sheepish smile. He nodded, wishing he could see that shy smile once more. Y/n stepped away slightly, answering the phone and holding it up to her ear as she leaned against a shelf. Edward could not hear the conversation, only what y/n was saying.
"Hey Brucey, what's up?" She asked.
'I need you to come to Wayne Tower. You know about drops, right?'
"Um, yeah?"
'I busted a dealing and I'm not sure where to go from here. I was wondering if you might have any leads since you live near the shady part of the city.'
"Shit, look, you know I'd help, but I really don't think I should get involved with that...hobby. I'm not a huge fan."
She looked at Edward, not wanting to be too open with information. Based on the tone of her voice, Bruce assumed that someone was near her. She knew that Bruce was Batman. Did she like the idea and purpose behind it? Yes. Did she want to get involved? No. Y/n loved her brother to death, but she did not want to get involved in his vigilante life.
'I understand. I'll figure it out myself. But, y/n, be careful. This city is filthy.'
"You know what, I can send you some information for it later on." She added.
'Oh, that's great! Thank you so much, sis. I really appreciate it.'
"I know, Bruce. I love you. Tell Alfred I said hi, ok? We should have dinner sometime soon." She hummed.
'That sounds nice, and I'll be sure to tell Alfred. I love you too, be safe.'
Y/n hung up the phone, sliding it back into her pocket. She walked back over to Edward, clearing her throat. He gave her a smile.
"Sorry about that, it was my brother. He asked if I would come over and help him work on a car of his. I'm not a big fan of mechanics." She laughed.
"It's no problem. I think I'll get A Midsummer Night's Dream, you've convinced me." He smiled.
"Oh, I'm glad! You'll have to let me know what you think of it!" She beamed.
"And how would I do that exactly?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, yeah...I don't know why I said that. Oops."
He smiled, pulling out his phone and opening his phonebook. Handing it to y/n, he encouraged her to take it. She looked up at him, that pink nose of hers scrunching as she giggled softly. He could see her cheeks turn pink, and it wasn't just the blush. He felt confident. Cocky. Proud. He knew that she wouldn't reject him. She was too kind to do that to someone. He was purposefully shy and awkward, knowing that it would raise the chances of her not rejecting him. Everything had been planned out and was being executed perfectly.
"Have I earned the right to ask for your number?" He asked, grabbing the book off the shelf.
"Hmm, I'd like to think so." She smiled, inputting her information into the phone.
Y/n handed it back to Edward, pulling out her phone as well. Smirking, he told her his phone number and watched as she typed it into a contact. He could feel his heart race from underneath his rib cage. It thumped, pounded, beat like crazy and he could practically hear his blood pumping in his ears. Swallowing thickly, he gave her an awkward smile, still playing the part of a socially awkward man.
"I'll talk to you later, yeah? I still can't figure out what to get, so I think I'll just head back home. Bye bye, Edward!" She waved, walking out of the store.
He waved a goodbye, watching as she walked away. His eyes were focused on her hair, bouncing and swaying with her steps. But, his eyes trailed lower and lower, resting on the plump of her ass. The way it moved was almost hypnotic, sending him into a trance of desire and lust. But, he had to be patient. As with his plan for Gotham, he had a plan for y/n. If he skipped steps, everything would fall down. So, he simply watched her fade away, the natural bounce in her step resembling the hop of a bunny. A familiar shiver creeped down his spine, his body shaking in delight. He wondered if she would have the same natural bounce in bed. Closing his eyes, he let his imagination run wild, feeling
'And there you go, gentle rabbit. As you hop through the streets, be calm, knowing that a fox is watching over you.'
~
He was a genius. His plan worked, and now y/n was eating from the palm of his hand. Back on the first night they met, he did not text her first, even though he wanted to. He had to make her want to talk to him. He had to make her want his attention. It was easier than he thought, though, as y/n found Edward to be an interesting man. He became a frequent guest at her apartment, pretending to be shocked when he 'found out' that they lived right across the street from each other. He no longer needed to 'research' her, because she would willingly confide to him about all of her problems, past, and thoughts. He was her friends, just like he had planned. A week turned into two, two turned into three, and then a month went by. Then, another month went by. And then another. It was October, and he was putting his plans for Falcone into motion. Everything was going perfectly according to plan. Of course it was, he had planned it. He never made mistakes. But, now, was another part of his goal that he needed to accomplish. Making y/n fall in love with him. And, he didn't have to try hard. As Halloween grew closer and closer, so did y/n's relationship with Edward. She found herself falling for him, face first into the dirt. He knew this. It was so obvious. Oh, it made him feel so powerful and strong, having a Wayne be in love with him. He could so easily manipulate it, use it as blackmail, but he didn't. This was for his own pleasure. He loved her and he was making her fall in love with him. It wasn't forcing, she was willingly doing it. It was so evident how head over heels she was for him. She was practically putty in his hand, and they both knew it. He could ask her to do anything and she would, well, with limitations of course, do it. Though, he would never ask her to do anything bad or criminal, no, no, no. Instead, he would ask for small favors...ones that he knew would drive her crazy and spiral further in love with him. The way she looked at him, it fed his ego so generously...
~
A knock at y/n's door caught her attention. She placed down the pencil she had in her hand, walking over. Glancing through the peephole, she giggled when she saw Edward on the other side. Y/n was quick to open the door.
"Eddie! Hi!" She greeted happily.
"Hello, y/n. I'm sorry to interrupt but the heater at my apartment building isn't working. Is it ok if I take a shower here?" He asked.
Y/n's cheeks tinted pink, eyes slightly widening. She swallowed a lump in her throat. Nodding, she stepped to the side, allowing him to come in. As he walked past, y/n took in the smell of his natural scent. For some reason, he always smelled like he wore cologne, even when he didn't. It was like a natural peppery smell, hints of pine and citrus as well. Y/n knew he loved candles, so it could be because he always had a candle lit and the smells just started to stick to him. Whatever the reason, y/n loved it.
"I'll go get a towel, but um, you'll have to use my soap and stuff." She said.
"No need, I brought my stuff. I had some extra, is it ok if I leave it here? In case I need to use your shower again in the future?" He questioned, slyly smirking to himself.
'Oh, how precious...she's blushing so deeply.'
"U-Um, yeah that's fine! Really smart! You're really smart, Edward!" She praised shyly.
'Yes, I already know that. But, say it again, it sounds so good coming from you...'
"Anyways, let me go get a towel for you." She smiled, leaving the room.
Edward waited till she left, noticing that the lamp on her desk was on. Curiously, he walked over to see what she was doing before he arrived. A pencil rested on an open sketchbook, the contents making his lips tug up in a smug grin. She had been sketching pictures of him. He was in her mind 24/7, unable to get him out, so much so that she needed to draw him. Some of them were normal sketches of him smiling, neutral, or frowning. But, then there were more risqué ones. Those intrigued him the most. There was one of him looking down, eyes dark and heavy, perfectly capturing how tired he looked all the time. Another one had him standing in front of a poorly drawn bed, the main focus being his own body. He was gripping the frame, hunching over it. It was drawn in a perspective that made him look down, almost like someone was below him staring up at him. Oh, he knew what was going through her mind when she drew that. After all, it was a thought he had quite often. One where she was beneath him, either on a bed or a couch, it didn't matter to him. But, she would look up at him with those doe eyes, completely bare and on display. He would look down, intimidating and ominous before ravishing her and making her nails dig into the skin of his back. Edward had heard of the 'cliche' promise of fucking someone so roughly that they'd break the bed, but he wasn't trying to be cliche. It wasn't playful dirty talk to him, no, it was a promise. And if he was ever given the chance, he would be sure to keep it.
"Ok, I put a towel in the bathroom. Y-"
Edward turned around, the sketchbook in his hand. Y/n was a mess, completely embarrassed. He knew she would get like that, which is exactly why he picked it up. Smiling, he lowered it from his vision.
"These are really good, y/n. I'm honored to be your muse."
"O-Oh, it's nothing. I j-just got bored, you know? And I know what you look like, so I figured I-I'd just draw you." She stuttered.
"This one is my favorite. Well, I'm going to shower." He said, walking towards the bathroom with a bag of his toiletries.
Y/n looked at the sketch he pointed at, face turning beet red. Of course it was the one of him looking down. God, why did she even draw that? Well, she knew why, but she was utterly embarrassed because he had seen it. And now, he was getting naked in her own apartment. Did he know what he did to her? The power he held over her? Yes, he did know that. After all, his heater was working just fine.
~
As time went on, Y/n knew something was up with Edward. The way she could see his lights on very late into the night. The way he never wanted her to come to his own apartment. But, all of her suspicions were answered one night. He did it on purpose, she was sure of it...
~
"I had so much fun with you tonight, Edward! Thanks for coming over." She smiled.
Y/n opened the door for him, watching him walk out and stand in the doorway. He looked at her and smiled.
"You don't need to thank me for wanting to hang out with you. I find it fun too."
He turned to walk away, but y/n called out to him. Edward stopped, looking back to her with a curious expression on his face. Y/n fidgeted with her hands. She knew what she wanted to ask, but she was terrified of what the answer might be. Of what it would be. There was no might. Deep down in her heart, she knew.
"Have you heard of this 'Riddler' man?" She asked.
Edward raised an eyebrow, walking back to the doorway. Leaning against the frame, he nodded. Y/n swallowed thickly as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Yes, I have. What about him?"
"W-Well, I've been a little scared. He seems to have a grudge against my brother...what if he starts targeting me?" Y/n sighed.
"Oh, I'm sure he won't come after you."
"How do you know that?"
"Just a hunch." He smirked, looking down on her.
That was it. It was in that exact moment that y/n knew. There was no debate about it. For the first time in a while, she felt true fear flood her body. A shiver ran down her spine, visible to Edward. He was playing with her. He was not saying he was the Riddler, but he wasn't saying he was not the Riddler either. But, if she suspected, then why didn't she tip off the police? Why did she not say anything? And most of all, why did she feel so hot as he looked at her. A serial killer, a friend, stood in front of her, and all she could feel was arousal. Edward smirked, he could see how rapidly she was breathing. Humming, he stepped towards her, forcing her to back away slowly. He closed the door behind him, holding a hand over his heart.
"You don't think that I'm the Riddler, do you?" He feigned surprise.
"W-What? N-No! W-Why would I think that?" She stuttered.
He continued to walk towards her until she was backed against her desk. Edward now stood in front of her, eyes looking down menacingly at her through the lenses of his glasses. She gripped the desk firmly, searching for stability. The sight alone made him lustful.
"Then why do you look so scared?" He questioned.
"I-I'm not, Edward. I'm not scared..." She mumbled.
"Yes you are. I can see it in your eyes. You're trembling beneath me."
"I-"
"Here. Call the police." He said, pulling out his phone.
"What?"
"Call the GCPD. Tell them that The Riddler is in your apartment."
Edward dialed 911 onto the phone, not pressing call. He handed it to her, crossing his arms over his chest. The phone shook in her hands, her eyes looking up into his. She should call them. But, she didn't want to. Yes, Edward had killed people...but they were all bad. Y/n knew better than most people how corrupt this city was, that was why she lived in a shitty apartment. She wanted to go through what every other Gotham citizen had to. That was why she donated money, volunteered, did whatever she could to help. But, these assholes did the exact opposite. They didn't give a shit about the people.
"N-No..."
"No? You won't call? Why is that?" He teased.
"Because, I-"
"Because you what?"
"Because I'm not betraying you! You're my friend, but you're sick in the head, Edward. I understand that you hate the corruption in this city, I do too. But, murder is not the way to solve it!" She cried.
"Oh, you're such a liar, y/n. You should already know how much I hate liars..." He seethed through gritted teeth.
"I-"
"I could kill you, easily." He muttered.
"Edwa-"
"Tell me the truth!"
"Because I love you!"
Edward smirked, stepping closer to her. He planted his hands on both sides of the desk, trapping her beneath him. Y/n was now breathing frantically, heart racing underneath her supple skin. He tutted, shaking his head as he leaned down to her ear.
"My, my, what would Bruce think? The citizens of Gotham? The news? Y/n Wayne, hopelessly in love with the Riddler. How sad..."
"Edward, what are you planning..."
"Mmm, why would I tell you? Because I love you?"
"W-"
"How would you feel if I told you that I had stalked you for months before I 'met' you?" He chuckled.
"What?"
"Do you think I coincidentally went to your favorite bookstore? That I just happened to live right across the street from you? I know everything about you, y/n. I've been watching you. Studying you. Like a predator stalks their prey. And you had no idea..." He smirked.
"Edward..."
"How does that make you feel? Are you scared? Petrified? Intimidated? Please do tell me."
Y/n whimpered, knees buckling below her. She was red in the face, eyes soft and hazy. Her mouth was partially open, lips shiny from her lip gloss. He could practically smell her fear. But a sickening scent of arousal hung thick in the air as well.
"Or do you like it?" He mocked.
"You're scaring me, Edward..."
"Is that why you're blushing? Is that why you're panting?"
He leaned forward, gripping his hands on her hips. She whined, biting on her bottom lip. Edward moved his knee to between their legs, roughly grinding it against her clothed heat. A pathetic whimper slipped from her lips.
"Is that why I can practically smell how aroused you are?"
"P-Please..."
"Do you get off on fear, y/n? Do you like being intimidated? Overpowered? At the mercy of someone else? The mercy of me?"
He moved his knee back and forth again, admiring how helpless she looked. She reached up and gripped onto his shoulders, throwing her head back. Edward scoffed, holding her head in place with his hand. He looked into her eyes as he continued to grind up into her.
"Talk."
"Fuck, y-yes, Ed! I l-love it! Please..." She groaned.
"You love what? Being at my mercy? Being afraid? Intimidated?"
"Yes! All of it!"
She leaned forward, snaking arms around his neck. Without a thought, y/n kissed him with force. He took no time at all to reciprocate it, hiking her up onto the desk. His tongue slipped into her mouth, teeth clashing against each other in the sloppy kiss. Edward pulled away, wrapping his hand around her throat. He slapped her face harshly, gripping her jaw.
"You're a fucking embarrassment to the Wayne family."
"I-I know..."
"Tell me you want me to fuck you. I know you want it."
"P-Please, Edward! Fuck me!"
He ripped her panties off, throwing them across the fl-
...
No, that's not what happened at all. None of that happened. It was a dream. A sick, sexual fantasy that y/n worked up in her head as she slept in her bed. She shot up out of bed, the center of her legs dripping wet. Shakily, she let out a breath, holding a hand over her chest as it heaved. Y/n definitely had feelings for Edward, that was a fact. But, she also had suspicions of him being the Riddler. He had never given any confirmation, but deep down in her gut she had a feeling. And what did her subconscious do with those feelings? It created a vulgar wet dream. Of course it did.
"He's not the Riddler. You're imagining things. It's paranoia." She whispered to herself.
She grabbed her phone off of the nightstand, the bright light making her eyes squint. It was late, but Edward usually pulled late nights. Shuddering, she called him, putting the phone on speaker. It was stupid, but she needed Edward to comfort her. The heat between her legs was still there, making her rub her thighs together.
'Y/n? It's the middle of the night, what's wrong? You kind of caught me in the middle of something.'
"Should I call you another time?" She asked.
'Uh, no it's ok. I have some time to...kill. So, what's up?'
"Well, I had a...bad...dream."
'Oh? What was it about?'
She blushed.
"Well, it was weird. I dreamt that you were the Riddler and you..."
She trailed, there was no way she was going to admit she had a wet dream about him. Fat fucking chance.
"...you were really scary."
Edward smirked, looking through the scope of the rifle. Still no sign of Falcone. Fuck.
'Really? Well, that's weird. I bet it was scary indeed.' He feigned curiosity.
"Yeah..."
'Well, it's ok now. It was just a 'bad dream'.' He cooed, emphasizing the last two words.
Y/n raised an eyebrow, unsure of why he did that. But, Edward knew she was lying about the dream. He didn't doubt that she had a dream where he was the Riddler, though. Throughout their time hanging out, he had been leaving extremely subtle clues. Subliminal messages that would lead y/n onto his trail. But, he could easily tell when y/n was lying. When she lied, she had a habit of trailing off on words or adding emphasis to them. He could see right through her. He knew what the dream truly was. Maybe not the full context, but he knew what it was about.
"Sorry, I just wanted to call you. You always help me calm down."
'Of course, y/n. I'd do anything for you. And I mean anything.' He chuckled to himself as the clubs of the door opened.
"What are you doing Edward?"
'Shhh, you'll make me miss.' Edward giggled.
"Miss? Miss wh-"
The sound of a gunshot rang through the phone, echoing throughout the block as well. Y/n shot out of bed, running towards the window. Looking down, she saw cops around 44 Below. A street light shone down on a body and y/n gasped when she saw Bruce. Her eyes flickered towards Edward's window. There it was.
A sniper rifle.
"Edward!?"
'Oh, not now rabbit, I've got to run! I'll see you soon...'
The call hung up. Y/n stood there, phone limply held in her hand. She dropped it to the ground, seeing Bruce run into Edward's apartment. Her heart sunk in her chest, falling into the pit of her stomach. She was right about Edward.
And now he killed Falcone.
~
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million dollar man ☆ toto wolff
genre: age gap, porn with plot, angst, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature, mentions of homicide, bits of humor, child neglection, divorced!toto
word count: 16.5k
Toto Wolff, self-made billionaire, is on cloud nine; he has all he’s ever wanted. A beautiful wife, family, a great team. But when that starts slipping from his fingers, he desperately tries to keep hold of what is not his anymore. As a possible solution to cure his blues, Lewis kindly invites him to a place he runs off to when times get tough; to relieve some stress. But he just never expected a cosplaying angel, dancing around a metal pole, to be his salvation. And also, his cruelest life lesson.
nsfw warning under the cut!
18+…dry humping/ thigh riding, sexual tension, penetrative sex, oral sex (m!receiving f!receiving), size kink, breeding kink, praise, foreplay, riding
inspired by this and this !
STOP AND READ:
Typically, we keep it light here: occasional minor angst fics, but light, nonetheless. That will not be the case this time around. Because of that, I firmly believe that it is necessary to give a few warnings. There will be mentions of drug-use and homicide and if that is not something you are comfortable with then that is totally okay! I have more options for you to read over at my masterlist! This is purely fictional. With that, this story is based and inspired by Million Dollar Man and Yayo by Lana Del Rey (*run*)—what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending.
cherry here!…toto is like—a special appearance, here in this blog. probably won’t write for him all the time, but hey! we love him!originally this was going to be named yayo but have since changed my mind to million dollar man. IT WILL MAKE SENSE AND I’M SORRY, ANONS. please don’t hate the villain in me. consider yourself warned.
There was no room for love when it came to the world of motorsport. Toto’s first marriage was a transparent reminder, given its falling out. The Austrian didn’t seem to care, almost; Mercedes was at their prime, but by then, when Susie came along, he felt a gist of hope. She must’ve known the sacrifices that would be made—the expectations.
And yet, he sat there, signing the divorce papers once again. What had he done wrong this time? He had given her everything she could have ever wanted—spent time he didn’t even have—with her.
Neither of us were happy anymore, she would whisper apologetically, eyes trained downwards. But I’ll always love you, Toto. You must remember that.
Suddenly, he was fifty-two and with no true purpose in life other than to stabilize his broken team. If it wasn’t false accusations from other team principals, then it was trouble with the hydraulics, and if it wasn’t that, then it was losing his World Champion. Mercedes was already dwindling down to a mess, but with Lewis leaving—it felt like he was losing his mind.
“You understand where I’m coming from, right, Toto?”
Looking up at Lewis and Penni, his manager, the Austrian sighs, forcing a tired smile. No. He didn’t understand—did not want to understand. But he had no right to prevent the Brit from expanding one final time before retirement. I just feel like I need to do this for myself, but thank you for the infinite support. Mercedes will always be home to me.
Promises. Fuck them, they meant nothing at the end of the day, so why bother?
“Do what you need to do. I’ll always be here for you; no matter what.”
It was a bittersweet feeling to have. On one hand, the brunette felt optimistic. Maybe this was a chance to start over, perhaps offer up the golden seat to Carlos or Kimi. They had proven themselves in their own way and maybe that could bring better opportunities towards the team.
On the other, he felt like this was it. Maybe it was time to move on, retire with a sorrowful smile and live out the rest of his years. He could try fixing things with Susie. The thing was, he just re-signed as team principal, so none of that would work out even if he wanted to.
Running a large hand through his brown hair, he groans and takes a sip of whiskey. Wincing at the taste, he jumps up in alert from his seat when there’s a knock on the glass door. May I? He nods.
Entering with an easy smile, Lewis raises his dark brows in a teasing manner. “Drinking ain’t gonna help, I promise you that.”
The brown eyed man grins. “You have something else in mind, cause if so, I’d like to hear it.”
The Brit hums, tilts his head to the side. Lewis had been with Toto for as long as he can remember; he was there when Toto and Susie met, and long after when they tied the knot. He swore they were happy, and that may have been once true, but he also knows sometimes even that can’t be enough. So, when news came out to their inner circle that the two were getting divorced, he felt sorry for him. He knows what it feels like to have it all, to suddenly go to sleep alone every night. But there was always one place that always helped— even people like him.
“You up for Vegas?”
-
He should have said no. He was too old for any of this nonsense. Too mature. Only, one thing led to another, and before he knew it, he was entering one of the top-tier stripclubs in all of Las Vegas. He knows that while there is nothing wrong with the profession, he can’t help but feel sinisterly dirty. He blames it on the fact that Lewis was beaming right besides him. Maybe if he hadn’t once been his boss, then the feeling would be different.
“Oh, c’mon. Ease up. No one will even know that you were in here.”
It’s true. While the club was a part of the infamous Vegas strip, it was also exclusively exclusive. No one could get in if there was no form of proving to be millionaires, and even that was ridiculously low. NDA’s would be signed as if it were something normal. Made him wonder what kind of things occurred between these four walls.
Toto chuckles deeply, dark eyes roaming the entire room, loud music blaring. “How did you even know this place exists?”
Lewis winks, lousy arm waving at the bouncers. “You know how everyone thinks Formula One drivers are players and are up to no good?”
“Yeah?”
He smirks. “Well…they’re fucking right.”
After a couple of drinks, a few new friends—who would make great potential business partners—and a bit of gambling, the fifty-two year old found himself having a decent time. The atmosphere was a tad bit suffocating, but one time won’t kill him. He deserved it.
“Oh, oh, you might want to take a seat,” Lewis chants excitedly. “People get pissed if you block their view.”
Abruptly, the stage lights up. It was a bit alarming, the sudden speed these men took to claim their seats, trampling over each other to get front row. Carefully, he crouches down onto the couch of giddy men. This wasn’t a normal setting; girls were caged behind glass as if to protect them from these males and their slithering actions. A red head professionally swings around the steel pole, black skirt flowing, adding to the illusion men love to taste.
Whoops and hollers echo the red room as the Brit nudges Toto’s broad shoulder with a wicked grin. “Good, no? She’s my favorite.”
The Austrian scrunches his nose, half joking, half not. “Is this why you were always dozing off during our meetings?”
“Exactly why.”
It was an impressive art, he’ll give credit where credits due, and his eyes were bulging out of his head, but that’s about it. When he stood up to go and order a new drink, a string of boos were thrown at him. Even Lewis shook his head with disapproval. Man, you’re missing the show! He sends a sly grin. “I’m tough to win over, but they’re great, don’t get me wrong.”
The bartender shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s what they all say. Until they lay eyes… on her.”
“On who?” He’s quickly hushed as soon as the room changes gears. The once red club enhances into a soft yellow glow, the fast paced music slows down to an angelic piano intro.
A round of applause for everyone’s favorite girl—Peaches!
If the fifty-two year old ever thought he’s heard it all; loud cheers from fans, loud cheers for the other dancers; then he must have been mistaken, and awfully foolish. His ears ring with the sudden howls from everyone in the room. Turning around, he’s found with a girl, standing with golden angel wings. A shiny reflection colors her hair as she delicately bows, shy smile sewn onto her pouty lips. White dress wrapped around her figure as if it was tailored for her, and only her.
Yayo.
The way she pranced inside the glass box like a butterfly makes the men grow wild as they pant feverishly. She’s barely doing anything—hasn't even done half as much as what the other girls had done—and somehow, all eyes are drawn on her like a sticky potion. Toto’s heartbeat gets stuck in his throat as he tries his best to swallow it down. Sad eyes flicker throughout the club as she spins, dress fluttering like a flower in the summer breeze.
You’re someone desirable in all senses, and it appears as if you know it as well.
Let me put on a show for you, daddy.
Dropping down to your knees, you crawl towards the glass as you draw your soft brows together, as if pleading to be let out. Hot breath paints the glass before you press a kiss.
Then, you’re looking at him, and it’s as if you could point out all the fucked up shit he’s ever done. His heart speeds up as you tie your shiny legs along the pole, sensually spinning as you throw your head back. Like a signal, water sprinkles inside the box as it lubricates you down, dark mascara trickling your features.
Arms toss your hair back before sharing a quick wave as you step out, red lights turning back on. And just like that, Toto is left empty and alone once again.
“That shit was insane,” the Brits voice shakes him away from your spell as he flops down on the stool right next to him. “She must be new because I for sure wouldn’t have forgotten a pretty face like hers. What’d you think?”
Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”
-
Thank you, Ro, you say as you sign on the bottom x, waving him off as he tilts his head in agreement. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be outside, like always.
Even after all this time, you still got trepidatious. There came times where the connection was completely off, that you just wanted to bolt away, screaming like a baby. But you needed this job to survive, plus, it paid a pretty penny.
“Where do you want me?”
Once you spot the massive businessman, manspreading on the couch that he made out to look like a toy, you gulp. You had caught a glimpse of him already, basically performed for him, but you didn’t think he was the one who called for you.
He’s strikingly handsome in a way you couldn’t quite comprehend. Dark, untamed hair covers his face. Long nose catches your attention as you squirm. His hands are practically the size of your face and you could only imagine what his thick fingers must feel like. Curiously, your eyes dwindle down to his lap as you picture what rests between his legs.
“Oh, right. Um…”
You grin. “First time?”
He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”
“Hmph. Heard that one before.” Inching closer, you pour a glass of water. “Here. It’ll help.”
His hand swallows you whole as you gape down at the difference. Electricity zaps you as you flinch and he catches on. Bringing the cup towards his pink lips, he closes his eyes, lashes fanning his tan skin. Being taken care of by a beautiful, young lady, made him cringe in all kinds of ways. He felt like a child, then like an old man. To be fair, he sort of was.
“I’m not here for…you know.” You quirk a neat brow. You don’t want to fuck me? Your question has him choking on the ice as he raises his hand up. “N-no, I just th—”
“I’m afraid you’re just wasting my time, and time is money. Have a good day, Mr. Wolff.”
Gaining his composure, Toto storms over to you, grabbing your hand. “I’ll still pay you. Triple what you make, but please don’t go.”
Your cheeks are dusted light pink when you turn around, wings brushing against him. If you’re lucky, you reach his toned chest, but the height difference was scary. Enticing. You almost wish he would fuck you like a pornstar.
“You know what a girl wants to hear. I’m in.”
Turns out, he just wanted a companion. Someone who wouldn’t pity him. Didn’t hurt that you were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, either. Narrowing your eyes, you click your tongue. “She said that?”
He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”
“Perhaps, but that’s what a marriage is for. You change, sure, but you change together. Things can’t possibly stay that same, that’s just stupid.” Tucking your legs beneath your butt, you continue. “And what? Your number one driver decides to leave out of the blue? Even after it was mutually decided that he would stick around at least until 2026?”
That was something no one knew, but who were you going to tell? Toto grimaces. “It sounds bad, doesn’t it?”
“It fucking sucks.”
The Austrian chuckles deeply at your outburst. You blush at the cunning sound. “You’re a terrific listener. I’m glad you stuck around to talk.”
“I’m glad I did, too.” You play with the hem of your dress. “You’re a kind man, Toto. You didn’t deserve any of this.”
-
He slips away that night with a tranquility he hasn’t felt in quite a while. On the way back to Monaco, he wonders if you were some kind of guardian that he had to meet in order to move on from his bittersweet feelings. Because it sure did feel like it since he felt he now knew what it is that he had to do in the upcoming season. All thanks to you.
“…Toto….Hello?” Bono smacks his hand against the table and the Austrian flinches. They were in the talks of what position he would stay in now that Lewis was departing from his life-long engineer. “Do you want me to continue or?”
The brunette clears his throat, awkwardly. “We have a few weeks of break before the new season begins, correct?”
“Correct.”
He stands up to his full height. “Then let’s talk later. Enjoy your break, Bono. See you soon.” Then he’s walking out the sliding doors, with a dumbfounded engineer piercing his eyes at his large back.
Elizabeth, Toto’s rough voice speaks to his personal assistant. Clear my schedule for the next few weeks. Oh, and also; get me the first flight out to Las Vegas.
-
Cursing at the dusty wind, you huddle your way into your beat up car, fingers sliding your Dior glasses down the bridge of your nose. They were a gift from a recent client, and you never shamed them away. Taking a sip of your sparkling water, you sigh in relief at the refreshing taste. Screw Nevada for being annoyingly hot.
Tap tap.
Squinting your eyes at your window, you only catch a glimpse of a man’s clothed crotch as you yelp. Swinging the door open, you take out your pepper spray. “Go away creep, I will use this if necessary!”
"Warten! Warten!"
“Huh?”
“I said wait,” a thick accent clarifies. You bite back a smile. “Hello.”
Bringing your hands up to your hips, you giggle. “Hello, Mr. Wolff. Back for more?”
He can try and pretend that he was better than crawling back to you, even if all you both did was have a meaningful conversation, but he doesn’t have time for lies.
“I just wanted to thank you.” Your lips separate, slowly. “For everything. You helped me figure out lots of things.”
“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”
Intaking your soft aura, he closes his right eye due to the bright sun. “Can I take you out for coffee?”
-
You didn’t go out for coffee at a local cafe, but rather at his mansion he just blew his money on without batting an eye. Inhaling the yummy scent, you swoon. “This smells amazing.”
He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”
“Authentic. How’d you get it?”
“Don’t underestimate power.” Your eyes grow wide at his cold tone and the Austrian laughs. “Relax. I’m from Germany. It’s my favorite, so I always carry one with me. Call me old-fashioned.”
“Let’s just leave it at old.”
He flashes a devious grin, lines tracing his face. “Ha-ha. But seriously, thank you for helping me out of my little…crisis.” Midlife crisis, you correct him as he glares. You snicker.
“I’m glad I was able to help.”
“Can I ask you something?” Sure, you cheer as you sip on the hot drink. He fixes his glasses. “How did you end up working at Machiavellian Nights?” Your stomach drops. “You don’t have to answer.”
“No.” He nods. “I’ll tell you, because oddly enough, I trust you.” Okay, he whispers. “Are you close to your parents?”
“What?” Are you? He nods again. You smile sadly.
“That’s lovely, Toto. Appreciate that.” You release a shaky breath. “My father passed away when I was fifteen and my mother pretends to not know me.”
He gulps and you continue. “It was not always like that, though. We had a close relationship. She would braid my hair every night before bed. I would curl hers before every date. She was an amazing woman. One I could admire.”
“What happened?”
You lower your head, lips wobbling. Letting out a wet laugh, you brush a hand up against your nose. “Men are deceiving. Men are shit. Men are a complete waste of time and— I miss who my mom used to be.”
Handing you a napkin, you silently thank him. “She met him when I was only seventeen. It was fine at first; I was so happy for her. I would be moving out for college eventually, so I felt relieved that she had someone to rely on. Connor was great.”
The fifty-two year old is momentarily lost. Nothing sounds as bad as it seems, but he refrains from telling you so. “Then she got pregnant. Oh, Toto, I was so excited. A baby sister. Could you imagine? I bought everything my first job could afford. Onesies, blankies, pampers, I bought it all. And I never once expected anything in return.”
“That’s where things began to change. Connor swore I was trying to win my mom over and leave Rosie with nothing. Kicked me out before I even had a chance to defend myself. I thought —okay, I’ll just talk to her and explain that it was never my intention to do any of that. But she wouldn’t listen. She gave birth six months ago.”
“And you ended up...” You hum, bringing the mug up to your lips.
“It was either that or fast food. Salary is shit in that industry. And the customers aren’t bad. I could say yes or no at any given time.”
The brunette fiddled with his watch. “So, you could have turned me away?” Laughing, you nod. He fakes a smug look. “And why didn’t you?”
Tapping a lazy finger onto your chin, you close your eyes before fluttering them open. “I had a feeling you had shit locked away. Just like me.”
-
He bids you farewell, claiming he was glad to have met you, even with such circumstances. The way he hugs you goodbye makes the pit of your stomach fuel with fire as you brush away the urge to climb onto him and kiss his pain away, even if he promises to not feel any.
Take care of yourself, you beg, head resting beneath his heart. His breath hitches. You need to look after yourself, above all. Oh. And good luck with the new season.
He wonders why such a pretty plea makes his heart break. Perhaps it was because even though your life was at rock bottom, you still looked out for others. Or maybe it was him, but he couldn’t pinpoint it at all. He wouldn’t try either because as stated before, he was leaving for good. He could make room to visit you the next time he was here for the Las Vegas GP. Even then, he wouldn’t risk you like that.
But like a kid at a candy shop, he finds himself signing the NDA once again. Welcome back, Mr. Wolff. The usual? “That sounds great, thank you.” Taking a seat, he watches the vivid room, hoping to spot you. Set after set, he’s torn when you don’t show up. Others seem to notice you missing as they violently spit slurs of; Bring out the pretty one!
“Would you be kind enough to treat me to a sweet drink? Paloma’s are my favorite.”
Your sultry voice salutes him like a perfect hug as he looks down to where you bite down onto the inside of your cheek. Your eyes crinkle as you beam up at him. “You’re here…”
“I always am.”
He cringes, desperation humbling him as you take a seat. “Your act…you didn’t go on and I just thought you were out sick or something?” Leaning over to take a sip of his dark drink, loopy eyes train on him before sighing.
“Ugh, I wish. I’m on my period. I asked for the night off, but I’m still up to no good. Make a little bit of money, eh.” He clenches his jaw. “What are you doing here anyways, Toto? Oh shit—Mr. Wolff.” Smiling warmly at the bartender, you hug your red lips around the glass.
“I wanted to see you.”
Choking on the fruity drink, you clutch onto his thigh. He stiffens, but still pats your exposed back. You wore a silky red dress, just like the rest of the girls strutting through the busy club, but somehow, it looked better on you. Enhancing your soft features, tugging against your curves like an envelope. Perky tits begging to be licked— sucked on.
“Why?”
“I…I don’t know.” You frown. “I have no idea, but you’ve lingered on my mind from the moment I saw you, dancing sadly. Why was that?”
You purse your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He huffs. “Think a little bit harder, then.” His firm tone makes you sit up straight, drawing circles on his lap, as a tactic to not pull your strong gaze away. You don’t even notice his hard cock pushing up against the denim.
“I had just received a restraining order against Rosie.” He deflates. “I’ve never even met my newborn sister and they got a fucking restraining order.” You scoff. “Unbelievable.”
Toto was lucky enough to be a part of his kids' lives, but simply picturing the idea of Stephanie or Susie getting a restraining order against him, crushed him. Seeing you so upset about it makes him want to track down your mother and Connor and yell at them for how they’ve treated you. But then he would probably find himself with a similar piece of paper.
“Just when I think they’ve done it all, there always seems to be more.” You laugh, taking another sip of your cold drink. “They’re getting clever.”
“How are you so okay with any of this?”
You narrow your eyes, offended by his question. “You think I am? Toto, I feel like the odd one out. My own mother makes me feel like a culprit for simply wanting to give my baby sister a pair of shoes.” The brunette furrows his brows. You giggle. “I got Rosie a pair of ballet shoes. They’re the cutest thing you’ll ever see.”
His lips quirk upwards. “So, you’ve tried to meet her?” You shake your head, hair whiplashing. I called my mom, brought up the idea. I guess she didn’t like it because next thing I knew, hello, restraining order. It’s sick. “They don’t deserve you.”
Your mouth stays agape as you blink back at him, doe eyes ringing him in. “I’m done trying. I get tired too, y’know?” Edging closer to your seat, you cup your hands against his ear, getting a whiff of his musky, expensive scent. You almost let out a moan. “You have kids, right? Were they cute when they were babies?”
He nods, enthusiastically. “They’re heaven sent.” Your eyes twinkle, and he feels bad for a split second. “Want to see?” He dangles his phone towards you as you beam. Do you mind? “Not at all. As a father, you must know, I like to brag about them.” Rolling your eyes, you swipe through his gallery as you coo.
“Oh my goodness! She looks just like you,” you point out when you spot a blond girl. He grins. That’s Rosa. Flickering your eyes up to him, you gasp. “Rosie.”
“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”
Your grin widens. “Oh, handsome. Just like his father.” Benedict, he informs you as he blushes at the comment. Swiping once more, you tilt your head. “Very cute—like insanely adorable—but he doesn’t resemble you at all.” He laughs, throwing his head back.
“That’s my youngest, Jack. He looks just like his mother.” He retrieves the phone from you before handing it back. Squinting, you analyze the older blond. “Identical. It’s almost as if you didn’t partake in the game, Mr. Wolff.”
“Oh, trust me, I did.”
Burning up, you rip your gaze away from the device, trying to erase your filthy thoughts. Especially of him and his ex-wife. “She seems nice. Beautiful, too.” He hums, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
“I can tell you have a soft spot for kids.”
“I don’t want to scare you off, but it’s an obsession. I can’t wait to be a mommy.” He swallows a groan at your innocent wish. “I would try to be the best; I just know I would.”
The Austrian rubs his arm. “It’s getting late. Are you still going to be around?”
You yawn. “I think I’m out of here, too.”
“Can I take you home?”
The sexual tension is as thick as thieves. It suffocates you whole as you stare out the window of his Mercedes Benz. His digits taps against the leather wheel, legs barely fitting from how massive he is. Head almost touching the roof of his car. I swear I’ll go back to school, God, but please help me keep the last bits of my dignity.
“How tall are you?” Come again? You gulp. “What’s your height? Curious, that’s all.”
His head rolls back, Adam’s Apple jumping up and down. “Meters or in feet?” You bite down on your tongue. Smart-ass.
“Feet, if it’s okay with you,” you reply sarcastically. He clicks his tongue in amusement.
“6’5.”
“Oh my God.” You smile sheepishly when he frowns. “You’re huge.”
“They normally say that after I have sex with them, but thank you.”
Heat rushes to your cheekbones and the tip of your ears. “You know what I meant.”
“Oh, of course, my mistake.” Pulling into your small driveway, he blinks slowly. “You live here?”
“Yes, don’t drool over it, please,” you growl at his rude tone. His brown eyes spin towards you when you hurriedly grab your things. He grabs the back of your dress quickly and you freeze.
“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s lovely, but I just thought…you said you made good money?”
High heels crunch against small pebbles as you scowl at the fifty-two year old. “I want to go back to Uni and I’m saving up, is that so wrong?” He’s embarrassed now, fixated on the empty passenger seat. You scoff. “Glad we agree. Good night, dickhead.”
Toto lets out a quiet laugh. Your eye twitches at the sound. Marching over to his window, you click your fingers as he rolls it down. This is funny to you? “Not at all. You acting like a child is.”
“I am not acting like a child—”
“Oh, you’re not? Fuck. Again, my mistake.” Grinding your molars, you glare at the brunette. He aims for a soft smile. “I wasn’t making fun of your living arrangements, please, do you really think that low of me?” You look away, wiggling your neat brows. “Come and live with me.”
“Excuse me?”
He climbs out of the car, making you stumble back. “In the meantime, while I’m here, which is not for long. When I leave, you can keep the house.”
You grow light headed from his delirious offer. “Are you asking me to have sex with you in return for a new home?” His jaw drops.
“No, I’m being a good friend. You’re a sweet girl who has dealt with some shitty people and I want to help. Please, accept.” His voice is soft but somehow demanding. As if he already knows you’re going to agree.
Inching closer, you poke his chest. He raises his arms. “Are you real?” Super real, he states, rolling his chocolate eyes. What do you say?
“But my things—”
“I’ll send for them.”
“My downpayment—”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Cool!” you cheer. “Let me just go grab my boyfriend.” His smile falls. Letting out an evil laugh, you clutch onto your stomach. “Ha! You should have seen your face.”
He pinches your forearm and you yelp in surprise. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Too late,” you yodel as you skip around, back into the black Mercedes. “You’re going to regret it anyways.”
-
We still have to talk about the preparations required for the unveiling of the W15. Please tell me you haven’t forgotten?
Massaging his temples, Toto grimaces. “I haven't, but also, we don’t have to. It’s all ready to go; George and Lewis just need to show up.”
Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”
“Elizabeth, that was implied.” The assistant hums sheepishly as she continues talking his ear off. He groans. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. You’re doing a great job, keep it up. And please, enjoy your break. You’re going to wish you had when the season starts.”
“Of course. Take care, Toto.”
Once they hang up, he picks up on reading through articles about everything and anything people have been saying about Lewis’ new contract with Ferrari. He was happy for his driver, but it still stung.
“You look tired.”
Chocolate eyes direct over to you where you stand with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. At least he hopes. “Oh, y’know. Catching up on work. Can’t be gone for too long, if not things get out of control.”
Rolling your eyes sarcastically, you slide your way closer to him. “Can I see?”
“See what?”
Squinting at the screen, your eyes glimmer brightly. “I love all things gossip. It’s my guilty pleasure.” Taking a seat on his thick lap, your delicate fingers start playing with the keypad. He grunts, placing both hands behind his head as his jaw ticks. “Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton: The Unstoppable Duo.” You giggle. “He’s cute. Take it back, they both are.”
He lets out a strained chuckle. “You’re evil.”
Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you shrug. It looks so soft, he’s itching to run his fingers through it. “I see why you’re upset about this whole—‘I want Lewis! No, I want Lewis!—thing.” His smile falters. “It’s brutal.”
Hauling you off of his lap, he places you on the chair next to him, hoping you wouldn’t notice his hard print. “Is it?”
“Mhmm,” you chirp, chin propped onto your knees. “You must not mind people talking about you.”
“I do mind. I mind a lot.”
Perplexed, you take in his exhausted state. You never wanted to be famous, and seeing him live like this made you realize you had made the right choice. With slight hesitance, you brush his hair back; he sighs in relief. “It’s good to take breaks in between. That way you don’t have a stroke, old man.” His eyes fly open.
“Just because you’re younger, that doesn't mean I’m about to drop dead, sweetheart.” You squirm, forcing his orbs back closed as he squirms at the clumsy action.
“Wanna feel something nice?”
Toto’s mind wanders to a steamy place once you leap off your chair. His chest heaves up and down from nervousness, hearing your soft steps. Straddling him, you press a soft kiss onto his cheek. Relax, Toto. He nods, grips onto the sides of the wooden chair, knuckles turning ghost white. Digging your hands into his broad shoulder, you begin to massage him at a steady pace. He moans. “How are you so good at this?” Your lips curl.
“I like to think I was a masseuse in my past life, now shhh.”
The brunette’s main focus was between two things; actually letting loose and enjoying the much needed massage and the urge to slide your panties to the side and fuck you senselessly. Both were pretty good ideas in his book.
“Stop grunting,” you whisper in the nook of his ear as he shudders. You bite down on your pouty lip, leaning all the way back, and his hands instinctively reach out to catch you. His brown eyes flutter open as he admires the way you tower over him, even as you lay back, but also the way your fingers push adamantly against the knots in his shoulders. He growls animalistically. “What did I say, Mr. Wolff?”
Cold stare. “What am I supposed to do, then?”
Grabbing his large hands, you place them over your hips, an inviting smile dancing across your pink lips. Squeeze if you have to. He almost comes inside his pants as you lick your lips once more before continuing your actions. And it almost seems like you want to get a rise out of him. To make him groan, moan, grunt, cry out— for you.
Purposefully, you dig your knuckles extra hard before pinching down with your nails. He hisses, grasping your sides hard as he throws his head back, floppy hair hitting the chair. You force a whimper away as you feverishly grind against his crotch. That kind of hurt, Toto.
“Fuck…I’m sorry,” he spills out as he starts a massage of his own. You smirk, repeating the same painful actions, pushing him to do the same as before. This was no longer a peaceful massage, you both knew that. It really hurts, you whine as you place a small hand against his chest, hips moving feverishly against his rough pants. The burning sensation makes you let out a pathetic wail as you rest your head against his shoulder. “A-are you okay?”
Then, you press your forehead against his; lustful gaze challenging him while tears cover up your pretty eyes, making them shimmer even more than before. “Never been better.” With one last rub against his slacks, you’re climaxing as you plow your red nails onto him.
Gasping for air, you return to tracing soft circles against his wide shoulders as he’s left dazed and confused. His cock still hurts from how hard he is, but you don’t seem to notice. Or you ignore it. It doesn't matter, because you’re already jumping off him, lips bruised from how hard you had bit down.
“I thought your hands would hurt a lot less, Toto. You ought to be nice to me.”
Then, you’re skipping away, back into your room like a shy rabbit.
-
After the encounter in the dining room, you pranced around as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. Toto’s mind was probably playing tricks on him because there was no way you could act so nonchalant, hallowing your lips around the cherry popsicle. Is it red? You stick your salivating tongue towards him.
“That’s a dumb question.”
You frown. “Grump.” A beat. “Can I take the Mercedes on a spin?”
“No.”
The frown grows deeper. “Why not? I swear I won’t scratch it. In fact, I won’t let anything happen.”
“Tempting, but still no.”
“Fine,” you grumble, munching down on the icy treat. He smiles, fingers typing against his computer. Can I ride you? His digits freeze midair as he flickers his brown eyes over at you. Holding the car keys directly to your face, you hum playfully. Yeah. Why not, Peaches? Just take care of me! “Of course, my sweet Benz. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“You are worse than my four year old.” He inhales sharply, rolling up his sleeves as he tries to ease his crazy heartbeat with water. You giggle.
“He said yes.”
“The car talks now?”
You blush. “That’s what I’m sayinggg…”
Analyzing the strand of hair that hits your chin, he folds his hands. “How did you choose Peaches as your stage name?”
You swallow the last piece of your popsicle. “It’s not an interesting story. I have a co-worker who goes by Foxy because she once fucked a fucking grandpa in the woods and he died of a heart attack once he saw a fox. Pretty cool, huh?”
His jaw drops. “You’re crazy.” Shrugging, you kick your legs up on the armrest. He swallows. “But I still want to know. No matter how boring it may seem. I can guarantee you I won’t think the same, pessimist.”
Gingerly squinting your round eyes, your lips for a thin line. “When I was younger, my mom would bring me a peach everyday after work. That way, when she would pick me up from school, she would have it ready. The sweetest ones were during summer, of course, but the ones out of season were still pretty good. Up to this day, I still don’t know how she got her hands on those.” He nods. “Simple as that.”
“I think it’s sweet.” His long legs stretch out to kick your chair away. You squeal. “Makes you seem a tiny bit human.”
“Hey!”
He smirks. “Way better than Foxy. That story is just a murder case waiting to be taken to trial.”
“She did receive a handsome inheritance,” you whistle and his eyes grow wide. You snicker. “I’m kidding.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Do you enjoy your job? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?” You shake your head.
“Wait, let me rephrase. I do enjoy pole dancing. So many outsiders assume we’re sluts, but it’s not like that. It’s an art, whether you believe it or not.” I agree. You grin. “I have fun, but no, I don’t want to do this forever. I want to be an elementary school teacher.”
“Really?”
You wince. “Seems inappropriate, I know, but I think I could be really good at it. I would cut them slices of sweet peaches any chance I get. I’ll even figure out where to buy some more once the season ends.” Scooting closer to the table, you flick your wooden stick onto his lap. He aims for a deadpan expression. “And I just want to make it clear that I do not sleep around. But when I do, it’s because I want to. I have needs too, Toto.”
The fifty-two year old grinds his teeth together. “I’m sure you do.”
-
Wobbling against the shiny tiles, you gasp before a warm hand saves you. You let out a breath of relief, turning to see Toto shaking his head in disapproval.
“This is why you should leave to work on time. Now you’re just a mess.” Glaring at him, you fix your rollers as you walk out onto the private driveway. You were excluded from the rest of society, but part of you liked that. “How are you even going to get there?”
Spinning around, you almost crash into his chest before you regain your composure, close proximity making you struggle to find the words. “Toto, I never told you this, but…I can fly.”
“I’m being serious.”
You shrug. “I’m going to take the bus. Go back to your precious emails.” As soon as you twiddle your finger, he scoffs.
“I would take you—”
“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”
“Can you stop talking?” Beady eyes narrow up at him as he continues. “But I can’t because I’m drowning with work…You can take the Mercedes.” Your eyes light up.
“Are you fucking with me?”
He wishes he was fucking you, but no. “You better treat it like your own.” You click your tongue. See, you shouldn’t have said that because now my alter ego just grew. He points accusingly and you scrunch your nose. I promise. Handing you his keys, he watches carefully as you pull away, blowing him a kiss.
A few hours pass by before he feels the need to check up on you. He tries texting first. Busy night? Nothing. He tries calling. Nothing. He starts thinking you might've crashed on your way there, so he hurries out the door.
Paying the taxi driver, he marches past the doors as he is handed a piece of paper. He smiles back politely. “Don’t you guys think we’re past this?” The men take a quick glance at each other before nodding. Have a lovely night, Mr. Wolff.
Loud music makes the brunette wince, face twisting uncomfortably. Brown eyes study the club as he tries to decipher where you could possibly be. Maybe you didn’t make it and he was right after all. Jogging over to the bartender, Toto pants. “Peaches? Have you seen her?”
The young man points to the glass box, where you start your set. He sighs in relief as he takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he admires. Everyone cheers as you smile erotically. The Austrian can’t help but be one of them too.
Spotting him, you freeze. You narrow your eyes for a split second before you snap out of it, continuing your desirable movements. The music ends and just like that, you’re done. Hollering echoes the room when you brush past by.
“What are you doing here?”
A cheesy grin plays out. “I came to see you.” Weren’t you busy with work? He shakes his head. “Well, yes actually, but I thought you were dead in a ditch when you didn’t reply to my message or answer any of my calls.”
“Why could that be? Oh. Maybe because I’m working,” you hiss. “Listen, if you’re here as a client— fine. But if you’re here as Toto— leave.”
He narrows his eyes sharply and your breath hitches. “It’s Mr. Wolff, darling.”
You purse your lips. “Very well, Mr. Wolff.” Strutting away, you make sure you sway your hips. The brunette groans, falling back against his chair.
The night flies by as usual, until they book you. “Mr. Straforx, sitting in the back booth,” Ro informs you as you suck on your bottom lip, listening attentively. “Interested?”
“Very.”
“Actually, I am too.”
The rich accent makes your stomach flip as you muster up a stern glare. Toto’s lips form a firm line as he stands as tall as a sequoia. Fuming, you shake your head, perfectly done hair slapping your face. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wolff, but I already agreed to somebody else. But rest assured, if I have time left, then I will get to you.”
“Is money the issue here?”
Your jaw ticks, temples grinding together harshly. “You think that’s all I care about?”
He shrugs. “I could lie and say no, but who am I kidding? We all care about money.”
Flustered, you scoot closer to Ro, who stands amused with the entire interaction. “Ro, tell Mr. Straforx that I’ll be there in a minute, and make sure to apologize on my behalf.” The older man nods, tipping his head towards the Austrian as he strolls away. “What are you trying to do, Toto?”
His lips flip to a teasing smile. “Mr. Wolff.”
“Oh, don’t you dare pull that card on me.” Your face pinches up. “This is an important client, I can’t say no.”
“How much do you want in order for you to come with me instead of him?” Your berry lips separate. “Name a price. I’m a self-made billionaire, sweetheart—a couple of millions are nothing to me.”
“I could never ask for you to do that,” you whisper, timidly fiddling with your necklace. “Deal with it. You’re not my boyfriend.”
His nose flares at the cruel reminder. “I never claimed to be. I’m a client.” Pause. “Two million.”
You gasp. “Are you insane?”
“You’re right, that’s childsplay. How about five?” When you still don’t say anything, he grins devilishly as he places a large hand on the lower part of your back. “Ro! Yeah, tell Me. Straforx that she’s coming with me. I’ll give you a bonus, don’t worry.” Your friend nodded happily. Press the button if you need anything.
You roll your eyes, sourly. “Thank you, Ro. Thank you so much.” Pushing you into the private room, you yelp. “Let go of me!”
The brunette scoffs. “Calm down, I was barely even touching you.”
Shivering, you focus your attention on the luxurious drinking options. Half of these were probably worth what you make in a year, but the rich fed off of that. The brown eyed man hums. “Is that something you’re interested in?” You quirk a brow. A drink? He shakes his head. “Do you want me to touch you?”
You blink up at him swiftly, rubbing your thighs together. “You’re reading into it. I don’t.” Digging his large hands into his pockets, he clicks his tongue. Okay. Then ask me to leave. We can pretend none of this ever happened. A sad whine bubbles up your throat as you fear that he might actually walk out if you even dared to imply. “Just don’t be a jerk.”
A threatening chuckles booms past his lips as he serves himself a drink you can’t even pronounce. He takes a slow sip before he raises his glass up towards you. “You’re getting to me a bit more than I’d like to admit. I mean, you must know that, right?” Demented, you play with your dress.
Tonight, you were cosplaying a wide-eyed devil. There was nothing threatening about your appearance, not if you didn’t count your crimson red lips. Plump, round, tempting. Your black gartner drives him to complete insanity as you bite down on your bottom lip, nervously. Your red dress is too short for his liking, but only because others get to enjoy the sight of your heavenly legs. The ones he was drooling over to nuzzle his face in between. Then your horns tussle your hair messily as you pant. He hasn’t even touched you and you were already dripping.
“That’s not true, Mr. Wolff.” The grin widens..
“You can call me Toto when we’re alone, sweetheart.” You shiver, lowering your gaze. No, you were right. It has to stay professional in this setting. The brunette rolls his tongue before squinting his eyes at you, fine lines forming. The sight alone makes you melt. “You should have thought about that before you came all over my thigh.”
Shocked at his vulgar words, you bat your eyes, flustered by the reminder. You had done that. But you had the upper hand that day and that was long gone as he towered over you. Inching closer, he drops down to his knees, him still appearing taller even with the action. You squirm.
“You were not playing fair that day. How come you only got to finish, and I didn’t?” You were hurting me, you cry out like a child as he scoffs at your weak attempt. Tugging you closer to him by your smooth legs, he droops them over his wide shoulders. Oh God. Turning his head to the side, he presses warm kisses. Your skin burns with every single one. “You know that’s not true.” Then, he’s hiking your tiny dress up.
Toto is hit with instant lust as he spots the wet patch of arousal. You whine, legs shutting around him. Do something—anything—but please, touch me. The corner of his lips lift up as he bites onto your red undergarment, pulling it down. Oh, you sigh at the intimate vision. Once you’re on full display, he groans. Your pussy glistens back at him, begging to be stretched out. “You’re…”
Humming, you place your soft palm against his cheek. “Toto…”
Like a starved man, he dives in, lips sucking on your clit as you fly forward, eyes screwed shut. He eats you out as if this was his true calling in life, the way he pinches your hips when you rock yourself against his face. He’s enjoying every second, every drop, as you find pleasure with the way his tongue swirls inside of you, finding new places you didn't know existed. The brunette nips quickly as you gasp, then he strikes his tongue. Warm sensation settles inside of your stomach. T-toto, holy fuck, oh my God.
You can feel the way he grins against your pussy as he continues his handy work. Slurping your juices, his dark eyes find yours as you pant, light sweat fanning your face. His large hand presses your dress down, further adding to the friction as your tummy is pushed down as well. Wailing, you writher an embarrassing amount that would normally have you pouring out apologies if it weren’t for his strong gaze.
“Taste so sweet,” he chants, kitten licks taking place. Your head rolls back against the couch, hand clutching onto his hair as he grunts. “Open your eyes for me, schatzi.” But you’re too busy trying to make this moment last, ignoring his command. Pressing his nose against your small hole, you squeal and look down. A coy expression takes over as he pulls away and rubs his fingers against your puffy clit.
“You s-so fucking good at this,” you pant, chest rises up and down, horns sliding down a bit before he extends his long arm, pushing it back. Your chest tightens. “I know what you’re going to do…Go easy, please.”
Taunting circles edge you further as he bites the squishy part of his cheek. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to try and make your fingers fit.”
Your words come out menacing as you scrunch your eyebrows together, a worried look clear to the Austrian. Kissing the inside of your thigh, he nods. “You’re an extremely smart girl.” Another kiss. “I’ll go slow. You won’t even feel any discomfort, just pleasure.”
“Wait!”
Panic strikes his face as you disconnect his left hand from your breast. Bringing his hand up, you inspect the wedding band. Why are you still wearing this? He groans. “Publicity. No one knows yet. They won’t know for a while, so I can’t take it off until then.” You hum, then slide his ring finger into your mouth. You can taste yourself, long digits immediately hitting the back of your throat as you gag. “What are you—”
Then he feels it. Your soft tongue and the way it lubricated the steel before you gently bit down and started pulling his hand back. His cock grows more pained from how hard he’s become. With a pop you smile, eyes crinkling as you show off the metal. “Better.”
“You’re…” I know, you seductively whisper as you return his hand to where it laid. Is that not what you like about me? The man practically growls as he slams two thick fingers inside of you. Your body jolts as you cry out. So good, Toto. His cock twitches at you ragged praises. His fingers barely even fit inside your tiny hole, but it sure as hell reaches your g-spot. White splotches burn your eyes as you dig your nails onto the side of his thick neck.
“Just like that. Oh, Toto.” He adds a third finger, and you hiss at the burning sensation. “That’s too much! Fuck.” He makes up for it, drawing figure 8’s between your velvety walls as you open up to him. Your legs start to slip down his shoulders as he spits. Keep them in place. You whimper, but obey, nonetheless.
The pad of his fingers continue assaulting your sweet spot, curling at a perfect angle. Your moans grow louder. Chocolate eyes flicker up to face your fucked up state. “Close?” You nod, vigorously. A warm strip teases your slippery lips. “Good. You’re doing so good, Peaches.”
Your hips buck suddenly as you suffocate him with your body, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Picking up on your candy nectar, he groans like a madman, greedy tongue swiping to lick every last drop. Shuddering at the feeling, you push his head away from in between your legs and grab him by the collar. For a second, he thinks you might kiss him, but when you don’t he realizes he’s disappointed. Instead, you plant a kiss on his cheek, hot breaths wrapping around his skin.
“Guess that makes us even, Mr. Wolff.”
-
“And then I rode a pony! I begged mama to let me get on a horse instead, but I just got a good scolding. But you would’ve let me, right papa?” Toto theatrically grins at Jack.
“Don’t tell her, but yes. I would have let you because you're a big boy now, aren't you?” The four year old nods, blond hair covering his eyes as he brushes it away with powdered hands from his donut. I miss you. When are you coming back?
Pressure tugs at the Austrians chest as he sighs. Jack was too young—he wouldn’t understand that he and Susie would no longer be living together. It was a mutual decision to tell him when the time was right, but it still killed him to lie to his son. Especially when he beams back with bright eyes. Toto winces. “Soon.” A pin drops. “Have you eaten your vegetables for the day?” Jack sprints away.
A soft laugh is heard from the other side of the screen as Susie comes to view. “He has not, by the way. Hi, Toto.” The brunette waves. “Are you actually busy with work or are you trying to forget about all your fatherly duties?”
“Is it that obvious?”
The blond chuckles. “Whatever it is, it’s great that you’ve taken time to yourself. Just don’t take too long.” Signing off, the fifty-two year old is left staring at his own reflection.
“He’s cuter than the pictures.” Toto flinches with surprise. Standing in a summer dress, you lick your lollipop. “His voice is super squeaky; it’s adorable.”
“Do you need something?”
His question may seem rude, but it’s not meant to come off as so. His voice is filled with genuine concern as he furrows his brows. You shake your head. “I’m bored, that's all.”
The brunette scoffs. “And by all means, you came to bother me.” A giggle dances out of you as you brush your hair back. Your sweet scent reaches him, even though you stand far enough away to make a run for the hills. “But I do have time. What do you have in mind?”
“I want to talk to my mom.” Your words shock him but he listens attentively, watching you as you sit on top of the table, legs swinging with rigidness. “I want to try and fix things.” He frowns. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You shift in an uncomfortable manner. “Well…”
“What did you do?”
“Remember how I got a restraining order, but I’ve never stepped close to Rosie?” He nods. You nibble on your thumb. “I s-sort of lied.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve met her, kind of…” You pout, hazed expression carving out through your doll features. “But I can explain.”
He sighs. “Please do.”
Your cheeks flush. “A few weeks before I met you, Connor called me. And I picked up. He told me he was willing to let me meet my sister, but only if I let him borrow fifty grand. To be honest, I don’t care if I never get my money back— I just wanted to be able to recognize Rosie’s face. Of course I said yes.” The Austrian listens carefully, loopy eyes dedicated to you. “I bought her ballet shoes, the one’s I told you about.”
“She was perfect. She giggled like the most angelic thing and her eyes crinkled in a way that made me love her instantly. I asked why Connor needed the money and if they were in trouble, but he only ignored me. Then he tried to kiss me.”
“He what?”
A timid smile plays out. “It’s okay, he does that sometimes, but I’m always able to push him off because most of the time he’s drunk out of his mind. I don’t normally care, but he had Rosie… What if because of some stupid mistake he put her in danger? I gave Rosie her gift and paid an Uber to take them back home.”
“My mom found out about the meet-up and marched right to my work. Don’t ask me how she got in. She yelled at me with such anger that I almost wanted to cry. She said I wanted to steal both Rosie and Connor from her. I promised that wasn’t true, but she didn’t care. Then I got my restraining order.”
The brunette’s words get stuck as he gapes at you. Clearing his throat, he drums his fingers against the table. “You should have told me the truth,” he begins. Hurt slashes your face—you thought he would understand. He offers a friendly smile. “But still…you’ve done nothing wrong.” A beat. “I can help you. Well, my lawyers can.”
Tears form inside your jello eyes. “Are you serious?”
He nods. “Your sister can’t grow up in a household that doesn’t want her, but keeps her just to twist the knife. Connor will pay for what he’s done to you.” Leaping off the table, you cross your arms. No. You can’t bring that up. He sends a sharp glare. “What he did was wrong, can’t you see?” Your bottom lip wobbles. She’s going to hate me even more. Tenderly, he sighs as he strolls over, cupping your face. “She shouldn’t, but if she does, at least you’ll be free from him. Has he only tried to kiss you?”
Closing your eyes, you release a wet breath. “He’s touched me a couple of times.” The Austrains eyes darken. Pushing his hands down, you quickly take a step back. “But by then I was due to move out, so it doesn’t really matter!”
“It matters a little,” he growls. “None of this is normal.” You flinch at his strong tone. “Sweetheart, tell me one thing; what would you do if God forbid, he did the same thing to Rosie?”
You gasp. “I would murder him.”
“So, you agree that we have to do something about this?” Hesitantly, you nod. “I’ll reach out to my attorney as soon as possible. I promise you that all of this will get taken care of.” Muscular arms drape over your shoulders as he hugs you. Bewildered, you blink as you stiffen. “You don’t hug much?”
“Nope.”
He booms with laughter, chest vibrating as you smile at the feeling. Everything about this feels right, so then why does that scare you?
-
He vows to be back as soon as he’s done with the car reveal. I don’t care, you reply as you pop a mint into your mouth, getting ready for work.
You’re going to miss me, watch.
And damn him, the fucker was right—you did. A part of you wishes he would rush past the doors, yapping about he thought you were dead and didn’t ask for permission to take the Benz. But he was across the world, smiling wide at media duties as you watched behind a tiny screen. It’s good that he’s taking time to see Jack, too.
“Why are you sighing so sad?” Roxy asks, fixing her combat boots. “Not getting any clients? Though I doubt it. They love you.”
You let out a forced laugh. “I’m not sad—tired.”
The red head furrows her brows suspiciously before hugging you. Your arms dangle lazily as you scrunch your nose. She giggles. “Does this have to do with Mr. Toto Wolff? He’s hot—crazy hot.” She untangles herself from you. “He must be the devil himself.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh yeah,” she cheers happily. “But also, you’re totally in love.” Your stomach drops. No, I am not. Roxy rolls her eyes. “You’re a good liar, but you’re not that good. I’ve noticed the way you look at him. Like you want to eat him alive as you kiss him until your lips snap.”
You wince at the image. “You have a way with words…”
She beams, thin brows raising up. “I’ve also noticed that you haven’t gone into the private room since he walked in through those doors. So what, you’re just going to keep pretending?”
“You’re such a creep!” you squeal, delicate hand slapping her thigh. She squeals lightheartedly. You’re missing out on a shit ton of money. We’re talking dough. And yet you don't bat an eye because you don’t want anyone but him. Did I nail it?
You pinch your fingers together as you huff. “You’re crazy. Crazy. There is no way I could be in lo—” Hey! The ringing sound makes your blood run cold as you fear to turn around. Look at me. Foxy stares back at you with anxious eyes. Do you know her? Looking down onto your lap, you nod. “That’s my mother.”
“Oh shit.”
A dry hand yanks you by the arm as she spins you around. “I’m talking to you. Why won’t you look at me?”
You flinch. “I’m working, you can’t be doing this—”
“I don’t give two shits if you’re working or not, if I say we need to talk, then we need to talk.” Ro shakes his head, distressed as he apologizes. I’m so sorry, Peaches. She said she was your mom and I…I didn't know what to do. You smile back softly.
“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”
As soon as your mother enters the dark area, she whistles. “Fancy, but really? Bending over for any man willing to pay you a couple cents? That’s disgusting.”
Your cheeks burn up as you fight back tears. “What do you want? Is Rosie okay?” Panic rushes through your veins as you grab her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. She’s so thin, you think you might break her. “Is she okay, I said?”
“She’s fine,” she yawns. “So…this is what you’re up to? It always…catches me by surprise. Not really.”
“I had no choice,” you whisper meekly. “You gave me no choice.”
The older woman smirks. “Don’t you dare blame me. No one makes you do anything— this was your decision.”
You let out a tired sigh. “Just tell me what you want…”
Her eye twitches, as if she remembers why she was so angry to begin with. “I got your complaint; you’re suing me for being a bad mother and Connor for…assaulting you? Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”
“I’m not lying—”
“Really?”
“Why would I lie?” you yell back, acid sliding down your cheeks. “I would never make up such a thing. He assaulted me countless times as you never did a single thing.”
“I never saw anything.”
You let out a bitter laugh. “You walked in on it! You called me a slut! I was seventeen for fuck sakes. But no—you blamed me for sleeping with your husband instead.” You take a good look at her; dark undereyes, frail figure, needles imprints everywhere. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to think about Rosie—”
“Rosie, Rosie, Rosie—I could not care any less about her! She just bugs with all her crying. It’s exhausting.”
“She’s just a baby.” Grabbing her hands, you soften your gaze. “If you don’t want her, fine, let me raise her…I swear I can do it.”
Your mother perks up. “You would do that?” Yes. Of course I would, you respond instantly. You’ll never hear about us ever again. Her thin hand cradles your cheek warmly, and for a moment, you let yourself lean against it. Then she pulls away and strikes you harshly, causing you to stumble back. “Why would I ever please you like that?”
Bring your hand up to your stinging flesh, you sob. “I-I…what?”
“Here’s what you’re going to do; you're going to drop the charges against me and Connor.”
“No.”
She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”
Rising up with shaky legs, you keep a firm face even though it begs to howl in pain. “I said no. You’re not going to hand her over willingly, okay…Then I’m taking you to court.”
“Like hell you aren’t.” Tugging your arm, she presses her face insanely close to yours. You wince at the smell of intoxication; you can’t even tell what kind. “I will fucking kill you, do you hear me?”
You let out a wet laugh, ripping your arm away from her tight grip. “I don’t care. I don’t care anymore, but I am saving my sister from you two—no matter what.” Her nostrils flare as she heaves. You let out a sad whimper. “When did you become so inhuman? You used to be kind, beautiful, ha—”
“Heartbreak does that to a person,” she simply states before walking out, leaving you to yourself as you finally come crashing down.
-
He didn’t expect for there to be a racket, but the house felt awfully quiet. He knows you weren't at work—he had checked. He thought maybe you could have been out with friends, so he sighs before resting on the couch. He sits there for an hour or so before heading upstairs to take a shower.
As soon as he enters the bedroom, he finds you covered with thick blankets as you cry. Alarmed, he rushed to your side of the bed. Oh my God, you shriek at the anonymous person before squirting. “When did you get here?”
“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”
You hope brushing your tears away would stop him from asking questions. “What makes you think something is wrong?”
A pinched up expression maps out. Your chin forms a peach seed as you let out a weak sob and stand on the bed, making you the same height as him, throwing your arms around his neck. He’s stunned, but snaps out of it as he hugs you back, calloused fingers playing with your soft hair. “What’s wrong?”
“My mom visited me at work. She said some nasty things, but that doesn’t matter to me, what does is that she won’t let me adopt Rosie,” you muffle against his neck, salty tears wetting his collared shirt. “She’d rather raise her out of spite. She’s not made for this, she's malicious.”
“What else did she say?”
You pause, sniffling before pulling back with a reindeer nose. “That’s it.”
The Austrian lowered his gaze with subtle threat. “No, tell me everything she told you.”
“I swear that’s all.”
His brown eyes scan your face, but you remain still, only shaky breaths being released. He clenches his jaw. “Where does she live?” Your face drops. Why do you want to know? “Where does she live?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Stop being so stubborn and let yourself be helped—”
“I don’t need your help anymore, Toto!” You purse your lips, trembling hands brushing your hair back. Anger rushes over him as he inspects the purple bruise.
“Who did this to you?”
Sitting back down on the bed, your nose twitches. “I’m moving out.”
“Who fucking did this to you?” His voice is lethal. Thank you for trying to fix things, but I’m sure I can do it myself from now on. “What you don’t seem to understand is that you don’t have to. It was your mother, correct?” Forlorn, you agree with your silence. “What have they done to you?” he whispers, pain lacing his raw voice.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” you whisper, salty tears sliding down. “I’m going to kill your image—they’re going to hate you because of me.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” the brunette ricochets back. “All I care about is that you’re okay. That you find the happiness you deserve to have.”
Grimacing, you sniffle, shaking your head. “I’m starting to think that doesn’t exist. Or at least I’m so unlucky that I won’t get a piece,” you joke. “The closest thing I’ve felt to that is when I met you.” His heart melts as he stares back, adoringly. “You’ve helped me in so many ways, Toto. Thank you for that.”
“But—”
“I know.” Rising up on the fluffy bed, you tower over him a bit, pressing kisses on his temples, cheeks, nose, neck. “You’re the only man who's ever made me feel something real. I can’t explain it, but I hope it makes sense.”
He gulps. “It does. You want to know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve made me feel the exact same way from the moment you stepped into my life.” He closes the gap between you two as you stumble back against the mattress, but his large hands prevent you from getting away. “You’re not perfect—you’re flawed. You don’t have your life together—but you’re trying to. You’re not the tough girl you make yourself out to be—but that’s because you feel the need to build up walls to protect yourself from others.” Your stomach churns with every word he speaks. “And somehow…you have me wrapped around your finger.”
It happens so quickly, the way he presses his lips against yours. He can taste the saltiness but doesn’t dare to pull away. Like an animal, you move your mouth against his, whimpers flowing to his ears like symphonies. Toto knows why you never made the first move; you were scared to admit your feelings. But he was too.
Almost as if you read his mind, you run your fingers against his scalp as he breathes out, against your open mouth. “You won’t do the same, right Toto?”
“What, sweetheart?”
Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”
“Unless you ask me to, then no.” He pecks your temple. “I can’t even imagine living without you anymore.”
That’s all it takes as you jump on him, silky legs wrapping around his torso like a piece of ribbon. He grunts loudly when you bite down on his bottom lip before letting go. “God, Toto, you’re—” As soon as he sucks on your throat, your sentence dies. Writhing against him, you try pushing him off as he chuckles, then he sets you down against the white sheets.
Immediately, you crawl back to the edge of the bed to where he still stands. Frisky hands tremble as you aim for his belt. Such a pretty girl, he thinks as you slip it off. You don’t have to do this. “I owe you, remember?” Then eager hands push his pants down, along with his boxers.
You knew he would be big, but that was an understatement. Toto was huge. Being 6’5 should have been a warning itself, but still. Drooling over his cock, you lick your lips, doe eyes fixating back to him. “I might not be able to take it all in my mouth,” you sheepishly state, red faced. The fifty-two year old has probably had a much better encounter; you were just making a fool out of yourself. Running his thumb against your cheekbone, the corners of his lips fly up.
“I’ll walk you through it.”
Humming, you delicately wrap your hand around his length. Even just feeling it makes the heat in your belly grow. He clenches his jaw. Jerking him off, you wrap your lips around the pink tip. The Austrian releases a dirty groan, hips bucking as you smile around him. Pulling back, you stare up expecting the next step. Start off how you normally would.
Pouty lips welcome him down your throat as you whine, the vibrations sending him into an orbit. When your palm slithers to what you can’t reach, he tsks. “You haven’t even tried.” Soft brows pinch together as if to say; Probably because I know I can’t either way. His nostrils flare. “Relax your jaw.”
Doing as you’re told, you gag as you squeeze your eyes shut and curl your toes. Your back arches, ass flying up as you struggle. A large hand reaches out to smack it. Yelping, you ease your mouth, thick member sliding down furthermore than you could have even imagined. There you go.
Swallowing around him, you bob your head at a steady pace, reliving the steps, too scared to mess up. The Austrian throws his head back, sharp jaw in clear display as he pants. “Just like t-that, fuck. You’re doing so…shit.” While he’s enjoying himself, tears burst out as you clench your eyes, lashes becoming darker. The feeling is definitely getting him off, but he wanted to make things easier for you.
Brushing your untamed hair back, he traces the bridge of your nose. Your orbs remain closed, and he finds himself missing them. “Breathe through your nose.” Ragged breaths fly out as your fingers dig against his thighs. He hisses. But gradually, it gets better. Glossy eyes stare up at him, lips stretch around his cock as you continue your filthy movements.
As if to prove yourself to him, you deepthroat him even more as his head rolls back, floppy hair following along. Soft fingers brush against his legs as he shudders, face twisted with pleasure. Pulling away, you swirl your wet lips against his tip, feeding off of his precum before forcing yourself back down.
Thick ropes of cum slide down your throat as you moan loudly. The brunette grunts, shaky breaths flying past his lips. With a teasing pop, you kneel up as you open wide. He moans at the sight of his release swimming inside your sinister mouth, then you swallow. Even though your throat is extremely sore, you still beam at him.
“Where have you been all my life?.” Climbing over you, he lays you flat, slipping your dress off. He’s stunned to find out you’re completely naked. Cherry red feathers on your cheeks. “Are you sure you didn’t know I was going to be back?”
Your lips curl. “No idea.”
He wraps his mouth against your bud as you whimper, hand massaging his head as he repeats his actions to the other. You could definitely fall asleep to this. When you open your eyes, you’re impressed to find out he’s completely stripped down, toned body exposed. The sight makes you grow excited, nervous.
“Are you on birth control?”
You curse softly. “I’m not. Crap.” Disappointed, you’re expecting him to climb off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he let out a raw chuckle. “I t-told you I don’t fuck men on the regular—”
“I don’t need the reminder,” he grunts. His brown eyes soften. “What’s your wish in life?”
Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”
“Cute.” Flustered, you focus on his contracting abs. Foaming at the mouth, you try to picture rubbing your core against them. “The other one,” he demands.
“Oh…” No. He can’t possibly mean… Your heart stops beating. “To be a mom.”
“There it is.”
Briskly, he pushes into you as you wince in pain. I know, I know, he coos. But it’s better this way. It won’t feel so bad in a few minutes. Crying against his humid chest, your jaw hangs open. “It really hurts, Toto. Oh…it burns.” Hot tears reestablish themselves inside your orbs. “You’re too big.”
“Breath, sweetheart, breath.” His voice calms you down as your mewls lessen. “See?” You hum. “I’m going to move, alright?”
“O-okay,” you respond, dizzy. The feeling returns—less painful—but returns, nonetheless. Panic expands through your chest as you begin to think he might split you in half. His cock was just so thick and veiny. But it felt delicious between your velvety walls. “Fuck, baby,” you pant.
“I knew you could do it.” A warm peck lingers on your shoulder. “You feel so tight, schatz. So warm.” He sighs in relief as your tiny cunt compresses against his length, easing the pain from being as hard as a rock. Worse. Strong arms pick your legs up over his bare shoulders, making him travel deeper.
“Toto, Toto, Toto—”
Eyes entertained against your slippery hole, he raises his brows. Yeah, baby? Getting a hold of his hand, you bring it over your stomach. His jaw clenches. “I can feel you.” Writhing in ecstasy, you toss your head to the side, small whines echoing between the vaporized walls. Pouding into you at a faster pace, he growls, bite marks being left behind on your legs. You hiss, clamping your eyes even harder, which makes you clench around his cock even more.
“Do that again,” he begs. “Do it—” You oblige, attention set on how he moans feverishly, hands adding pressure to your legs. For sure his imprints would be left behind. Taking advantage of the little power you have, you untangle yourself, greedily climbing onto his thick lap.
“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.”
He looked more than good—he looked eternal. The way his chest heaves, his soft pants, sweaty hair framing his handsome face, dark eyes praising you as if you were Athena herself. A confession finds into your brain as you halt. Beads of sweat cover his long nose as he appears concerned by the sudden break. Is everything okay? Rubbing your eyes as if you just had the worst nightmare, you blink hastily.
Roxy couldn't have been right—she never was. Except, she is this time. It's as if a warm glow towers over him, your chest feels awfully vacant, but you’re not scared because you know your heart has found its home in the palm of his hand. You laugh in amusement as you touch his face all over. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “What’s so funny?”
“I love you, Toto Wolff.”
A lump forms inside his throat as he tilts his head. “You do?”
You shrug sheepishly. “I do.” Kissing his lips, you sigh with content. “I love you, I love you, I love you; I adore you.” He can hear the clock ticking as he stares back with his lips slightly parted. “You don’t have to feel the same, you dont have to say it back—I don’t care, but I can’t keep living a life of regret…”
“I love you, too.” Cartoon eyes blink back at him as he chuckles. “Do you believe me?”
“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”
Shifting on top of the Austrian, you make sure to slip him back inside as you moan in unison. Riding someone has never felt so addicting. Gasping at the raw feeling, you dig your nails onto his shoulders. When you look down at him, you are pleased to find him struggling to catch his breath. His fingers pinch your hips harshly as you bounce harder and faster, as if he would regret his words and leave you. “So big.” You drool, hair flourishing around you. “Stretching me out so good, Mr. Wolff.” He growls at you captivating words. “Making it so easy to ride you, huh? Cock brushing against the perfect sp—oh my God.”
Your face twists up with pleasure when the tip of his cock brushes against the mushy part that makes you almost black out. Movements slow down but it’s not long before he lifts you up and slamming you back down. “Toto!” you squeal, flimsy arms reaching out to balance yourself on his wide shoulders. Everytime he hauls you up and you look back at him, he represents like a giant. Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging wide open. “I-I’m close-e-e.”
“Me too,” he grunts. Like a devilicious man on a mission, he slaps your face carefully, forcing you to connect your glossy orbs with his loopy ones. “Gonna let me cum inside? Carry my baby, just like you’ve always wanted?”
“Yes,” you chant. “Yes—all of it—yes.” Cradling his cheek against your sweaty palm, you smile. “Cum inside of me, Wolff.”
With one final push, you both release loud moans, a strong wave of orgasms crashing violently against one another. Huffing, he makes a ponytail with your messy hair before letting go. “You think it worked?” You giggle.
“We���ll have to wait and see.” Leaning towards him, you kiss him gingerly. His mind grows blurry with how meaningful you make it seem. I’m yours—my heart is all yours—but please don’t break it, it seems to tell him as his enormous hands squish you closer to him, as if that were possible.
“I know of a few ways we can make sure.”
-
Though you had mutually admitted your feelings to one another, there still didn’t appear to be a proper label to it all. Time was slipping, he would soon have no other choice but to leave and face all his responsibilities.
But you can come back with me, he would desperately bring up as he fucked you against the wall. Tits would be bouncing at a hasty speed as you look back with your mouth in an O. I want you to. You won’t ever have to worry about anything, I promise. You can go back to Uni. You’ll get custody over Rosie, and Jack will be over the moon. We could have a family of our own, just you and I, Peaches. Huh? How does that sound, baby?
It sounded perfect; like a dream. You could taste it already. Early morning calls that you wouldn’t mind because he’d be laying down next to you. Quiet time as you jot down notes and he stresses over the next big decision for the team. And at the end, you would be glad you made the choice to choose him. Just like he chose you.
With shaky hands, you brush his messy hair back as he dotes on your bambi eyes. The way they glimmered extra bright that night; like starlight. The brunette’s face would soften up when you trace his nose, the curve of pink lips, his lines. Everything about him was breathtakingly dominant.
You’d be a fool to deny.
So, you accept.
-
If Toto were to be told that he had died and ascended to heaven; he wouldn’t second guess the possibility. Because being with you felt exactly like that. Every passing second only adds to the amount of love he bottles up for you. It would overflow and he’d be okay; bring out the next. Oh, that one’s full, too? Okay, next.
All of it made sense. You matched perfectly in sync with him like a cozy glove and he wouldn’t have it any other way. There’d be whispers from others, but he doesn’t care. He’d deal with just about anything for you.
“You’re leaving so soon.” A click. “Have you thought about quitting?”
He can see you grow as stiff as a tree. Your back faces him, but he can still spot your reflection. Of course you looked absolutely lovely, but there was something different about…God. He doesn’t even know what to call it.
“I’m not quitting.”
The Austrians' lips form a thin line; shoes clicking against the floor even more. A boom of lighting fills the room as you flinch. He smiles slowly. “Right—not yet, at least. Not until you move to Monaco.”
More heavy silence. “Sure.”
Now he’s worried. Strolling closer to you, he brushes his warm hand against your shoulder, kissing your exposed skin. “What is it?”
His heart stops when he notices you blinking back tears; bloodshot eyes tracing his tall figure. His first assumption is the most obvious; your mother and Connor. They had probably done something, said something, and now they’ve got you—
“I’m taking the car. See you later.”
He blinks. The cold demeanor was something unusual on your behalf, but leaving without a goodbye kiss was alarming. Toto tries to suppress his feelings with a bottle of scotch, but nothing seems to work. He has to see you.
Gathering his wallet and house keys, he strides out the door before he spots his laptop wide open. As soon as he returned, he would have to answer endless emails, but for now, that wasn’t his priority. Inching closer, he reaches down to slap it shut when his pulse runs cold.
We should think about Jack.
He’s too young to understand anything of what’s going on, Suse.
Let’s just try one last time. I swear I’ll change.
I love you.
He knew instantly; you had read the messages. He had sent them, there's no doubt, but that was so long ago. The date was right there; all before he met you. Before opening up to you. But he doubts you spared enough time to spot the tiny detail. You saw his texts and that’s all; the rest was blocked.
Toto’s palms get sweaty, ears burning red, and heart racing faster than a fucking F1 car. How must you feel? You had made him promise that he wouldn’t hurt you and now this? The confusion was completely explainable, but he had to get to you fast.
It’s as if he owns the place, marching fiercely past the open doors that swing once they spot the Austrian. NDA’s were rather foolish when it comes to him now because he just held that much power. That much respect. But he can’t think of why something feels off. You were hurt, and he felt awful, but no…there’s something else. As if there were an actual wolf lurking deep in the woods; ready to pounce. The hair in the back of his neck stands up, goosebumps forming, and eyes flickering all over the rich club, hoping to find you.
“Hey,” he pants when he spots the familiar redhead. Foxy lives up to her name because her laser glare has him scared for his life. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance before strutting away, a row of men following. The Austrian pushes past them all, pleading just like any other, but for a completely different reason. “Have you seen, Peaches?”
“Yes.”
“Great! Where is she?”
“Around.”
The dancer beams at the group of businessmen who relax against their seat, hunting down without shame. They wore wedding bands, but who cared, right? Toto’s large hand grasps her wrist, tugging her away as she gasps, causing a commotion. He doesn’t care, he just has to find you.
Brown eyes glimmer threateningly but also soft because they’re both aware he needs her, for she only knows where to find you. “Listen, I know she told you what happened, but it was all some misunderstanding! The messages..they were sent to my ex-wife a long time ago. Before any of this, I swear…you have to believe me.”
Foxy narrows her thin brows, digging a sharp nail against his toned chest. “No, you listen—Peaches is one of the sweetest girls I have ever met; she's my other half, so when you hurt her…” A beat. “That’s it. She doesn’t forgive.”
His shoulders drop like an avalanche. “B-but it was a...you don’t mean that.”
The redhead struts away, long legs prancing like a vixen. “Believe me; don’t believe me—I don’t care. Just leave her alone.”
But he can’t do that anymore, he's in too deep. No matter how many times Foxy cursed him to leave, he just wouldn't. He would explain. Even if it were that last thing he did. All's fair after that.
“Mr. Wolff?” A red drink is extended out towards him kindly, to which he shakes his head with a forced smile. If you can even call it that. He’s sure he looks awful, dressed in all black, but it perfectly represented him for who he is and how he was feeling. It’s almost as if he were ready to show up to a funeral.
As time ticks at a snail's pace, he grows more nauseous. There’d be a moment where you see him and he doesn’t know how you would react. Fuck—he doesn’t know how he would, either. To some it may be embarrassing to weep in front of a group of worldly men, but if you looked at him a certain way where he knew it was over? He’d be the first, and without hesitation or shame.
He’s come to recognize your set as fast as a racing strategy. The stage would light up a soft yellow; swallow the room like the early sun. The piano keys would start off slow, taunting, and almost sinister—Yayo. And of course, you’d prance around like a broken angel, wings brushing your hair like his long fingers would.
But this is strange.
He’s too busy analyzing the colorful club when the lights burn black, only the glass box raining a bright red. He doesn’t even recognize it’s you.
The intro isn’t the notorious piano lullabies, but rather scratchy violins. Million Dollar Man slithers across the crowded room like a venomous snake, waiting to strike anyone who doesn’t lay their attention on them.
And this time, you’re no angel, you’re no devil. You’re both. It’s confusing and alarming, but also beautiful and breathtaking. While your dress is cotton white, your makeup is dark and tempting, lips dark red. Your knee socks are tied with a simple ribbon, making men drool like some type of fuckery. You look miserably broken. If anyone were to guess, then they’d say that you’re high off drugs, but that’s not the case. You're high off heartbreak.
And the simple necklace you wear, with his marriage ring attached to it, is a pelluid indication. Even if it was new level petty.
Toto is in such a trance that he doesn’t even feel when a group of hands push him to sit down, eager to have a clear view of their own. They all secretly envy the Austrian when they notice that he had landed himself the best seat in the house without even trying.
So, was it fate to be sitting here, in front of you? Was it fate to have met, then hurt you without the means? The music is almost terrifying, along with your black wings and white halo. All of this is utterly puzzling; was he supposed to be into this, or fear it? Was he supposed to feel his heartbeat in the pit of his stomach, drumming against his ribcage, or was he supposed to be at ease? But most important; would you spare him this time to apologize, or would you kick him out of your life? The last notion scared him the most as he sat like a tired soldier, brown eyes blinking to where you start to seductively twirl.
I don’t know how you convince them and get them. Shiny legs drag behind your delicate figure as your eyes roam the room, sighing with every lustful stare. This is purely pathetic, it didn’t make you feel the way you intended for it to do, but shit. All you wanted to do was flee the state and never look back. But there were too many things tying you back; Foxy, Ro, Rosie…A stinging sensation begins to form behind your orbs and you fiercely blink them away, refusing for the thought of Toto to be what brings you down.
But in a moment like this, what were you supposed to think about? Toto was many things; devilishly, cunningly handsome, tempting, brilliant, intoxicating; but he was also a fucking no-good, professional heartbreaker, a screwed up man who roamed earth without a sense of direction, who truly never deserved to fall in love again, especially with someone was tainted and loyal as you—
But the eyes don't lie. He’s become known by you; someone in your favorite book whom you look for in every page, despite it all. His orbs remind you of your favorite kind of dark chocolate, swirly and dreamy; enough to make you swoon, but they’re filled with more than just that. They’re desperate, as if ready to run endless miles if that's what it took for you to speak to him. They’re loopy, blazing nervously when you spot him, brows knitted with concern.
And he deserves it…you think.
Still, that doesn’t stop your stomach from churning, causing you to panic at the thought of spilling your lunch in front of everyone eyeing the glass box you're hidden behind; it could only ever do so much. Everyone can see your usually tantalizing persona fly out the window, a frail—shattered—girl taking your place.
He’s tricked you. He made you let your guard down, let him in, and then ramshackled you whole; and he hadn’t been nice about it either. How could you have ever thought he would choose you over someone who actually held his kid for nine months? You had seen the messages that sunny morning; birds chirped, flowers bloomed. He had been busy doing God knows what, and when his bright laptop dinged, you couldn’t help but peek. As you once told him; you loved gossip.
Jack is asking if you remember where he last left his stuffed bear? You know, the one with the white spots?
Susie. You had heard a lot about her—you’ve read, a lot, too— she was someone to admire. Helped create a path of perseverance for young girls; it was astonishing. The thought of Jack made you smile, then the bear, then her. Which is why you aimlessly scrolled once, playfully, and then you came to a rude halt.
If someone were to grovel that way for you, you would helplessly fall for it. Fuck, he pratically begged for a second chance. Heat weaved through your body, anger rising, and then falling cruelly with a sense of undeniable ache. You had cried; sobbed. Then you got ready for work.
When he had asked what was wrong, you wanted to stab him with the nearby knife, and the thought scared you half to death. You could tell he was deeply wounded by the cold shoulder, but why the fuck should you care?
Here—in Machiavellian Nights—trapped behind a transparent case, with disgusting men eyefucking you, you realize; there’s no place to run. An attraction is what you are; tourists are what they all represent. Toto’s massive figure swallowed his seat whole, long legs spread open naturally. And you hate it how handsome he looks, dark clouds painting his usually happy eyes. His chest dances up and down, wrestling to catch a breath. The hollers make him flinch in the slightest, grimacing.
The Austrian is apologizing, cryptically. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry. His lips aren't moving, but you can hear his pleads as the music continues.
C’mon! Dance, someone demands from afar, rough hand smacking the glass. Gasping, you purse your lips, continuing. Ignorance is horrible; especially coming from you. The idea of going on without you feel like a nightmare—torture. He tries standing up, and he doesn’t really know what his game plan is exactly in order to get to you, but heads turn and harsh arms force him back down.
It isn’t that hard, boy. To like you, or love you. It was as if you got yanked back into what is truly your reality. You can’t have good things in life. Your father hadn’t died—he had abandoned you. Your mother did too. And Toto…
Toto Wolff was just the same.
You’re glad no one can hear you choking back on tears, you wouldn't dare to fall. But emotions were running high, your throat felt raw, your eyes stung, knees felt wobbly, and it was too much. But aside from your hurt, an eerie feeling hugged your chest, forcing your rib cage to poke you as a warning. You allow yourself to look back up, rapidly scanning the unlit room. Everything was blurry—which didn’t help—but what was it?
You’re no longer focused; your legs sway, your gartner slides down, your nose is starting to get runny, and it was all a mess. Connecting your gaze back to his, you narrow them down like deathly blades. This is all your fault, they scream at him, enraged. If you hadn’t walked into my life, then I wouldn’t be this way.
You’re screwed up and brilliant.
“You fucking ruined me!” Running towards the glass, you violently slap and punch, over and over until you no longer feel any pain. Red bruises form rather quickly and everyone begins to murmur.
Look like a million dollar man.
“I hate you, Toto Wolff!” Muffled whimpers flow like a waterfall as everyone turns to face the fifty-two year old who sits with a hurt expression.
“I can explain,” he pleads, instantly rising up to his scary height and rushing over to where you’re caged. His large hand pathetically grasps it, fingerprints painting the shiny protection between you and him. “Sweetheart…”
So why is my heart broke?
“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”
Chaos ensues; the volcano erupts. It’s suffocating, the way everyone tramples over one another, scattering like lab rats. The yells of terror make his blood run ice cold, swiftly turning around to face the open room. Foxy lets out a scream filled with agony as she crawls over to the stage. Acid slides down her face, makeup running. The other dancers run to hide where the bartender stands with his mouth wide open, orbs flickering with urgency. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he has to get you out of here.
“Open it!” Foxy cries, hands hitting the clear box so forcefully that her nails begin to chip, light gore beginning to slide down. “Open the fucking stage right now!” She lets out a string of pleas, but no one is listening—they can’t even try to with all the loud noise. The alarms go off and that’s what snaps him out of his spot of confusion and what makes her cry and fall back against her arms.
The glass isn’t shattered like in the movies, all over the floor, no. There’s just a singular hole, scratches circling around it—and spikes of blood coloring the crystal clear mirror.
Even with eyes closed, face sticky with tears, and blood spurting out of your mouth and chest, pooling around your angelic body, you were still beautiful. The ring lays flat atop your unbeating heart, shining one last time against the cherry lights. You were gone as soon as the bullet hit, but Toto was the last person you had seen. And you wish you had time to tell him you never meant any of it. You could never hate him; you loved him, you loved him, you loved him.
“I…no. No. No.” Fists punch urgently, cuts finding a place in his pale skin. “Open it!” More pounds. “Let her out! Why is no one letting her out?” Trepidation sleeks over him as he stops his actions, taking a second to look at you. Your dark wings had somehow turned darker, your white dress is now drowned in crimson red, your halo is no longer on your head, and your lively skin is now ghostly pale, almost gray. “Peaches…” His voice quivers so much, he almost doesn't realize it's coming from him. “Get up, sweetheart—come on, just stand.”
His chest tightens when you go unresponding. “T-think about Rosie! She loves you; she needs you. I need you,” he declares, voice cracking. “The text messages are a mishap! I only love you, Peaches, that’s all! I swear I do, I swear it’s you…”
He dreads to turn around and face what was now his life. The music cuts, but the frightful screams continue. Toto blinks back the stingy feeling as he flickers up to make eye contact with who’s responsible for ripping you away from him.
You share the same eyes, but hers are sullen now. Her hair looks as if it could have once been glossy, but is now as dry as the desert. Her lips are nastily chapped, but an uncanny curl slips through as she ticks anxiously when Ro and the rest of the guards hold her without an ounce of remorse, cuffing skinny, needled wrists.
Your mother looks down at the gun, at her daughter, then at Toto. An unhinged stare strikes her impentent face.
“I brought her into this world…I can also take her out.”
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