A/N: Hello, cryptids. I’m Crypt, welcome to the graveyard. (AFAB/She/Her) (Pan baby)
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SERIES
"Night Terrors" (M/NSFW)(Yandere!Batfamily x Reader)(F/M)(REWRITTEN)
Something with the villains, especially Choso, Mahito, Jogo, and Kenjaku would definitely be fun
─Yandere!JJK villains x fem!reader (platonic)
─Summary: Who wouldn't want to spend a nice afternoon with the villains of the day? You, you didn't.
─Warnings: none
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four
The blank pages: Part One / Par Two / Part Three
THE SAND clings insistently to your skin, the sea is crystal clear, and the place feels like an undiscovered paradise, still untouched by humankind, the sun shines so brightly you need to shield your eyes with a hat. You're almost at peace with yourself, mentally detached from your problems with sorcery, as well as from the sorcerers who dragged you into this mess, almost, because you're neither at peace nor alone.
"Did you put on sunscreen? Even if it's a domain, sunburn is serious, the sun can cause skin cancer if you get burned."
You don't even have time to speak before Choso's hands are already covered in sunscreen, carefully spreading it across your face, urging you to continue over the rest of your exposed body, you obey just to breathe away from his suffocating presence, he only leaves you alone, patting you on the head, when he sees you're finished. Luckily, he wants to lie down for a bit too, though he doesn't sunbathe; he just stands there watching the other curses do whatever they want.
How you ended up with the villains is something you barely remember, last night you fell asleep in your bedroom like every other day, you heard Gojo sneak into your room, stroke your head, and leave, then, you simply woke up with Mahito's face way too close to yours, a creepy smile on his face. You tried to headbutt him, but he stopped you with ease, and now you're trapped here, on a beautiful beach surrounded by the very beings who could bring about the end of the world, something you couldn't care less about right now, given your situation. You've thought of a way to escape, but… but you'll leave it for now, it's peaceful enough here, and it's not every day you see such a beautiful scene, you just have to ignore a group of psychopaths, because the "good" group of psychopaths would already be searching high and low for you, and you'd be "home" sooner or later.
"Hey, let's play a game of soccer, wanna join?"
You were going to reject the proposal, determined to ignore the existence of each and every person present, but seeing Mahito use Jogo's head as a ball, well, the game got more interesting, it's not every day you get to kick a cursed creature in the head without consequences, so you didn't pass up the opportunity. Oh, if only you could do the same to Gojo, you'd become Messi just to kick his skull. Perhaps it was the first time you smiled in a while, a sincere and wicked smile, satisfied to see the physical suffering of the volcano-headed curse. Kenjaku delighted in the scene, joining in the indirect beating of Jogo, you only stopped when Hanami arrived with some cocktails, which you refused, just in case, being in a good mood for a moment didn't mean you had placed enough trust in these lunatics; you stayed far enough away so that Jogo's outbursts of anger wouldn't burn you, far enough away so that Mahito couldn't turn you into a freak, far enough away so that you didn't see the creepy smile on Geto's body.
You had the same feeling, the same sensation, different people, Choso and Mahito were like Nobara and Yuji, oblivious to your personal space, squeezing your arm or simply standing shoulder to shoulder to be close, Kenjaku and Hanami were more like Megumi, just observing from afar, taking the initiative to talk to you a little, too curious about your strange ability to exorcise curses, and Jogo was simply there, like an annoying voice in your head, complaining about this and that. Honestly, you'd rather be with the volcano head because he seemed to hate your existence as much as you hated yourself, he wasn't happy with your presence, and you weren't happy to be with them either, common goals make friends, right? Maybe he's your key to getting out of here, with luck, you can escape before the Jujutsu students arrive, and in all the chaos, you can slip away. Dreaming is free, at least.
"Show me your cards."
You frowned at Mahito, who leaned toward you, brushing his hair against your face, you stepped back slightly, shifting your cards so he couldn't see them, there was no way you were going to let him win a single game of Uno, even though it wasn't like you were winning, you'd promised that if you lost, he would too.
"Don't cheat."
Kenjaku smiled, taking advantage of your shifting cards to look at them, it was too late for you to do anything, you resigned yourself to letting him know the power you held, mentally vowing to declare war on him too, just for being annoying.
"Uno, Uno!"
"No way, where did you hide the cards? Did you burn them?"
Chaos soon shattered the afternoon's tranquility, accusations flying back and forth, you closed your eyes, absorbing the grating shouts to expel them from your ears. You laid the cards face down on the sand, declaring that you'd had enough games for today, enough friendly threats from Mahito, enough worries from Choso, enough prying eyes from Kenjaku, and enough threats from Jogo. You wanted to sleep a little, just a little, hopefully long enough to return to your hateful room at the Jujutsu Institute, alongside your hateful classmates and teacher. If only sleeping and waking up could make you appear somewhere else, far from both sides…
You should learn to keep your big mouth shut, or at least not to think, you wish you couldn't think, but hatred still keeps you healthy enough for your mind to start twisting, you're not quite screwed enough yet for the situation to overwhelm you, and here you are now, "I wish I could be somewhere where I can't see either side", well, screw you, and your life of conveniently convenient events.
"Did you miss me? It's normal, subconsciously you know I'm the only one who will emerge victorious from this whole war between sorcerers and curses."
"Fuck you, Sukuna, I'm not in the mood for your royal airs, seriously, rip my heart out so I can return to the damn reality and escape those lunatics."
"No, I don't feel like it, I'm bored here all alone, where are you? Yuji's really paranoid, and it's getting to me, you know, it's really annoying."
"What a shame, poor thing."
You look at each other in silence, your eyes lifeless, but with a hint of amusement, the annoyance of the others was starting to amuse you. The despair and unease that might have once caused you anguish had become your source of entertainment, at least with all these lunatics, you hadn't become a maniac who enjoyed making any random kid cry, but rather all those who had condemned and chained you to this miserable life. You lost your sense of compassion, and mixed with the despair of the situation, your cynicism grew exponentially this past month.
"Stop being rude to your elders, if it were up to me—"
"I'd be dead? I know, I already told you the first time we met, I'd be grateful."
"Brat… do you think you're funny? Do you think you're untouchable? Just because that useless Gojo has taken a fancy to you doesn't mean you're safe."
"I know, I'm just testing the limits of my 'freedom', it's fun, really, the only thing that lets me sleep is ruining all your lives."
"Why are you blaming me for your miserable life?"
"Because you're there too, like a shadow, oblivious, don't think I don't see you talking to Yuji about me, I don't know what you're up to, but you're not exempt from blame for all the crap that's happening to me."
Sukuna watched you for a few moments in silence, hiding his smile with one hand, completely amused by your reaction, his eyes widened as he began to laugh, as if he were the richest man on the planet. He had been so calm, thinking you were oblivious to everything around you, as broken as a porcelain doll that had fallen from a high shelf, but no, you still have one eye open, waiting for an escape, an opportunity, something to finally collapse so you can leave this whole world behind and hold on to what little normalcy remains in your current life.
"And here I was thinking you were a stupid puppet at this point."
You frowned at his words, you were about to argue with him, to show that your consciousness was still very pale, but your thoughts went numb as did your body, you felt as if a greater force moved you from the spot, regaining consciousness, you met the worried gaze of Choso, who had woken you up and taken you out of the mental domain where Sukuna was imprisoned.
"Are you okay? I got worried because you weren't getting up, we were going to get something to eat, and I thought you wanted to… were you really tired? I'm sorry, I can let you go back to sleep, but you should eat something."
You barely registered what he said, too dazed by the sudden change of scenery, you nodded automatically, just to show that you were lostening, but he took it as a direct affirmation, before you could correct your assumptions, he dragged you along. You went through a door in the middle of the beach and were suddenly in a bar, none of the people there noticed your strange entrance, you wish you could be ignored like that every day. Choso sat you down next to him, between himself and Kenjaku, who was silently watching you with that unsettling smile, he talked to you for a while as the food was being prepared, but you tried to ignore him like he was an annoying fly, which made a vein pop out on his forehead. Perhaps if you provoked him too much, the stitches on his forehead would burst and the top half of his head would fall off.
Mahito was fighting for your attention like a child who'd had his favorite toy taken away, being tortured by having it so close but not being able to play with it. He kicked you under the table, which you kicked back harder, hoping he'd stop, you only amused him more with your irritation, only Kenjaku could make you behave like a father fed up with his children's nonsense, just as the food arrived so you wouldn't look like a lunatic, since, to everyone else there, it was just you and Geto's body at the table. The waitress looked at you with concern and doubt at the excessive amount of food for two people, and you were about to gesture for her help with your hand, but Kenjaku subtly slapped your hand away as if he were swatting a fly.
"Behave yourself or you won't get dessert."
You glanced at him sideways, slowly lowering your hand, silently examining the food, it was your favorite meal; it looked too good, and you forced yourself not to feel embarrassed when your stomach growled like an untamed monster. With your head down, you silently cursed how good the food looked, but you didn't break your act.
"Screw you, and your dessert."
As if you hadn't cursed everyone at the table —instead of blessing it— you ate, savoring each bite, ignoring the lively chatter among the villains, the unbearable heat radiating from Jogo, the soft hum of Hanami and Kenjaku's conversation, Choso's piercing gaze upon your soul, as if he feared the silverware might come to life and stab you, and Mahito's mischievous stare, waiting for any moment to annoy you, pinch your cheek, or kick your feet under the table again. You almost seemed like a family, a dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless, with a father like Kenjaku, a mother Hanami, an older brother Choso, little Mahito, the dog Jogo, and you, the middle child, unfortunately, and not following the usual pattern, all of them far too aware of your existence when you should normally be the most forgotten.
Oh, how you long to be a nobody, a forgotten soul, left to its own devices in the vast world, just another person without direction or purpose, someone simple, uncomplicated, without curses, sorcerers, or obsessions. How you wish all these undesirables would end up killing each other, so that at the end of the day, only you would remain, you and no one else, neither good nor bad, nor neutral, just silence and tranquility, without people constantly watching, stalking, observing your every step, your every breath. If only you could turn back time, pretend not to see curses… you need to find a hobby, or you'll descend into madness, you want to end this, you want to end them. All of them.
"Do you want dessert? You've earned it, you're behaving quite well, more docile than I thought you'd be."
You watch silently, a slight twitch in your eye at the sight of that smile again, everything about him is creepy; the fact that he's using someone else's body makes you want to vomit. You smile back sarcastically, gripping the fork in your trembling dominant hand, trying to control yourself from stabbing him right there in the eye.
"Okay."
The dessert will end up being his head if the 'good' lunatics don't get you out of here soon.
Anonymous said: So I saw this quote today and I was wondering if you do a Dean/reader oneshot based off it? “You don’t know you’ve fallen for someone until after it happens.”
Anonymous said: Hi! First off, I’m addicted to your writing, it’s so good! I was wondering if you could do one where the reader confesses her love to Dean and he doesn’t feel the same way, but after a few weeks/months he starts to fall for her? Whether or not the reader takes him at the end is up to you :) Thank you so much! <3
@-sidetracked- said: Can we make this like, a dean story please where like dean is in love with the reader and he isn’t supposed to be so he tried to forget like all the memories and stuff but she still comes around for Sam and cas and Charlie so he can’t and it’s really hard for him
A/N: yup, it’s here. Um, it’s been quite a few years. Every New Year’s, I’d make the resolution to finish this up – the plot line was written ten years ago when I first started it. At some point, the pressure of following through with that plot line and making it work became too big. Also, turns out I have ADHD, so coincidentally, now that I’m on meds and decided to just start writing, I was able to get it done. Funny how that works. It may be changing slightly from what I planned so long ago, but still following the same beats. Also, keep in mind that this takes place in some fuzzy time between seasons 8-10, as the rest had not come out yet. Here you go!
Word count: 2,237
Pairing: Dean x reader
Warnings: swearing, drinking (mentions)
“Let Go” series: Part I, II, III, IV, V, VI, Masterlist with more
Theme songs: Riptide, Can’t Help Falling in Love
“Let Go” Series Spotify Playlist
——
The tension between you and Dean had not dissipated the next day. If anything, it was worse.
When you first walked into the kitchen, your mind was set on making up, maybe apologizing again for not being able to communicate the previous day, and then worry about who would take the last bagel. But it was immediately clear that Dean had other intentions.
A bagel laid on his plate, already half-eaten.
“Morning,” you said quietly, trying to keep your voice neutral as you moved toward the coffee pot.
“Morning,” Dean replied evenly, not looking away from his newspaper.
You pretended to take your time picking out a coffee mug from the collection sitting on the open metal shelf, trying to slow down your quickening heartbeat. The air, the room, everything about the moment just felt wrong. Finally, out of time you could realistically spend feigning interest in ceramics, you settled on a faded, red Christmas mug and took an extra minute to make your coffee.
Dean flipped a page as you sat down in front of him, only looking away for a second to take another bite of his bagel. However, as you sipped coffee and looked from his newspaper to the rest of the kitchen, to him, to the newspaper again, and once more to him, you noticed that his eyes did not appear to have moved at all. In that moment, he looked up.
“What’s up?” he asked. How he was able to keep his voice so devoid of emotion was a mystery to you.
“Oh, nothing,” you said, quickly glancing down again. “You know, just looking at your newspaper… wondering what to eat for breakfast, the usual.”
If he knew that was a dig at him, he didn’t show it. But you knew different – the Last Bagel Fight was a common occurrence between you and Dean in the bunker. Usually, it was avoided by Sam keeping a close inventory on all bagels within the kitchen, but when he slipped, all mayhem would ensue. In the past, Dean would have waited for you with a full, uneaten bagel, wished you luck, and then play-wrestled you all around the bunker for it. In the past, Dean had always let you win, and you would mockingly take a bite before splitting it with him.
This was him being petty.
“There’s some cereal still, and I think Sam mentioned there was fruit in the fridge,” Dean replied with a tight smile.
“Hmm,” you hummed. Knowing the answer, you asked, “any more bagels?”
“Oh, I think this was the last one, sorry,” Dean shrugged. An awkward pause followed his words, as if he were waiting for your reaction.
Then you understood – this was Dean. He was not going to bring up the issues from last night because that would be admitting that either he was wrong, or that he still doubted your cover story. Of course, he would have been correct if he called you out on it, and you weren’t sure that you’d be able to outright lie two days in a row, not to the same green eyes you had confessed your love to months ago in that hospital room.
If you reacted first, you would crumble before you got too far.
“No worries, actually,” you registered the tiny upwards motion of Dean’s eyebrows as you smiled brightly, “I think I might go out for breakfast.”
The conversation stalled then, with Dean’s eyes still focused on you as you pulled your phone out of your pocket and started typing. You hoped the offer from last night was still on the table.
Neal’s last text message read: Breakfast tomorrow?
In the simmering aftermath of the argument, between tossing off your jacket back in your closet, brushing your teeth angrily, and thinking, why does he care? and who is he to judge my drinking?, you had slowly been replying to Neal. He made sure you got back home okay – you did. He sent a picture of Creek – he was adorable and so well-behaved. He sent flirty texts about how much he enjoyed meeting with you… you replied in tandem, flirting back despite the ache in your chest.
The last text had not gone unanswered because you were asleep, but because once you saw it come through, it felt too real. One date was good. You could even write off the kiss; you had certainly done more with different guys when you first started hunting with the Winchesters, but a second date? A second date meant some sort of commitment, even if it was casual. You’d once lain in bed thinking that maybe that kind of commitment between you and Dean could be possible. Before the witch, before the injury, before the confession – that spot had been reserved for Dean. For some reason, it felt wrong to just let go of your old daydreams.
You shook your head the night before, scoffing at the idiocy in your thoughts when Dean had made his intentions clear. But even then, you left the text technically unseen and unanswered as you rolled over, away from the phone, and eventually fell asleep.
Now, with Dean’s challenging attitude in the air, you gave in.
I’d love to see you again and have breakfast if you’re still available! So sorry, I fell asleep pretty quickly last night.
Almost immediately, three little bubbles popped up on your screen. Neal’s reply was concise: Great! Meet up at Maggie’s Diner at 10?
A small blush crept over your cheeks as you considered the possibility that Neal had been waiting for your answer all morning. You didn’t notice. Dean did.
“Well, I actually wouldn’t mind sharing,” he mumbled gruffly, “I don’t want to make you go all the way to town just to get some grub.”
“That’s quite alright,” you said, glancing up at him but then going straight back to typing. “I’ve been wanting to try out a place anyways, and I can grab more bagels on the way back. Do you mind if I borrow the car?”
“You’re not usually one to eat alone.”
He was right.
“I’m a big girl, I can handle a menu. Plus, Soo-jin might meet me there.”
Technically not a lie, there was a slight chance she could be there at the same time as you. You stood up and left the now-empty coffee mug in the sink, a problem for later. As you came back around the table, hand outstretched for the keys, Dean folded his newspaper and motioned to stand up.
“Okay, okay, you don’t have to beg, I’ll go with you,” he joked, giving you the first smile of the day. “I could always use a second breakfast.”
You hoped he missed the momentary panic in your eyes as you racked your brain for an excuse. Thankfully, the calendar on the bulletin board caught your eye. It was a firefighter calendar gifted to Sam, courtesy of Dean, and hung up by you when you realized nobody else had one. Way under the chiseled abs of a shirtless firefighter, a note had been written on April 27th – “Dean doc. appt 10:30 online”.
“Sorry, handsome,” you sighed, hand quickly moving under his chin and turning his head toward the calendar. Dean, frozen halfway through standing up, squinted at the writing. “Doctor Turner is booked out for months, and he’s supposed to give you the last of your meds.”
You let go of his chin, ignoring the slight tremble of your hand as you realized it had been weeks since you had been that close to him. The warmth of his face and the prickly texture of his facial hair echoed on your fingertips.
“Fine,” Dean replied quietly, turning back to his paper and handing out the keys from his back pocket to you.
His willingness was surprising – you had expected he would put more of a fight to come with, even if it meant doing his appointment at a crowded diner, one headphone on as he rattled an order to a server and then apologized to the doctor on his phone’s screen. But it was better to take your escape before it was too late, so you grabbed the keys, uttered a quiet, “thank you,” and left the kitchen.
By the time Dean came out to the library, you were gone.
——
“You ate the fucking bagel?” Sam asked incredulously as he stared at Dean, mouth hanging open.
He had come out from his room later than usual and happily ate some cereal and strawberries before he noticed the empty bagel bag in the trash can. He'd frowned, wondering if he slept through the Last Bagel Fight that had obviously occurred, and then remembered the argument from the night before. That’s when he found Dean sulking in the library.
“So what? And I offered to share with her anyways!”
“Yeah, after you acted like a petty child and ate three quarters of the thing! I told you to apologize last night, not slap her,” Sam huffed, bringing two fingers to the middle-ground between his eyebrows, massaging.
“Oh, come on,” Dean scoffed, “you’re making a way bigger deal of it than it is.”
Dean knew that he was wrong, and petty, and had metaphorically slapped the tradition you two set, but he wasn’t going to admit that. Not when he had bigger issues, like trying to ignore the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking of your touch on his face earlier, a flowery scent still lingering in his memory.
“And I was not going to apologize when you know I’m right, she should have been more responsible when she went out!” he continued. “Plus, I still don’t think she went out with Soo-jin! If she’s lying about that, what else could she be doing?”
“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Maybe if you knew how to sit down and have a conversation like an adult, you’d figure it out.”
Before Dean could snap at him, he added, “What’s going on with you lately? You never made a stink when Y/N went out before.”
“That was different,” Dean said, irritated, looking away. I was different.
“How?”
“It just was.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Sam said. “You know it wasn’t, so why? What’s changed?”
Dean wasn’t sure what Sam saw when he looked at him; maybe it was the redness itching up from his neck to his cheeks, the strain around his eyes as he stared back up at his younger brother, or a tension in his shoulders unlike that of his injury. Maybe it was not about seeing anything at all, not after all they had been through. He just knew him.
“Oh… oh, shit. You like her.” It wasn’t a question.
Sam’s anger instantly vanished, replaced by a quiet shock. Dean knew you would have laughed at the way Sam’s eyebrows sat higher than ever on his forehead, but he couldn’t find it funny now.
“Yeah,” Dean replied dryly. “That’s what’s changed.”
After a brief reset period, Sam smiled.
“But…that’s good, isn’t it? She likes you, you like her, what’s not to, well, like about that?”
“Correction: she liked me. You remember the club night as much as I do, she was practically throwing herself at that asshole,” Dean said.
He had felt hope the previous night as he realized that you might still be in love with him. He’d woken up determined to confront the argument, his doubts about your night out, and his feelings for you in a calm, rational manner. But, with one cup of coffee already downed and waiting for you to wake up, Dean remembered that night from weeks ago. The way you hung off the arms of that stranger as he walked you back over to the brothers, a strap of your top almost falling off your shoulder and down your arm, lipstick slightly smeared… the memory made his heart drop.
“He was nice enough to find us at least,” Sam shrugged. “He could have taken her home, given how drunk she was. Anyways, I’m sure it didn’t mean anything, she was out of it.”
“It’s one thing to be drunk, it's another to be so – so touchy,” Dean spat with a pang to his chest. “Thank god he didn’t get her number.”
“Well, he wrote his number on her hand,” Sam chuckled. “She must have been so confused the next morning.”
“He did what?” Dean thought the world turned upside down for a second. Suddenly, the shiftiness of the previous day, the way you started texting this morning, and that blush he saw – it all made sense.
“He wrote his number on her hand,” Sam repeated. “Pretty sloppily, I’d say.”
Dean’s next words were interrupted by the screeching of a door. You bounced down the steps of the front stairs, noticeably happier than how he remembered you leaving. Your smile, however, wavered as Sam and Dean looked up at you.
“Hey guys,” you were cautious as you spoke, “what’s going on?”
“Just talking about the last meds I got.” Dean’s cover was smooth. He smiled as you walked over and handed him back the keys to the Impala. “Nice breakfast?”
“Yeah, oh, and look,” you said, lifting up the bag of bagels in your hand. “For tomorrow morning.”
The tension was gone, for now.
Dean gave you one last smile as you made your way to the kitchen, but when he turned back to Sam, he sank into a chair and ran a hand over his face.
Sam didn’t need to say anything else. He simply gave his brother a sympathetic slap on the (good) shoulder as he also walked out the library.
Both of them could smell the fading cologne that followed your steps.
[ Masterlist - Part One: Bringin' Home the Rain ] ❤️ -> [ Masterlist - Part Two: Salvation is a Deep Dark Well ]
Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther
Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F! Reader
Word count: 11.5 K
Chapters: 5/7
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Back in your hotel room you're quickly reminded of the intensity of what Klaue is always so willing to make you feel, and with new admissions and new limits pushed you find yourself slipping further and further into something you're not sure you ever want to let go of.
Warnings: Explicit!, Moderate Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Klaue is 50, Use of Pet Names, Smut, So Much Smut, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Hotel Sex, Dom/Sub Dynamic, Needy Dom, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering/Finger Fucking, Mirror Sex, Brief Finger Sucking, Unprotected PIV, Creampie, Impact Play, Spanking as Positive Reinforcement, Reference to Exhibitionism, Multiple Orgasms (both), Cum Marking, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), Eating it From Behind, Cum Eating, Comfort, Dom Drop, Aftercare, Yet More Feelings, A Smidge of Somno if you Squint, These Two are Idiots, Slow Burn But They're Fucking the Whole Time, How Many Ways Can I Get Them to Say I Love You Without Actually Saying I Love You Before I Explode
A/N: Okaaaay here we go! This has been a long time coming, not just in the actual writing (lol), but it's been in some state of being drafted since before I published the last chapter of part one and I have been so excited to get here, and I'm glad that I finally have even with all the struggles in the interim.
And I really do want to genuinely thank everyone who's followed along for the ride, and especially those who have supported and encouraged me even when my brain was being rude, honestly I don't know that I would have gotten here without you. 🥹💕
There's lots more to come and I'm excited to work on it and share it with you, but for now I hope that you enjoy this chapter!
AO3 Link
Chapter title is from "Veins" by Palace
You're mine, my northern star
Lighten up the days and show me the way
Flood my veins, flood my veins
Flood my veins, my veins
The moment the world is locked outside the suite door your fingers are around Klaue’s tie and he's letting you tug it until he has you crowded against the wall of the entranceway, and then you're quickly grabbing one of his hands and guiding it once again beneath your dress until it's pressed against the slick heat of your center.
But just as your eyes slip closed in relief at that sweet pressure he pulls out of your grip, and ignoring your protests he takes your wrists and roughly tugs them above your head, both of your hands now easily pinned in one of his and leaving you unable to do more than whine and writhe between his body and the wall. His free hand cups your jaw, a quick flash of hunger moving across his eyes before he silences your pleading with his mouth, finally kissing you the way he’d really wanted to when you’d first appeared in front of him like a vision - deep and devouring.
Instinctively you attempt to hook your knee around his hip but he's leaning into you, the stiff press of his erection against your hip an infuriating tease as he keeps his body flush against yours, the broad weight of him forcing your leg back down.
“None of that,” he admonishes, mouth dropping down to lick a broad stripe along the column of your neck.
He has you nearly beside yourself with want, intensely aware of every inch of contact with Klaue's body, the drag of his beard igniting your nerves, the musk of his sweat-damp skin mingling with earthy notes of cologne, all of it filling your senses with every panted breath.
Your fingers flex and curl helplessly in his grip while his mouth continues it's roaming conquest of your neck, tugging - testing - and when his fingers tighten in response you're already moaning, so you think that maybe he doesn't notice the sound shift a little deeper in your chest. But then you tug just a bit harder and his fist tightens to the edge of bruising, grinning against your skin and letting you struggle as you twist your wrists in his grasp for a moment longer before you relent, giddiness not hidden in your huffed sigh of frustration.
“Please, want you-” you start but then he's kissing you again, and there's still need there but it's slower this time as he allows himself a moment to savour you now that you're finally, properly alone. His tongue urges your mouth open and your mind goes hazy at the soft, low sounds he's making as he slides his lips against yours until you’re growing lightheaded.
You need to take a breath but you also don’t want him to stop kissing you, but you're also so desperate for his touch between your legs that you can no longer control how much you're trembling and you're using the wall as leverage to roll your hips against the ridge of his cock as best you can, but then suddenly gravity is pulling your hands back toward the earth, your chin tipping to chase his mouth even as you gasp a breath as he pulls away, and you make a plaintive sound as cool air fills the empty space where he'd just been.
“So impatient," he says, a crooked smile playing across his lips as he turns away.
You're left disoriented, sagging against the wall you as you watch him drop his coat, that cocky swagger of his hips taunting you as he walks past the kitchen and then disappears down the hallway while loosening the knot from his tie.
“And you..are infuriating!” you call after him breathlessly, certain that you hear a low chuckle floating back to you in response. Quickly you remove your shoes, coat shrugged from your shoulders and left to lie where it drops next to his, adding to the trail of anticipation as you pad barefoot after him.
“Come over here, darling,” he says when you step into the warm light of the bedroom, glancing up at you briefly from where he stands next to the bed. He's also barefoot now as he works the buttons of his untucked shirt, waistcoat already discarded along with the tie.
But you don't, staying where you are you instead reach up to tug at the hidden zipper in the side of your dress. Not taking your eyes from him you lick your lips as you watch his shoulders flex when he shrugs off his shirt, and as your dress loosens you let your arms drop, allowing the velvet to slip down your body to pool around your feet.
Adorned now only in filaments of gold that frame your breasts and encircle your waist, you take a steadying breath and wait.
When he does turn back to you, bare-chested and looking ready to chastise you for not listening he goes still instead, whatever words he was about to say trail off as his mouth drops open, hands falling to his sides.
Time seems to hover around you as he takes in the sight of you standing naked before him, several things appearing to war all at once behind eyes that slide hungrily over your body. For a several moments his features tighten to an almost pained expression that finally breaks with the release of a slow, shuddering sigh.
“You know…don't you?” He asks quietly.
You’re weren't expecting a question, and you’re not sure how to answer. Blinking, you try to think just what he might mean for you to know, but before you can come up with anything he’s moving to where you're still standing inside the velvet circle of your dress.
He almost seems to be under a spell as he reaches for you, one hand drawn slowly as though following an invisible thread that connects him to you. Fingers ghost over the strand of gold that lies along your collarbone, raising gooseflesh along their path as they trail down over bare skin and the delicate crystals that adorn you.
“Know what?” You finally ask, your voice barely a whisper, breath hitching when a fingertip gently traces the sensitive outer curve of your breast.
His hand then drops, both now resting on your hips as a stillness settles through his body, the crystal blue eyes that find yours sharp and insistent.
Certain.
“That I'm yours.”
Your lips part, breath stolen as something bright lodges in your throat, something that feels a little too close to the ache of tears threatening to well up.
“And I don’t just mean tonight,” he continues, “I need more than that. I need you to know that I’m yours every night, even when I’m not with you.”
Your hands reach up to curl around his neck, the firm muscles flexing beneath your fingers. Your eyes shine as you meet his gaze.
“Ulysses, I…I need you to know that, too,” you reply softly. “I’m always yours.”
"That right?" Klaue murmurs, the words whispered rough against your lips as he leans in close, yet there's a note of relief beneath them.
Your admission has sent a fresh surge of tension between you, the moment of stillness quickly dissipating as you feel that ever-present flame of need flaring bright again as he grips you tighter, your nipples peaked and sensitive as they brush his chest.
“Then let me make up for every second you’ve been out of my sight.” he says, a shiver rippling through you when soft lips press against the top of your shoulder, and you give a hum of approval at the reflexive rock of his hips against you. “For every time I needed you but couldn’t have you beneath me, moaning my name.”
"I'd like that, Ulysses,” you smile with a sigh against the shell of his ear.
You hadn't even realized that he'd been guiding you towards the bed until he gives you a gentle push and you're tipping back, laughing in surprise as you land with a bounce.
Your knees fall easily open, looking up at him with a coy grin as he quickly strips down to just boxers, and now you can see his cock straining against the black fabric, thick and tantalizingly close. You flash back to how badly you’d wanted to touch him in the car and now he’s right here in front of you, but when you raise your hand he steps back out of reach just as your fingertips brush the stiff ridge of him.
“Hey..” you pout, but then your eyebrows go up and you're now watching with curiosity as Klaue moves to the foot of the bed and starts pulling the bench over to where you’re sitting, automatically lifting your legs as he adjusts it until you’re comfortably resting your feet on top of it.
You’re still not quite sure of his intention and you don’t hide your perplexed expression as he straightens back up, eyeing his work - if he’d wanted you in this position he could have just had you sit on the end of the bed where the bench had already been.
“Umm, what are you..?” you start to ask with narrowed eyes but he doesn’t answer, instead giving you a knowing look as he walks over to the closet.
And then suddenly you do understand when he starts to close the doors that you had left ajar earlier.
Your legs snap shut when the mirror begins to expose your naked form on the bed, your skin warming as you try to avoid the surprised expression that's currently reflected back at you.
“Now, darling..” Klaue tilts his head, not taking his eyes off of you as he slowly closes the other door. “You’re not hiding from me, are you?”
“No, I'm not,” you quickly reply but you can feel yourself growing hotter as your fingers dig into the sheets on either side of your legs, shoulders curling inwards as you try to keep him the center of your focus and your own reflection in your peripheral.
"Come now, let me see how wet you are,” he coaxes, voice going rough as he palms himself through his boxers.
You watch as his fingers slide along the thick curve of his shaft, making the outline agonizingly distinct, and you lick your lips when you realize that even from where you're sitting you can see the spot where precum has dampened the dark fabric.
“You could come back over here and find out for your-” you retort, but your voice falters when he hooks his thumbs into the waistband, finally tugging them down and off.
You're unable to help the pained sound you make as you watch the heavy length of his cock hanging between his thighs, every inch of you prickling with heat as your legs nudge open just for just a moment in response to the sight of it, the head already invitingly flushed and shining.
Just that slight twitch of your muscles draws his gaze down as his hand wraps around his cock, the tip of his tongue captured between his teeth.
"As if I didn't know you're already soaked, Mot," he says with a slow grin, a shudder working through him as his eyes drag upward to fix on the peek of hair at the crux of your thighs.
Your breathing grows shallow as he makes his way back over to where you're still sitting frozen on the edge of the bed but your legs are pressed stubbornly back together once again, any inclination to relent tucked away with the hidden prize of your aching center. You do relax a little when his body briefly blocks the view of your wide-eyed reflection but your relief is short lived when instead of kneeling like you'd half expected he makes his way onto the bed, moving around to position himself behind you.
Broad thighs bracket yours as he settles into place and you swallow a moan when you feel the heat of his erection pressing against your lower back. But although you desperately want to look at him, to appreciate the way that his chest and shoulders are framing yours, you can’t quite bring your eyes up - because that would mean looking at yourself, too.
So instead you let your eyes slip fully closed for a moment, focusing on his breath that's warm against your neck, on the friction of the hair on his chest and belly where he’s connected to you as calloused hands run slowly over your skin.
For now he doesn't say anything, he simply waits patiently.
But you can feel his eyes on you, just as tangible as the firm heat of his body, and despite your hesitance it’s not long before you can no longer resist the pull of his gaze, biting your lip when you finally dare to peek at his pleased expression.
“There you are.” Klaue purrs with a weighted look.
Positioned like this you can’t hide the way your breath hitches when his hands start to move down over your hips and then along the tops of your legs, your muscles quivering when fingers tease into the seam between them. Squeezing harder at least grants you some relief from the unsatisfied need that's overwhelming you more with every passing moment, but even as the ache in your core grows nearly impossible to bear your knees stay firmly together.
“Show me,” he urges, an edge of desperation colouring his words now and you're growing giddy with desire, his touch encouraging you closer to the edge of giving in - of giving him everything.
“Ulysses..” His name comes out on a breathy whine, still clinging to the last of your willpower even though you're sure he isn't going to let you hold out much longer.
“Don't- don't you want to be good for me?” His voice falters for a moment when the swell of your ass rocks back against his leaking cock.
You let out a sound of bemused agony as your eyes follow the hands that are now sliding up over your stomach to cup your breasts, the fine gold chain set off by the tan skin of Klaue’s arms and hands as he caresses you. He's still moving slowly, teasingly - allowing you to watch the way your hips twitch, the way your lips part with a gasp when thumbs brush over your peaked nipples.
“Hmm?” he rumbles expectantly.
“Want to..” Your trembling voice is barely more than a whisper although your eyes are bright, even you can see that as they flick between his face and his hands that have dropped back down to rest on the tops of your thighs again, so close to where you need them, where you could have them if you'd just…
"I know you do, just relax for me," he soothes, the last of your resistance drawn out of you through warm fingertips as you let yourself sink back into him, softening until your legs begin to ease open, slowly.
“Ohh, just like that." His warm hum of approval swirls immediately to where you're now throbbing. “I want you to see yourself the way that I get to see you.”
Your eyes snap to his at that, the glinting facets of a sharp, focused sapphire reflected back at you.
He shifts back a bit tugging you with him, giving you a little more space on the bed and more leverage to plant your feet, his eyes growing heavy with hunger as your glistening sex is finally revealed to him.
“God,” he lets out a rough sigh, strong fingers dimpling your thighs as though he needs you to keep himself steady. “Love the way you look when you’re desperate for me to touch you.”
As he speaks one hand moves between your legs until the vee of his fingers frames your cleft, and you whimper as even that indirect pressure encourages your legs to open further with a little roll of your hips. Mesmerized by the sight of you so wet and eager for him he reverently parts you, and then slowly those clever fingers begin to slide down through your folds, an aching heat flooding your belly as everything clenches tight at his touch.
His low moan echoes yours as he dips down to tease at your soaked entrance before dragging back up, your hips stuttering when a now slick finger slips over your clit once, and then again, and though he’s only just teasing at your aching bundle of nerves you’re already panting with need.
“Now, let me show you how pretty you look when you make a mess for me.”
And then he's sinking his middle two fingers all the way into you and all you can do is arch against him as you let out a wavering moan that surprises you, a feral sound that's a combination of frustration and abject arousal after having been touched and teased through the night, brought to the edge and then tugged back.
“Look at you.” Klaue purrs against your ear, the muscles of his forearm flexing with the rhythm of his fingers as they curl deep inside of you. “You look like you want to come, darling.”
You can only nod, nearly on the verge of tears because you're close again, you're already so fucking close and if he would just keep touching you right there-
“You're sure?” He asks, sounding sweetly, infuriatingly inquisitive.
"Oh my god yes, yes.." The wet sounds between your legs fill the room as you grind against his hand, fingers still buried deep.
“Then I don't think I need to tell you what you should be doing, hmm?" His grin is a heated challenge as you throb helplessly around his fingers.
“That what you want, Ulysses?” you pant, those demanding eyes darkening as your hips move more insistently. “Want to watch me come all over your hand?”
“Christ,” he grits between clenched teeth, the word both a curse and a plea. “Yes, that’s what I fucking want.”
Adjusting your hips you manage to take his fingers a bit deeper, but it still doesn't feel like enough.
"Then make me," you say, surprised by the demanding tone of your words, and a look of desperation briefly flashes across his face showing you how close he is to relenting. But unfortunately he's not going to let you have more just yet - you know he's going to make you to take it, first.
So inhaling a steadying breath you brace one hand against his thigh, the other reaching up to slide around his neck and any thought or shred of self-consciousness that you’ve had tonight is now gone as you begin to move with purpose, chasing the pleasure that's been building not just since the car, but since he’d first kissed you in the museum.
You're completely spread open now, no longer curled in and hiding but open for him, panting as your gaze stays fixed on the sight Klaue’s large, tattooed hand between your legs, his thick fingers disappearing into you every time you plunge your hips down.
It's not long before your eyes begin to go glassy as you slip from awareness, the animal part of you caring for nothing but that exquisite, coiling heat as your climax swells up and up and up, and as your muscles begin to tighten you feel him finally start to match your movements, thrusting his fingers deeper to meet the cadence of your need.
His other arm is wrapped around your waist, allowing that hand to splay across your inner thigh where it stays braced so that his thumb can nudge against your clit as you move, soft praises falling from his lips as your movements grow rough and desperate, your senses narrowing down to a bright point.
“Make me come Ulysses please, please don't stop, don’t stop-”
“Not stopping,” he growls as your broken gasps meet his ears with every crook of his fingers. “Come for me, my beautiful girl. Show me..”
Your thighs shake, every muscle tensing as the brush of his thumb over your clit goes rough, your breath caught in your chest as you hover above pleasure for an impossibly long moment until in a fractured second it surges through you, barely hearing your own choked cry of relief as you finally come apart.
But he hears it, and it's everything, the broad warmth of him enveloping you as you arch back into his chest with eyes squeezed shut, your head pressed against his shoulder as everything falls away. A silver mist floats at the edge of your vision as your body shudders and jerks through each wave, and when after several long moments your eyes blink open again you see that his are closed as he nuzzles his rough cheek against your neck.
Still he holds you tight as you soften, his hand shining palm to wrist with your release, and even once you've collapsed completely against him he seems unable to resist a slow thrust of his fingers into your dripping hole, enraptured by the mewling sounds he's teasing from you as the fading pulses of your orgasm flutter around them.
“That’s it, Mot. That's exactly what I needed." Klaue sighs, eyes opening to fix on you again, almost as if this - as if you - were the only thing he needs. As if your pleasure was a release for him as much as for you, a deep breath he couldn't take on his own - the same one that it felt like you'd been holding for weeks.
"I want to make you need me so badly it hurts, and then I want to be the one to give you relief.”
You hadn't been sure how much he'd meant it then, not wanting to spend too much time parsing the truth his words, accustomed to the flattering but insincere assurances you'd heard over the years. Unsurprising to you now, though, they’ve been a promise he’s thoroughly kept, again and again.
As your breathing slows he eventually slips his fingers slowly out of you and then you feel him shifting, moving your pliant form until you’re both on your sides with his chest still pressed against your back, his arm beneath your shoulders to support you. The hazy glow is still circling as you watch your reflections for a little while, taking in the dark ink scrolling over his skin and firm muscles of his arms and waist and thighs, dreamily following the path of his fingers that drift over your body as he quietly takes in every bit of you that he can reach.
When you turn to meet his gaze directly he carefully pushes your hair back from your face, revealing eyes that you're sure must be glowing. Familiar tendrils grow in your chest as you look up at him, climbing one rib at a time along with something else - not an entirely new feeling, but one much more firmly planted now.
A feeling of being safe.
Safe with someone who’s willing to go with you to find that precipice you've always sought. Encouraging you to push, ready to catch you if you stray too far as you fumble around the edges of something that you're desperate to know the shape of.
So many thoughts swirl in your mind, so many things you want to say as you lie in the comfort of his arms, but then your breath catches when his eyes begin to darken again and a hand slips under your knee, encouraging your leg back and open and you go with him easily now.
His gaze moving back to the mirror he gives a rough, satisfied sigh at the vision you present, open and exposed as his achingly hard length nudges slowly through your folds, adjusting his hips until the head catches at your entrance.
“Look.” Klaue hums, and your eyes follow his, licking your lips at sight of the thick vein running along the underside of cock and down to his heavy sack, quickly growing breathless at the awareness of how much he’s going to make you take - how much he always does.
That tight ache of need is already spreading through your core again as he begins an agonizingly slow press, and you can only watch in a kind of awe as his leaking tip nudges inside you, concentration etched across his face.
“Don’t tease,” you whimper, entranced by the soft, wet sounds of his shallow thrusts.
“What's the matter, there something else you want?” He teases with a gravel whisper, wrapping you tighter so that all you can do is rock your hips, a fierce grin curling his lips at your useless attempts to take him deeper.
“God, don’t you want to fuck me?” you ask, your voice cracking with desperation.
It’s a foolish question, you know it is, but even with the afterglow of your orgasm still humming in your veins his teasing is going to drive you mad.
“Darling,” he growls, incredulous, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the second I laid eyes on you tonight. And when I realized you weren't wearing anything but this under your pretty dress? Jesus, I-”
The gold that's wrapped around you flickers in the low light and you know that he's on the edge of giving in, can feel it in the reflexive twitch of his hips that causes him to stretch you just a little more, in the shadows of fingertip-shaped bruises that are blooming beneath his tightening grip.
“But I want to take my time with you, want you to get to appreciate how lovely you look wrapped around my cock. And once I’m inside you I'm not going to be able to stop.” It comes out in a rush, half plea and half warning.
“You've haven't taken your time already??” You look directly at him again, his heavy-lidded eyes meeting yours. “You have three more days for that, Ulysses. And I'm not planning on leaving this bed while you're here.”
He's always so intent on you, on savouring every bit of your pleasure, and you can understand because how rarely do you know the next time he'll be able to touch you? But now you have a precious few days to indulge in one another and his breath quickens as he considers your admission, a quick flick of his tongue leaving his parted lips glistening.
“Besides, you promised that I'd have all of you, and right now I want your cock and your cum,” you continue, looking at him through your lashes as you drag your fingertips through the coarse hair along his jaw. “And I want it so fucking deep.”
Klaue breathes a rough exhale, and then wordlessly he shifts to hook his elbow fully under your knee, his other hand reaching from beneath to find your chin and tipping it to meet his eyes in the mirror again, smirking at the bare need in your pleading expression.
And then with no other warning he sinks his cock into you and you can only make a strangled gasp when he bottoms out in one firm rock of his hips, the sudden aching stretch overwhelming your senses.
“I suppose you're right, klein Mot," he hums thoughtfully as you continue to whimper. "I have plenty of time fill this needy pussy.”
A slow drag out, shared heartbeats stretching long as he pauses long enough for you to wonder what he's doing, long enough for you to look, to see how his shaft is already shining with your slick before driving back into you hard, knocking the air from your lungs along with a tremulous cry.
"Again.."
Growling the word on another thrust he keeps himself fully buried for a moment as you pant in his arms, letting you feel how exquisitely full you are before he pulls back out.
"..and again."
He watches you with an animal glint in his eyes as you arch back against him, whining and cursing as you writhe helplessly on his cock.
“Poor thing, just want to be full of my cum, don't you?”
“God yes," your words are broken by another punishing thrust but a smile plays across your lips, so close to getting what you want, now. "Makes me so wet just thinking about it.”
"Should've dragged you to the coatroom before I left you alone tonight then, hmm? Fucked you so hard you couldn’t keep those pretty sounds to yourself and then let you walk around with a mess between legs, wondering who might have heard you begging for it.”
Then as if his own words have released him fireworks are bursting in your vision as the fissure in his iron will finally splits open, the strong arms wrapped around you the only thing keeping you in place as you surrender to the hard snap of his hips against yours. A wild shadow of lust colours his eyes, the sharp wet sound of skin meeting skin punctuated by a delicious grunt behind you as he relentlessly fucks into your tight heat, a sheen of sweat highlighting the muscles of his thighs that flex with every movement.
Your name becomes a low prayer overlapping with the rhythm of his hips and then you feel his control fall away entirely, harsh thrusts beginning to stutter until with a ragged gasp he buries himself deep, the hard throb of his cock hot and perfect as he shudders, hips jerking as he fills the deepest part of you.
“Right there?” Klaue groans, voice rough from his climax, blue eyes sparking bright as he keeps his cock as deep as he can. “That where you wanted it?”
You can only moan as you feel his sticky warmth spreading inside you, pleasure swelling deep in your belly with every pulse. You'd already been drawn swiftly back to the edge while he'd fucked you so when your hand drops down between your legs and your fingers brush over the place where you can feel yourself stretched around his still throbbing girth you're all but gone. “All of it, please..”
It’s quick this time, the last word trailing off as your fingers circle messily over your clit, and then with a white-hot surge of pleasure your orgasm steals your breath, your clenching muscles milking the last of his spend deep inside you.
"It's always for you," he says, a pleased grin on his lips as he watches you moan and grind yourself on his still pulsing cock. "My greedy girl."
“Your..fault,” you pant, your hips still twitching beneath your own touch. "Feels so fucking good, swear it's the only thing I want some days."
"Jesus, Mot." He drops his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a growled sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Whatever you want?” You reply, only half-joking, resting your head on his bicep as he tucks his arm back beneath your neck, a languid expression drifting across your face as you both catch your breath.
“Not what I meant, I- ” he trails off, slowly dragging his lips along your jaw. “To think you would ever be jealous. As if I could want anyone else when you let me have you like this - when you need me like this..”
His voice is a low rumble, the warm susurrus rolling through you as he slowly releases his other arm from where it's still hooked under your knee. Carefully he shifts you onto your back so that the backs of your thighs rest against his chest, his cock still half buried in you with both your knees now crooked over one of his shoulders.
"How can I make you remember..?” Klaue murmurs as he nuzzles into your hair, his hand sliding along your thighs and then over the the plush curve of your ass, slowly massaging you there - appreciating the fact that there's no velvet barrier between you now.
And then his hand disappears from your skin for a beat, barely enough time for you to register the loss before landing roughly again, the unexpected impact - more sound than force - eliciting a startled squeak from you and he gives a satisfied groan when your muscles clench reflexively around him in response.
You're aware now that you can feel him growing fully hard inside of you again which becomes all the more apparent when he gives a slow thrust that results in an obscene sound between you. He keeps you effectively pinned as you roll your hips beneath him, strong fingers rubbing a slow circle over the warming spot as pearls of his spend leak out around where you're still connected.
But just as you begin to relax into the sweeter touch he swats you again a little harder this time, and though it still doesn’t hurt you can feel the intent behind it now, and biting your lip does little to hold back the low whine in your throat.
“Hmmm, seems I may have thought of something,” he murmurs, glancing up at your reflection.
Heat is already pooling between your legs once more, and when your eyes meet his in the mirror your stomach flips when you catch the dark look there, a glint of something familiar yet enticingly new as he watches you slowly realize what he means.
“You want to…spank me?” You ask, your voice quiet but clear, a smile twitching your lips. Fresh arousal mixes with his release as you feel a spike of anticipation, a shiver rippling up your spine.
“I do.” Klaue replies simply as he shifts up onto his elbow, his voice closer to a whisper as he looks down at you. “Have you ever been?”
“What, been put over someone's lap and told I'm a bad girl?” you can't help teasing, your tone one of feigned innocence.
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind,” he says with a low chuckle, and though you're not quite sure what he does have in mind your words still clearly affect him, feeling the quick twitch of his now very hard cock against your walls.
“Have you?” He asks again, voice pitching low.
“Um, not really, no..” you trail off, pausing to force yourself to actually consider what he's asking, and unable to help grinning a little as you recall that first night with him. "A few times in the heat of the moment? Not more than that.”
“Did you want more?”
He sounds genuinely curious, but you don’t miss the way his eyelids are growing heavy, a smoky look through dark lashes that has you growing increasingly antsy as this unexpected conversation progresses. Worrying your lip between your teeth the thought of what more might feel like sends a slick throb of arousal to where you're aching again.
“I’ve..I mean liked it. But I don't think I’ve ever had anyone who I wanted to give me more. Or who I really wanted that from. But..”
But it’s him.
Even as a hazy pleasure is swelling through your veins once more your mind is growing clear, a sharp certainty crystalizing as you sink into the beckoning hunger of his eyes, into the growing need that you see there.
“I do. I want more, Ulysses.”
There's a softness in his voice that's in stark contrast to his next words.
“Good.” Klaue replies with a rough sigh. “Because I want to make it hurt, darling. I want to make it so that whenever you start to question you'll have this to remember, instead.”
“Oh,” you sigh, a sweet warmth spreading through your chest even as your breath goes shallow at his implication.
“Can I give you that?” he continues, shifting above you, the warm weight of him almost comforting as anticipation has you moving restlessly against him, the slick sounds of your joined bodies growing more pronounced. “Don't have to right now if you don’t want, but-”
A quick hand reaches up to cover his mouth, cutting him off.
“Yes,” you sigh, feeling the twitch of a grin behind your fingers. When you let your hand drop your thumb brushes over the sweet fullness of his lower lip and for a moment you pause, simply breathing together in the close space. Resting your thumb against the seam of his lips his tongue flicks out to wet your skin, and when after a beat you press a little more firmly he silently accepts your offering, the wet swirl mixing with an appreciative sound that makes you flutter around him.
“How- how do you want me?” you stammer.
He doesn't answer yet, still absorbed in flicking the tip of his tongue over the pad of your thumb as his hips slowly rock into you, and although his eyes are fixed on yours you're it's hard to tell whether he’d actually heard you. But then the sense memory of a pattern that's become so familiar between your legs has you whimpering and that sound seems to release him, your thumb freed and your lips captured once more as he kisses you again the way he has been all night - like a man starved who hadn't realized how hungry he’d been until you'd let him taste you.
Just as you're starting to sink into the kiss you suddenly feel another smack, and this time it stings. Your body arches reflexively and you pull away with a gasp but he’s quickly crushing his lips to yours again, and in the needy clash of tongues and teeth something flares hot inside you and you nip hard at the soft flesh of his lip, eliciting a hiss as he pulls away,
You’re about to apologize, caught off guard by what had just come over you, but when you glance up at him with abashed eyes instead of displeasure you're met with a look that's closer to admiration, and when he tongues at the tender spot your teeth had found you find yourself wondering whether he can taste copper.
“Any way you’ll let me have you, Mot.” You're still a little dazed and it takes a moment to realize he's answered your question, a glint of gold flickering through the gathering storm behind his eyes. "But right now I want your knees on the bench, and your elbows on the bed.”
You whine at the emptiness when he finally eases himself out of you and you start to disentangle from each other, but when he moves to stand back up you do as he says. Slowly you adjust yourself until you’re effectively kneeling in front of him on all fours, unable to help arching your back a little to give him a view of where he’s already left you stretched and swollen.
"Now, I have a question for you: Do you want to count to ten? Or do you want as many as you can take?”
You consider this as you settle into place, knees and shins braced on the plush fabric. Your instinct is to want the latter, always drawn to push and seek your limits, but still - it’s the first time doing this, and it feels like a solid stopping point would be better.
“Count to ten.” Looking back over your shoulder you catch the slow flex and curl of his fingers as he processes your answer, your wet heat growing as anticipation crackles in the air between you.
“Good.” He says with a note of approval as he moves closer. “I’m only going to give you what you want, alright?”
You nod, arching again in an offer and a confirmation, but then something occurs to you.
“But the first three don’t count. Ok?"
He pauses, giving you an appraising look as he rests his hands rest firmly on your hips.
“You already started counting. Good girl,” he croons, a warm hunger in his eyes as they sweep over your body. "Starting at one, then. And if anything gets to be too much, if it's not what you want, tell me to stop and I'll stop, yes?”
“Yes,” you nod, teeth catching your bottom lip when you feel his stiff cock drag against you, a streak of fresh precum glistening along the back of your thigh as his thumbs rub slow half-circles over your lower back, the sensation both waking your nerves and steadying you at once.
"Good,” he says again, the word low and pleased, and then after a few breaths he steps back and you feel his energy shift.
"Now...tell me how perfect your pussy is.”
Going completely still your next breath hovers in your chest, every inch of your skin prickling with heat as you absorb his request.
“What?” The question wavers softly in your throat.
“I know you heard me.” There’s a breathless cadence in his voice and that's when you realize that a hand is stroking over his length that's still slick from being buried in you, desire resting heavy in his eyes at the sight of you of you so eagerly spread open like this.
Looking at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. Like maybe you are perfect.
You’ve never been one to seek out the light, convincing yourself over time that you loved the darkness. And maybe you do, but maybe it's also been easier to hide beneath the shadows that have kept anyone - including yourself - from really seeingyou.
But Klaue sees you and tonight he’s made you look, has tried to make you see what he sees, and now as he waits you can feel him drawing you out again bit by bit, patiently allowing you to come to the realization that you don’t have to hide.
You swallow, and when you speak your voice is soft.
“It's perfect.”
“What is?” He coaxes, hand falling away from working his cock.
You can feel the heat radiating off of him as he steps back into your space, inhaling sharply when just the tips of his fingers make contact with the delicate skin of your upper thigh, short nails drawing lazy patterns that trail up over the swell of your ass and back down your other leg. Your mind longs to go empty as he continues this teasing caress but you know you can’t give in yet, so with a concerted effort you pull your attention away from his touch, allowing a slow exhale to loosen the words from your tongue.
“My pussy is perfect.”
It's harder than you were anticipating and you yelp at the sudden impact of his palm, your body jerking against the bed.
“I think you can do better than that. A little louder for me, yeah?”
The sting is softening to a buzzing warmth as you catch your breath, the soothing encouragement in his voice reminding you of why he’s doing this - that this isn't a punishment how you’d always expected something like this to be. He knows you want this and the thought has a calm feeling settling through you, one that overlaps with intoxicating anticipation.
You take a slow, steadying breath.
“My pussy's perfect.”
The words are barely past your lips when he lands another smack on your other cheek, and although you’re more prepared for it this time you still flinch and gasp, pressing your face into the sheets.
A sweet tingle is sliding over your increasingly sensitive skin, spreading from the point where his hand made contact and is now back massaging you, moving in a slow circle with just enough pressure to keep you aware of the nerves that are already warming.
“You know how good it feels, don't you?”
"Yeah,” you sigh with a smile. “Know you need my pussy so fucking bad- ah!”
A cry followed by a low keen slides between your parted lips, the heat that spreads through you meeting the pathways of pleasure that are starting to throb more insistently between your thighs.
"That's good, you're catching on.” Klaue's words are rough, but you can hear the grin behind them.
But again he's waiting, giving you time to absorb every sensation, and as you gradually relax you become aware that you can feel the shape of his hand, the outline of his fingers lingering hot on your skin. And, god, you already need more of that.
“D'you wish you could’ve bent me over that balcony, pulled my dress up so you could feel my pussy right there?”
Landing squarely on the apple of your cheek this one is harder - this is the first one that hurts. Everything draws tight, your knees bending reflexively as silver static swirls in your mind, your fingers tightening their grip in the sheets.
“You know I did,” he grits. “You know how hard it was for me to keep from playing with your sweet little clit until you were asking so nicely for me to fuck you in front of everyone.”
The next contact is just as hard and this time he doesn't pull his hand away, keeping his palm pressed flat against your ass as you pant and rut against the mattress, a sheen of sweat beginning to coat your skin.
“There it is. It's alright, just feel it, my darling.” His voice grounds you as the shimmer at the edge of your vision slowly fades. “How many was that?” he prompts, tugging your awareness back to him.
“Five.” Your reply is a breathy whisper as you realize that you’re only halfway.
"How many?"
"Five," you repeat, more clearly this time.
It’s not that it’s too much but rather the ache in your core is growing nearly unbearable again, and you can’t help the reflexive roll of your hips as pleasure continues to build. You're far from wanting to stop but you're still caught off guard by just how needy you're already feeling, and you're relieved that he seems to sense this because your breath catches in your chest when his fingers begin to tease at your entrance.
The soft feeling of them slipping through your folds is agonizingly delicate in contrast to the sting of his palm, but although you're shifting back in an attempt to find more friction he keeps his touch light, leaving you to flutter around nothing.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, fingers moving away from your center, sliding over your hips and the sway of your lower back.
At first you’re frustrated by the loss between your legs but your instinct to protest fades as soothing strokes ease the tension in your muscles, his hands moving with the slow reverence of a sculptor seeking the shape of you in block of marble.
“Good, I feel good. Warm.” You say, still a bit dazed. “Hard to catch my breath?”
“Endorphins. Breathe in slowly and then all the way out,” he instructs, gentle but firm.
Doing as he says you inhale and then push all of the air out of your lungs, and as you soften further into the mattress with each breath he rewards you by returning his hand between your legs, his middle finger gently petting at your clit, but although his touch may be sweet you know that he’s also watching every reaction of your exposed sex.
“Look at you making such a mess.” Klaue tsks, confirming what you've been able to feel for some time. “Every time you clench, I can see more of my cum leaking out of your pretty hole.”
As if to emphasize this his fingers slide down the inside your thighs, spreading the pearly sheen over the soft skin there before gathering what's dripping fresh, and you can only make a feral sound when two thick fingers suddenly push it back into you, the wet suck of them loud in the room as he slowly slides in and out of where you're growing increasingly desperate.
“God, you're so fucking beautiful,” he sighs.
Then his fingers are gone and it’s barely a heartbeat before his hand lands again, the sharp sound echoing in the air as exhilaration intertwines with something else glowing bright in your veins.
“Say it.”
It's getting easier, the high feeding you, and instinctively you brace yourself as the words fall from your lips.
“I’m- I'm beautiful.”
Another smack has tears beginning to prick at your eyes.
“Again.”
“I’m beautiful.”
The sting of it seethes through your nerves, releasing a low, wavering moan from your chest.
“That’s it, let me hear you. Let me hear how good it feels when it hurts.”
His hand massages briefly over your tender flesh and then fingers find your clit once more, quick circles tugging panted breaths from you. A fierce heat is swirling everywhere, not just where he touches but spreading through your thighs, your belly, licking its way up your spine, and though tears are beginning to darken your lashes a delirious smile plays across your lips as you brace your forearms against the mattress, seeking leverage to press back into his touch.
“How many was that?” He asks again.
As close as he's bringing you to it he doesn't allow you to sink into the approaching crest of pleasure yet, using the question to draw your focus back out of your body. It takes a few moments to confirm the count in your mind, but you’re sure when you answer.
“Eight. I get two more.”
“Yes, you do," he confirms, your eyes slipping closed as his voice slides over you like warm silk.
You can feel everything, now - your heartbeat rippling through muscle and sinew, the light that sings in your nerves, something filling the place behind your ribcage that you hadn't realized had been empty. Klaue has reminded you that your body was made to feel, every sensation inextricably woven together with blood and bliss and longing.
The glow of his hand across your skin is fading, and the last three swats had a little less force behind them which only has you craving that more he'd offered, a single word now rolling through your mind:
Harder.
You feel him go still. “Are you sure?”
Your eyes open at his unexpected answer to your internal plea.
“I..said that out loud?”
“You did.” Klaue's fingers are unmoving where they rest against your sex.
You take a slow breath, a calm certainty settling along the same edge of euphoria that he has you drifting closer and closer to with every touch. Turning to look back you shudder at the sight of him as he shifts on his feet, shoulders set wide where he looms behind you. And then you catch a glimpse of your own reflection - eyes bright and hair disheveled, licking your lips as you nod.
“I'm sure. Make me remember, Ulysses." Your eyes flick back up to meet his, nearly black with lust as you hear his breath hitch. “Make me remember that you’re mine.”
Salt and pepper curls fall across his brow as takes you in, searching your face, the inked skin across his broad chest rising and falling as his breathing deepens.
“Mine,” you repeat, the word soft and shot through with desire, your eyes watery but certain. "You’re mine, you’re- ”
You barely have time to register the shift, just catching the flex of his arm before everything goes bright and sharp, his hand landing twice in quick succession and then your breath is caught, hovering in your chest.
It takes several heartbeats before the sensation that's radiating through you begins to coalesce down to a point, the heat of it unfurling through your core, through your chest, and then up to meet the gasped sob that finally wrenches its way out of your throat.
Everything is glowing, your fists gripped almost painfully tight in the sheets as if they're the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth, but as the burn rolls through your nerves you become dimly aware of soothing words. Breathing a whimpered sigh on each exhale you feel him moving, and although your eyes are still squeezed tightly shut you can feel the weight of him dipping the mattress next to you.
"Just breathe now. You did so well.”
When you do manage to open your eyes you find him intently examining your face, the creases around that deep, heady blue filling in with something softer.
Though the tension in your body is easing, slowly replaced with something sweet and clear, your breathing is still uneven. Grasping fingers seek purchase and when a calloused warmth reaches out you instinctively tuck your hand into his larger one.
“Are you with me?” he asks, a thumb rubbing a comforting pattern over the back of your hand as his eyes flick over your face.
Lost in the mist of ache and ecstasy you manage a quiet “Yeah", your eyes bright behind a soft smile even as a tear slips between your lashes to dampen the fabric beneath your cheek. Accepting your answer he doesn't push for anything more but you can see something in his face, the intensity of his eyes making you squirm even as you lie exhausted and satisfied.
But no, not quite satisfied, that restless arousal now pushing through to the surface, no longer able to be ignored.
“Can I ask you something?” He says slowly, his words warm but tempered, not expectant even as your fingers intertwine more firmly with his, a thread of lingering need tightening between you.
“Of course,” you say with a sniffle, more than a little curious. After that he could ask you for anything, but he almost seems hesitant even as his eyes grow dark again, something in the depths silently imploring.
“Can I make you come one more time?"
You let out a breathy laugh and your eyelids flutter at the need that's plain in his voice, that insistent desire swelling higher.
“If it's too much-"
"It's not." You manage to get out as you shift restlessly, renewed arousal overlapping with that fading burn in your nerves.
Klaue lets go of the breath he'd been holding in a rush, anticipation now framing his posture.
“I want you to remember pleasure, too.”
Your mind is warm with incredulous affection, your fingers curling tightly around his, pulling yourself closer to him.
“What- I..this is- I will. I do.” You stammer, laughing at your lack of eloquence as you pause to collect your words. “God, everything you do gives me pleasure, Ulysses.”
“That's all I want, darling," he murmurs.
Giving him another smile you brush your lips over the backs of his knuckles. “Then will you please make me come? Please..”
There's a wildness in his eyes as he shifts to stand again and you move, too, however when you start to turn over he pushes you back down, keeping you bent over the bed. Once he feels that you're not resisting his hands disappear and then he's sinking down behind you, carefully adjusting our knees a little wider, thumbs sliding up to gently spread open the aching mess of your sex.
And then suddenly his mouth is on you, his tongue sliding hungrily through your folds to taste your honeyed slick mixed with him. You feel a desperate sound moaned into your cunt as if he were tasting you for the first time, and when he suddenly slips his tongue into your entrance you gasp at the soft intrusion as he presses deeper with a grunted sigh, seeking more of that heady nectar.
After only a few moments though, he pulls away, because while he would love explore you more thoroughly like this he also has a promise to keep. So instead his hands tilt your hips allowing him to find your clit, and a low, appreciative hum vibrates through you when you rut back against his mouth, every touch feeling impossibly heightened now, and pleasure is quickly swelling to a rolling throb as his tongue gently flicks over your aching bud.
But just as your feel that wave beginning to crest he pulls back and taking a slow breath he blows, so gently, the cool rush against your swollen sex both a relief and an agony, a helpless moan in your throat when he does it again.
And when his mouth returns to you it's now achingly hot, every swirl and slide of his tongue against your clit tying pleasure to a bright point that steals your breath, his grip around your thighs holding you firmly in place as your blood becomes a rushing voice in your head - his voice - layered beneath your own as you beg him not to stop, as if he even could, now.
Strong hands anchor you as you tremble on the edge of ecstasy and when he captures your clit between his lips and with that exquisite, fluttering pressure your body spasms as you come hard, his breath rough against your sex as you flood his tongue. Slowly he drags his nose and his mouth and chin against you, making sure you drench his lips and soak his beard as you fall apart for him - only for him - rasping cries muffled in the bedsheets as the border between your skin and the air around you seems to blur, fading together into the same place where words become the page they’re written on.
You're still breathless and shaking when Klaue pushes himself back up to standing and then he's jerking his fist over his cock again, his other hand keeping you spread open so he can watch you still flutter and twitch through your receding orgasm.
"Going to come for you again. Fuck, going to make you look so pretty- ” he rasps, the words going rough with the cadence of his strokes.
Looking back you watch him through a veil of bliss, his hooded eyes focused on you as he pumps his cock through his fist, chin and parted lips shining with you.
"Please Ulysses, need to feel it.."
With your words and only a few more rough strokes he gives a ragged gasp as thick white ropes spill over his fist to streak across your ass, the heat of it singeing your inflamed nerves.
But then he moves, because he can't help it - can't help burying his still throbbing cock, giving a relieved groan when he slides home with a messy thrust to spend the last warm pulses deep inside you. Collapsing over you he catches himself on the bed with forearms braced on either side of your body as his lips drop to your nape, and dimly you hear the sound of the sound of his gravel-whispered "Thank you".
Everything is hot - his breath, the solid weight of him pressing down into you, the sticky mess you can feel sliding where his belly is pressed against the oversensitive skin of your ass. It should be too much, overwhelmed and oversensitive as you lie beneath him, yet you can't help wondering what you might be willing to bargain to stay right here like this forever.
Patiently he allows you to rest as you start to ease back into reality, your breath slowing as you soften beneath whispered praises, words that imprint themselves not on your skin but somewhere deeper - threads of gold finding their way beneath your ribs to stitch a permanent mark that only you know is there, in a place that belongs only to him.
Water cascades over your bodies, warm enough that you’re not shivering but cool enough to soothe your sensitive skin, the intensity now softened to dim ache.
You'd drifted in and out for a while, your mind comfortably empty, and after an unknown length of time Klaue had led you to the bathroom. Surprisingly deft fingers had worked as he wordlessly unclasped the delicate chain from your body, laying it on the marble countertop before guiding you beneath the running water with him.
The generous shower is much more accommodating than the ones at the compound, though neither of you are particularly interested in taking advantage of the extra space; you only want to be close to him, drawn into his orbit as any residual tension you’d been holding washes away with the streams of water
However, as you’ve come back to yourself you've noticed that he seems quiet - has seemed quiet since he’d helped you up from the bed. He's not physically pulling away, his hands still moving carefully over your body - helping you rinse your hair, occasionally caressing the fading warmth of your skin - but still his gaze and mind seem to drift elsewhere.
“Ulysses?” You say softly, setting aside the cloth you’d been using to wash your face. You know he hears you, noting the slight pause as he adjusts the water temperature again, but still something draws his focus away from you, fixed on a point just past your shoulder even when he turns back to face you.
Concern etches your features and your voice is firmer this time.
“Hey, look at me.”
Finally he meets your eyes as water drips down over his brows, droplets glistening on his lashes.
“Hey,” you repeat softer this time, letting your hands rest gently against his chest. “Are you alright?”
He blinks, almost empirical in the way his eyes slowly pass over your face.
“Are you alright?” Finally a reply with the same question, echoing your concern with his own.
That’s when you begin to think you might understand that what he'd given you had taken more than you'd realized - perhaps more than either of you had.
“I'm good. Kind of wonderful, actually,” you say, and although there's still uncertainty there you’re relieved when you feel him relax a little beneath your palms, even leaning into your touch a little.
“You’re sure?”
You smile softly, thinking how best to reassure him.
“How about I ask you a question?”
“Of course, darling.” He replies, hands settling on your waist. You lick drops of water from your lips.
“And you’ll answer it this time?” You give him a gently teasing grin, calling out his redirect.
“I will..” he says, looking a little abashed as fingers play over your damp skin, but his brow creases when your expression grows serious.
“Do you trust me?”
His hands go still as a pause hangs in the air, a bead of water seeming to fall in slow motion from the tip of his nose. And then you finally feel him start to really come back to you, that flicker of blue flame behind his eyes so mesmerizing you couldn't look away if you tried.
“Yes.” He says firmly, tugging you against him. “I do.”
“Then believe me when I say I'm alright. Ulysses, it…it hurt, but you didn't hurt me. I told you what I wanted and you gave it to me. You're so good to me.” Your hand reaches up to dance over his damp curls, then down to rest along his jaw.
He presses his cheek against your palm, seeking reassurance there perhaps as much as in your words as you sense something tightening in him again. You don't say anything else yet, giving him a moment to find the words you can see him looking for.
“Did you know that the sounds of someone experiencing pain can be very similar to the sounds of pleasure?" Klaue pauses, swallowing. "Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. And I just..Christ, you sounded so beautiful I didn’t want to stop. Didn't know if I-” He breathes a harsh sigh as fingers tighten in the soft flesh of your hips.
You only know bits and pieces of his past, though you always appreciate whenever he's shared something with you, slowly revealing how he became the enigmatic and powerful man who's standing in front of you now. But you know that he doesn't live a soft life - has likely never wanted that - and you can only imagine what he's seen and done as someone who's learned to follow the ever-shifting path of what's necessary to keep things moving, to achieve what needs to be done.
“But you did," you soothe, both hands now sliding over his neck and shoulders. "And with or without a number I know you would have stopped if I’d asked, and more importantly I know that I could have asked. Because I trust you, too.“
It comes out easily and seems to finally wake him fully, his eyes opening wide with a familiar spark of pleased heat as he meets your unwavering gaze. His posture shifts, shoulders settling into a strong, familiar line as both of his hands cup your face. The pressure is comforting, and you're grateful that even if he's still holding uncertainty he's not closing himself off from you, his expression growing warm and teasing again as he tilts your chin.
"So," he arches a brow, "you would let me do that again?"
You give him a puckish grin. “I would most definitely let you to do that again.”
"Hmm, that's good to know. Because maybe I would like to put you over my lap. If you were feeling a bit…stubborn."
You're quickly growing warm at the thought of again and also just how stubborn? God, he still has you so easily in a state even now and by his expression he can tell, even though there's no chance of anything else right now. You know that you're both exhausted and after all you've got time - though you already know it won't be enough. It never is.
You'll still drift awake in the dark of early morning, wondering why you feel so lovely and warm before realizing a hand has found it's way beneath your panties, and a finger resting gently along your cleft. As soon as you confirm you're awake just the pad of that finger will begin to slip over your clit, the barest of friction, and it will be the only thing he'll give you until his name is a quivering plea on your lips.
“But not tonight.” You finish, sounding more than a little resigned.
“No," Klaue confirms, brushing his lips against yours. "You’ve taken more than enough tonight, darling. So now what I would like is to dry you off, find something comfortable to change into, and then you’re going to lie down in bed with me. And after that..”
A playful smile creeps into his words and you pull back, raising your brows in curiosity.
“Room service.” He finishes.
“Oh my god yes,” you laugh with unexpected relief, because as soon as the words are out of his mouth you realize that you’re absolutely famished.
* * * * * * * * * *
It was actually incredible how hungry you'd actually been even after the dinner earlier, but after polishing off the eggs benedict you'd only joked about ordering at this late hour (but which he had of course made sure was included), and happily licking whipped cream from the delicate pastries off of your fingers while he gave you a crooked smile, you were finally content.
Now lying tucked against Klaue’s solid warmth in the dark you feel sated in a softer way, relaxed as your fingers drowsily play through the shower-soft hair across his chest.
As you weave in and out of the mist of half-sleep you can feel the words that have been drifting closer to the surface all night sitting on your tongue like honey, your mouth almost watering with them. It feels like it would be so easy to let them fall, seeds to grow wild from the place in your chest that feels like sun-warmed earth.
After several moments though, the mist begins to clear a little, the edges of reality growing solid again and you're tugged back to this - with him, right now - and it's sweet. A comfortable calm settles in your limbs as you feel him shift sleepily against you and for once you find yourself hesitant to go into an unknown, one that would bring with it the possibility of upending the balance that you feel right now.
You don't get much time like this, you reason with yourself, you can count on one hand the number of times you've actually spent the entire night in the same bed (though you'll need two by the time you leave Vienna), and a selfish part of you wants to be able to simply enjoy this moment along with the next few days. Especially knowing that you face a decision that's creeping ever closer - one you'll need to make before spring begins to unfurl in the mountains.
So you let that part of you win out, deciding to allow yourself to just be, to let the comfort of his reassurance tonight - of what you now have to remember - be enough.
Still, you find yourself wanting to hear him say the words again, to fill in the warm space created by the ones you can't, not yet.
Tilting your head you look up so that your chin rests on his shoulder, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of his profile silhouetted by the city lights peeking through the curtains. You can't quite make out his eyes when he turns towards you in the half-light, but you can still feel them focus on you.
“Tell me one more time?" You say, softly.
Klaue takes your hand, raising it until the center of your palm rests against his lips. Then for a moment he lets your fingers drift slowly over his cheek, following along the line of his jaw before before he presses it firmly back down over his heartbeat.
“I'm yours.”
A/N: Really and truly thank you so much for reading, this chapter was a labour of love and I really hope you liked it! I don't know how long the next chapter is going to take, but it's more of a "capsule episode" and (at least at this point lol) it won't be as long, but regardless I'm looking forward to continuing to write and share the adventures of these two crazy kids. 💕
Chapter 14 snippet from "Surface Tension (Leonardo x Reader) - Weekly Updates!"
P.S./Warnings: I only write fluff, suggestive, but NO S M U T. This X reader will dive into some pretty heavy themes of anxiety, trauma, memory loss/amnesia, ✨SLOW-BURN ROMANCE✨, Leo's usual emotional constipation, and also mentions blood/intense fight scenes. PG-13 content. Reader discretion is advised.
Snippet Word Count: 1,416 words
Leonardo walks into the dojo, sliding the door shut behind him aggressively. He stomps over in front of the large tree, and he gets into position to meditate, sitting down and closing his eyes with a deep, slow inhale. ‘That’s not training, Leo, that’s just fear!’ April's final words dig into him, and he struggles to relax. He knows she was right, but what else was he supposed to do? He found himself suddenly in the position to not only make sure you’re safe, but safe on his team, on his watch, safe out there in open combat. It’s a completely different dynamic that opens you up to countless opportunities for mistakes, for injury, and he couldn’t bear to see you hurt because of his lack of planning. That’s why he has to make sure you’re prepared, no matter how disciplined or harsh that makes him. While you can rely on your muscle memory, Leo can’t trust in something so vague and inconsistent. He has to know, with absolute certainty, that you can handle your own, and the only way he can know that for sure is if he trains you himself.
“Leonardo,” Splinter’s voice pulls him back to reality.
“Hai, Sensei?” Leo responds, meeting his father’s eyes.
“You seem troubled,” Splinter notes, his tone gentle.
Leo sighs, slumping over a touch. “The team’s upset with how I’ve been training (Y/N), but I have to train her for everything. She’s the newest on the team, and she needs to be prepared for the worst.”
“Ah, yes,” Splinter says, stroking his goatee. “April’s words were sharp, but they came from her heart.”
Leo looks at him sheepishly. “You heard?”
“Of course,” Splinter responds. “You were both quite loud. It interrupted my meditation.”
“Sorry, Sensei.” Leo stands, beginning to pace. “She just doesn’t understand! I have to train (Y/N) like I would anyone else. She needs to be prepared for the battles we face. If I don’t train her to see that, to do the things that she needs to do, then–”
“Then you might lose her?”
“Yes, then I–” Leo halts, and slowly looks over at his father, feeling like he’s been caught in a trap.
Splinter offers a soft smile and pats his son on the head. “I may be an old man, my son, but I have eyes.”
“But, Sensei, that’s not…” Leo stops, seeing his father’s knowing expression. He gives up on his partial excuse, looking away shamefully.
“There is no reason to be ashamed of your feelings, my son,” Splinter says. “The only thing you should feel shame for is how harsh you have been with her.” Leo opens his mouth to protest, but Splinter silences him with another look. “April was right, you have been too hard on her. Thankfully, she is taking it well, but you need to practice patience, my son. (Y/N) is still recalling her past, her abilities, and you’re letting your fear get in the way of guiding her training with a steady hand.” Splinter leads Leonardo over to his family shrine, where a photo of him while he was human, his wife Tang Shen, baby Miwa, and a more recent photo of him mutated with his four sons, are illuminated by flickering candlelight. “This is my family.” Splinter looks at Leo, his gaze soft, a hand on the back of his shell. “And someday, you may have your own.” He pauses again, his eyebrows pinching together. Looking at Leonardo, standing before him like this, he knows he’s a young man now, but all he sees is his little turtle tot eager to learn. “You all are growing up so fast,” Splinter says quietly, like he can’t believe his eyes.
Leo’s finally softened, the tension in his shoulder released, and his expression is reverent of the shrine before him. He looks up at his father, listening intently to every word.
“My son,” Splinter begins again, “someday, if you take the opportunity and make wise decisions, you could have a family of your own. And if you have children of your own, and raise your children the way I hope you do, you will bring them up in love and patience, with a steady and consistent presence, not in fear.”
Leo looks back at the photographs with a new sense of amazement. He’s never allowed himself to look at them before the way he is now. To consider his future could look similar, with a wife and children… It’s an incredibly shocking thought. He didn’t even realize it was an option for him, being what he is, living the life that he lives. Master Splinter’s never discussed this with him before, and he feels an honor, but also a nervousness stretches over him. “But, Father,” Leo says, staring at the photograph of Splinter with his wife and child, “you can’t possibly think that someone like me– Well, that anyone of us, could really have what you had.” He looks back up at his father, filled with doubt. “You were a human when you married Tang Shen, and a human when your daughter was born. I’m not– We’re not…”
“Oh, my son,” Splinter says, “there is more to you than being a mutant. You are also a young man, you are my son, and I know that others see this as well.” Splinter pauses, turning to face the shrine, but glancing at his son through the corner of his eye. “Others like (Y/N).”
Leo tries to hide his embarrassment, wringing his wrists lightly, looking off to the side, and starting to feel quite overwhelmed. “Why have you never talked to me about this before?” His voice is quiet, tentative.
“You were just a child before,” Splinter explains, “but now, you are a young man.”
“Father,” Leo starts, hesitantly, “don’t you ever feel afraid when we leave for a difficult mission? How is that any different than the fear that I feel?”
“Of course I do,” Splinter’s ears tilt down, and a small smile stretches over his face. “But nothing lasts forever, my son. Not even family. Yet, if you train them well, you can trust in their abilities to keep each other safe, even when you cannot, and that is what I trust all of you to do; to look after and protect one another even when I cannot.”
Leo glances back at the photographs, feeling conflicted.
“Take some time meditating on this.” Splinter pats his son’s back gently, then walks out of the room, leaving his oldest with much to think about.
Leonardo stays in the dojo all evening, meditating, clearing his mind of his anxieties. He knows he’s been pushing you too far, and while he thought he was doing the right thing, preparing you for the worst, he really was trying to avoid his fear of losing you. He sighs deeply, imagining what it would be like to be wholly honest with you, to tell you how he feels, and be willing to accept whatever your answer may be. While it is a terrifying thought, from the subtle encouragement of his father and the hours of meditation, he slowly blinks his eyes open, feeling a growing sense of assuredness. Leo stretches out in the dimly lit dojo, kicking his feet out from under him, and lying flat on his shell, looking at the leaves above. I need to be patient, Leo thinks, reaffirming what Splinter told him earlier. Patient and guiding. Steady and consistent. Take opportunity and make wise decisions. He stands up slowly, giving himself a good stretch. I can do this.
Leo’s stomach flutters at the thought of talking to you about all of this, and he wrings his wrists nervously as he walks down the bedroom hall, straight to your door. It’s late, and he stops in front of it, wondering if you’re still awake, but not wanting to disturb your peace. He pulls out his phone, taps it a moment in his hand, looks at your door, then decides to text you.
Leader in Blue: Hey, are you awake?
He waits a minute for your response, but when he doesn’t hear anything, he turns around and heads into his room. He sighs, removing his gear, and hops into bed. Looking up at the starry ceiling, his mind drifts. Maybe she’s mad at me, he thinks. I guess she could just be asleep, but I’d be mad at me. He sighs again, rolling over, feeling guilty for pushing you away.
✨I just HAD to include a fatherly moment with Splinter and Leo. I mean, in Splinter's defense, he probably never thought a human could fall in love with one of his boys, or desire to live the life of a ninja like his boys do. They live such difficult and out of the ordinary lives, it would take an incredible individual to keep up with them (cough, cough, like you, might I say). This chapter leaves off on a bit of a cliff hanger, but I promise it's worth it!! Little hint, hint, this Saturday's chapter is called "Remembering." Hehehehe... If you'd like to read the rest of this FanFic, check it out at: Quotev Link Here
˚◞♡ 𝒋𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒚𝒊 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒓𝒂 209 — the snake-hybrid mad doctor◞ ₊˚
⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ “ darling, i have dealt with many hearts, but I've never come across one as pretty as yours, ” ꒱
. ˚◞꒰verse꒱ 209
. ˚◞꒰face claim refs꒱ ( x ) ( x ) ( x )
. ˚◞꒰species꒱ grim reaper, snake hybrid
. ˚◞꒰ethnicity꒱ chinese
. ˚◞꒰age꒱ 46
. ˚◞꒰gender꒱ male
. ˚◞꒰mbti꒱estj
. ˚◞꒰aliases꒱ the doctor, the surgeon, doctor herrera, the heartless, the black plague ( by enigma, the resistance ), snakie-boy, snake-bitch ( by haitao )
. ˚◞꒰appearance꒱
𖹭. oftentimes seen wearing his deceptively kind smile, fooling even the most skeptical of people when they catch a glimpse of the red painted lips stretched out on his face.
𖹭. deep amber snake eyes are often hidden by a pair of maroon contacts, hiding away the truth like the rest of his general body language and confident posture.
𖹭. long, silky black hair that falls past his shoulders, usually put into a half-ponytail or let loose.
𖹭. is able to unhinge his jaw, putting on display, his forked elongated tongue, rows of sharp teeth and his two snake fangs protruding whenever he yawns
𖹭. wears a wide range of jewellery, thin gold necklaces and chokers covering his neck and shoulders. while his ears are covered in a pair of standard lobe piercings, along with a helix — right ear covered in a conch and tragus piercing. rings covering his fair toned fingers.
𖹭. stands at the towering height of 6’7 ft ( 201cm ), with a lean and well toned figure.
𖹭. androgynous, sharp and soft facial features.
𖹭. very fluid and elegant in the way he moves and overall looks.
𖹭. primarily dons the red makeup styles.
𖹭. extremely vintage styled aesthetic in fashion choice, loves wearing poet shirts and suits.
𖹭. he has a frenum piercing ( peepee piercing )
. ˚◞꒰personality꒱
𖹭. deceivingly kind and serene demeanor hiding the sadism and manipulative intentions and ulterior motives.
𖹭. he is deceptive in every way and form, his sharp intelligence silencing those who speak against him or try to prevent him from succeeding his goals.
𖹭. has a silver-tongue riddled with false kindness and care the fools that decide to affiliate themselves with him, bringing them into a sense of comfort and security that never was there to begin with — using their confidence as an advantage
𖹭. on the inside, you see the sinister, sarcastic and malicious sociopath that is the true part of the so-called “goodhearted” poet.
𖹭. charming and charismatic words and actions concealing the greedy and sadistic side of him.
𖹭. prefers silence over loud talk, and maintains his anonymity and mystery due to this factor — getting him to talk is not a possibility, even if you tried by forcing it out of him.
𖹭. can be sassy and give blunt replies to people he finds himself irritated with.
𖹭. moodiness is a result of both his snake dna and his traumatic past — or because his husband is not around.
𖹭. calculative and witty — has a great memory and uses it often to note down the speech patterns, movements and body-languages of the people around him.
𖹭. his perceptiveness is the next in line to his intelligence, you cannot outlie the master liar and manipulator, he knows your tricks.
𖹭. hard to anger and irritate, and will applaud you for your audacity and stupidity for trying so.
𖹭. should this man find himself infatuated with someone, he will put his possessiveness and obsessiveness on display. showing you his yandere tendencies and greedy behaviour around them.
. ˚◞꒰with a lover꒱
𖹭. very sweet. very verbally and physically affectionate. you see the more humane side of him that others do not
𖹭. he is exceptionally patient with you. always assuring you when you need and comforting you
𖹭. he loves spoiling you. especially taking you out clothes shopping and letting you try out whatever it is that you may wish. loves seeing you flustered whenever he pulls you into a clothing shop. flustering you whenever he snatches your waist in front of a mirror
𖹭. always worshipping your skin with kisses. he can barely keep his hands off of you
𖹭. possessive, but hides it well with his poetic and loving words. he is most definitely a yandere type. willing to do whatever it takes to keep you at his side.
𖹭. very verbal about how much he obsesses over you, as much as he is clear in his actions that he wants you for himself and no-one else. should anyone look or talk to you in a way he does not like? he will gouge their eyes out, or use them as his newest “patients”
𖹭. loves teasing you and flirting with you until you have lost your breath from giggling or whining for him to shut up
𖹭. a very passionate lover and has no problem in showing his passion for you neither. even when it’s in public
𖹭. pda? what’s that? he’ll pull you into his lap even in a cafe. or kiss you in booths. have his hands on you. anything to show that you are his
𖹭. if anyone lays a finger on you. . . they are dead.
. ˚◞꒰strengths꒱
𖹭. increased bodily function: advanced strength, speed, agility and durability.
𖹭. heightened senses: advanced sight, smell, hearing, taste and awareness of surroundings.
𖹭. healing factor: an average healing factor that heals his injuries far quicker than most
𖹭. fangs and bite: has a set of snake fangs that can secrete two venoms: a paralytic, which he uses for sedation, and a fatal. he can switch between them. and especially powerful bite
𖹭. talons & venomous touch: he has talons that secrete high levels of venom. this venom is extracted by thin wired implanted on his wrists that carry his venom to his nails, resulting in venom-induced touches should he use them on someone.
𖹭. snake physiology: has the flexibility of a snake, therefore his body is able to move in the fluid motion that a serpent would. he is able to dislocate his joints with ease and twist his body in whichever way he prefers. his jaw can unhinge as well.
𖹭. poison immunity: immune to poisons.
𖹭. elastic jaw: the ability to unhinge his jaw to drastic measures
𖹭. hyper climbing and clawing: able to slither up surfaces
𖹭. seismic sense: able to feel vibrations in a seismic way whenever his limbs touch surfaces. he can feel these from quite awhile ago
𖹭. enhanced lung capacity: able to hold his breath for longer
𖹭. stealth: can move around swiftly and quietly
. ˚◞꒰weaknesses꒱
𖹭. poison addiction: due to building up a poison resistance by intaking the substances, he is now immune to poison but in turn has grown addicted to the intake of them. he now does it for the fun of it and as a coping mechanism.
𖹭. abandonment issues: if he is away from the people he loves. this can result in erratic episodes and even have a negative affect on his physical well-being
𖹭. fainting: should he grow overwhelmed, he is prone to fainting.
𖹭. apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.
𖹭. reapers: not much is known of this condition. . . come back later and perhaps you might find out?
𖹭. apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.
𖹭. oranges: has a bad allergy to oranges.
𖹭. daylight: as a nocturnal reaper, daylight and other bright sources of light can weaken his senses of sight as he is used to the darkness of the night.
𖹭. d’akar: an anti-magic material that can greatly weaken him if he comes into contact with it. he, especially is affected by this.
𖹭. extreme emotional attachment: while reapers may remind one of humans, they are not. they are beings with very empathetic instincts and have souls bigger than the average mortal being — a thing that has been with them since their creation. they become extremely attached to things they love and it may cause them to become erratic if enough they love is taken away from them.
. ˚◞꒰relationships꒱
𖹭. rishen herrera: husband, business partner, best friend
𖹭. yuè mèng yáo: mother, deceased
𖹭. zhào mùchén: father, deceased
𖹭. zhào hàoyú: younger brother, deceased
𖹭. zhào haitāo: younger brother, enemy
𖹭. zhào xīyáng: younger brother, deceased
𖹭. wèi lìxuě: enemy
𖹭. liú tàishī: enemy
𖹭. alessio agresta arias: “rival”, deceased
𖹭. lorenzo agresta arias: enemy
𖹭. park tae-hyun: enemy
. ˚◞꒰story꒱
sly grins and skilled yet devilish hands. hidden by kind eyes and serene smiles. how could a gaze like that watch with glee the suffering of experiments?
a mad doctor to match his mad scientist for a husband, experimenting and tormenting enigma and inhumans with the excuse of making a better world. jingyi herrera designs medicines that no other verse has even seen. so what if it's at the cost of a few souls? it's for the greater good.
so he'll indulge in his insanity. in his horrid morals and his lust for knowledge, for his twisted sense of justice. all if it means succeeding in all of his ambitions and staying at the side of his beloved.
. ˚◞꒰extra꒱
𖹭. he is a doctor and has a clinic on the second floor of valence. he specialises in most areas of anatomy and is a skilled doctor and surgeon.
𖹭. he is also the co-chairman of valence
𖹭. he is fluent in asl and csl
𖹭. he speaks chinese ( mandarin ) and spanish ( latin american )
𖹭. has a cat named Beatrice Herrera Reina the 2nd queen of the abyssal dread
𖹭. loves old-timey romance movies
𖹭. as much as he is mature, he does love giving his assistants a good scare every now and then when he thinks they are being lazy. . . and by scare we don’t mean by lighthearted pranks.
summary: you have a meeting to attend via zoom when jake is leaving for work. he has interesting ways of saying goodbye.
warnings: explicit, minors do not interact! oral (female receiving), brief masturbation (male), semi-public sex.
word count: 3.4k
author's notes: no beta, we die like goose. thank you to the creator coven for giving me this plot bunny to turn into the beast that it became!
likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! ♥
“Jake, honey! I have a video meeting in a couple of minutes!”
You liked to give your husband a heads up before you went into any meeting longer than half an hour whenever he was home. It had started in early 2020 when you were adjusting to working from home - everyone was - and Jake had kicked down the door of the spare bedroom slash office you were in, bare ass naked to retrieve some laundry. Thankfully your camera had been off, but it had the potential to not only get you fired, but cause an international incident.
“How long?” Jake asked, wandering from the kitchen and into the hallway, scarfing down half a sandwich.
You looked at your watch as you began to turn and head back to your office. “Um, an hour and a half?”
“I’ll be gone to work by then, I’m working the night shift at the base,” he said petulantly, shoulders slumping slightly. “I won’t see you until tomorrow morning.”
“I know, honey,” you said with a pout, turning back around and closing the distance between you. “I’m sorry. I tried to get it rescheduled, but the Dean was the one calling the shots on this one.”
Jake rolled his eyes, stuffing more of the sandwich in his mouth. “Well, I’ll pop in before I leave to say goodbye.”
“If you don’t I’ll be cross,” you said, wrapping your arms around Jake’s shoulders. You stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss, not caring that he’d gotten mustard on you somehow.
—
“Mrs. Seresin, did you have any updates from your meetings?”
You’d been trying to pay attention, but your mind kept drifting. Any meeting over an hour seemed cruel, and in the afternoon you were less likely to be at your best. You were also well aware that Jake would be leaving any moment, listening to the sounds of him gathering up gear and packing his bag for the night.
The Dean of the department and you were on a first name basis, but everyone had been calling you Mrs. Seresin since the wedding, because you couldn’t stop giggling and blushing over it, this time it was no exception.
“I do,” you replied, reaching for your notebook and opening a document containing some agendas and meeting notes that lived on your computer. You filled the void by saying “um” a few times while you searched through your materials. “The Equity, Diversity, Inclusion and Accessibility Committee met earlier this week to provide some feedback on the proposal of launching the Employment Equity Plan. Everyone was in favour but they did have some questions about how comprehensive the plan was.”
There was a light rapping on the door, and you turned to look back at it before turning back the camera. “Just a moment. Jake’s off to work.”
“Take your time!” one of your colleagues said, as you turned off your camera and microphone.
“Come in!” you said to Jake, standing up at the same time to greet him at the door.
Jake stepped in wearing his service khakis, and smiled at you. “Off to work I go, darlin’,” he said in a sing-song voice, wrapping his arms around you.
You hugged him tightly, turning your head to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You’ll call before I go to bed?” you asked.
“Of course!” Jake replied, ducking his head down and kissing you sweetly. He pulled back, saying nothing, looking toward your desk. “That leg is gonna give out at any moment,” he declared.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” you said, waving your hand. “I’ll fix it up later.”
“It’ll take me two seconds,” Jake said, relinquishing his hold on you and moving toward your desk before crawling under it. The space beneath your desk was certainly big enough to fit him, but you weren’t going to deny that he looked a little goofy crowded under there.
You smiled to yourself before getting situated back in your chair, turning on the camera and microphone on your laptop back on. Your colleagues were talking amongst themselves about the equity plan you had spoke of.
“Sorry about that,” you said, trying to get comfortable in your chair despite Jake futzing about with the leg of your desk. “Won’t see him until morning.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” the Dean said, dismissively waving his hand. “Shall we get back into it?”
“Of course,” you replied, looking down to check your notes, catching a glimpse of Jake using a small screwdriver to tighten up one of the screws. Seriously, did he just carry that around in his pocket? “I wondered if we could bring forth a couple of goals to help us promote a representative workforce? I think that would grab peoples’ attention right off the bat.”
“That’s actually a really good idea,” one of your colleagues said, just as Jake appeared to be finishing up.
You idly wondered how he planned to get out from under there, but figured you could just turn your camera off for a moment when he gave you the okay.
He did no such thing.
Clearing your throat, you looked through your notes once more and tried not to pay Jake any mind, who had situated himself between your legs. You had no idea what he was playing at, but did your best to ignore him.
“The first goal we drafted up was ‘to increase the recruitment of employees from equity-deserving groups,’” you continued, feeling one of Jake’s hands on your knee. “And the second was ‘To enhance the experience of current employees from equity-deserving groups.’”
“That committee of yours does some good work,” one of your colleagues chuckled. “Those are great!”
“Thank you,” you said, reminding yourself to breathe as if everything were normal as Jake’s other hand settled on your other knee. “I’ll be sure to pass that along to them.”
You turned your microphone off, and while still looking at the camera muttered, “Jacob Seresin, what on earth are you doing down there?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, the palms of his strong and calloused hands moving up your thighs. You pursed your lips tightly, trying to bring your legs close together on instinct, but Jake just pushed them further apart. “Keep your legs open, sweetheart.”
The conversation had moved on, and your colleagues were talking amongst themselves about the plan. Where you were the most junior staff person in the meeting, it was unlikely you would be contributing much to the bigger conversation, and for that you were thankful, because you certainly did not want to send your husband on his merry way.
“Jake,” you murmured, briefly closing your eyes and letting out a contented sigh. Though you knew it was gauche, you kept your eyes focused on the small image of yourself on your laptop screen. You knew how responsive you were, what sorts of things Jake did to you. The last thing that you wanted was for it to be extremely noticeable to your colleagues that there was something happening.
So, even though you wanted to be looking down under your desk, between your legs, you looked at yourself.
“God, I can smell you, darlin’,” Jake purred, pressing his face to the inside of one of your thighs. He inhaled sharply, and you made a small sound behind your mouth. “How wet are you?”
What a dick. He knew you couldn’t respond. You shifted a little in your chair, nodding along to the discussion in the meeting, even though you had no fuckin’ clue what they were discussing.
Suddenly, Jake’s face was pressed against your core. Your lips parted in a small gasp, but on screen it just looked like an ordinary sigh. “Soaked,” Jake murmured, and you could feel the vibrations of his voice against you through the layers of fabric that separated the two of you. “Oh my god, baby girl. I could taste you just like this.”
“Any thoughts?”
Fuck.
You turned your microphone back on. “Um,” you stuttered, shifting your hips slightly when you felt Jake’s fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings. “I thought we agreed on seven priorities instead of six. I believe it was Don who alluded to ‘lucky number seven.’”
“You know what? You’re right! Do you remember what the seventh priority was?”
“Recognition.”
When there were no follow up questions, you turned your microphone back off.
Jake’s fingertips brushed along your skin as he pulled your leggings down your legs. You raised your eyebrows at the screen, pretending to be engaged, meanwhile you were suddenly pantsless in front of the team you reported to.
“Oh my god, baby girl,” Jake murmured reverently, and you swallowed hard as Jake’s fingers traced over the edges of your labia through your underwear. As he had observed before, you were already wet, and the sensation of him touching you had you briefly closing your eyes. The drag of the wet fabric against your clit, Jake’s thick fingers pressing against you, had you rolling your hips toward his touch.
The Dean said your name. “Does the Office of Equity and Inclusion being the lead to ensure clarity, confidentiality and transparency make sense to you?”
You begrudgingly turned your microphone back on. “Oh … yes. That, um, seems like an appropriate office to take the lead on that.”
God, you wished the Dean and the rest of your colleagues would just stop asking you for input. Compared to everyone else in the meeting you made significantly less money and had significantly less say in the operations of the university. Then again, they were likely trying to make a point about the whole equity plan by including you.
“You sound so wrecked,” Jake murmured, rubbing your clit through your wet underwear. You whined and lifted your hips toward your touch. “They probably can’t tell, but I can.”
Panicked, you checked to make sure you’d turned your microphone off - you hadn’t. You hoped to any deity that would listen that no one had heard that as you turned your mic back off.
“Jake,” you whispered, trying not to move your lips, “please.”
“Please what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, as his fingers pressed your entrance, digits wrapped in your wet underwear plunging gently into you. “Stop? Keep going?”
“You asshole,” you murmured good naturedly. “Keep - keep going.”
“Mrs. Seresin, you had something to contribute?”
Fuck.
You began to speak, only to have three different people let you know that your mic was turned off. “I, uh, just wanted to double check by what percentage we wanted to reduce our overall workforce analysis gap by?”
“Eighty percent.”
“Thank you!”
While you had been speaking, Jake had pulled your underwear off, grabbing your legs and pulling them over his shoulders. On camera, it looked like you had shifted and sat back a little in your chair. It wasn’t … inaccurate. This time you triple checked that your microphone was off.
“God, look at that sweet little pussy, darlin’,” Jake groaned. You could feel his warm breath against your clit, and swallowed hard. “I can’t wait to put my mouth on it, to taste you.”
You bit at your lip, and keeping your eyes on yourself, attempted to deduce what it would look like if you fisted Jake’s hair in your hand. Unfortunately, it would definitely look like your hand moved between your legs, so you opted to keep your hands above your desk, much to your dismay. You wanted to feel Jake’s soft blond hair through your fingers, pull on it gently, command him closer to your cunt.
Despite Jake’s declarations of wanting to put his mouth on you, you felt his fingers once more. You gasped, hoping it looked like a yawn on camera, rolling your hips into Jake’s touch.
“Jake,” you whined - carefully - hoping that you wouldn’t be asked to speak, or what your thoughts were, again. “Please. Put your mouth on me.”
“Darlin’, you sound so pretty when you’re begging,” Jake hummed, pressing his mouth where your thigh met your loins. “Maybe I want to hear it some more?”
He was not being fair and it drove you mad, but you wouldn’t want him to change.
On your laptop screen, the Dean and your colleagues were in a deep discussion about the second pillar of the plan, inclusive excellence actions,. And while you had been looking forward to this discussion, it paled in comparison to giving your full, undivided attention to your husband, on his knees between your legs, mouth so close to your pussy, strong and calloused palms alternating between moving over your thighs and calves.
“You’re - you’re going to be late,” you attempted to rationalize. God, you wanted him to draw this out, but you also didn’t want him to get in trouble.
“Beg.”
A shiver ran down along your spine; you knew that was his lieutenant voice. You might have come right then and there if you hadn’t been looking forward to his mouth on you so much.
You made sure to watch yourself on screen, you couldn’t let others know how absolutely wrecked you were.
“Honey, please,” you purred, in a voice that you knew slid over Jake like silk. “I need your mouth on me baby. Fuck, you make me feel so good. Put your tongue in my pussy. Please. I need to feel you, and I know you want to taste it.”
“Mrs. Seresin?”
You really wished you could just leave the meeting and that the Dean would stop jokingly calling you that. You could feel Jake’s wide smile, full of teeth, against your skin, everytime he was reminded that you were his.
“Your microphone is off.”
Your hand was trembling as you reached for your mouse, moving the cursor to turn the mic back on. “Sorry,” you apologized, and holy fuck did your voice ever sound strangled. “Talking to myself mostly.”
The Dean laughed. “Quite all right!”
You turned your microphone off, and that was when Jake’s tongue began to move along your lips. Inhaling sharply, you balled your fingers into a fist, dragging them against your desk.
“Jake,” you whined, letting your eyelids slip closed.
“I think you’ve earned this,” he murmured, the audible sound of his swallowing down your juices far too much to bear. Your hips undulated toward him, and he chuckled softly. “Such a good girl.”
He was sucking your clit gently into his mouth, hauling you closer to his face. You gasped, reaching down and gripping the bottom of your desk chair. It was difficult when your focus was drifting between Jake’s mouth on you, and watching yourself on screen to ensure that it didn’t look like what was happening, was in fact, happening.
You bit down on your lip repeatedly, as Jake’s tongue rolled over your clit before descending lower. Slowly, wetly, he licked his way into you. Moaning against your tightly pursed lips, you arched off your chair, wanting more of him inside of you. The tip of his tongue licked against your walls, and he groaned like it was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.
If you asked him, he would say that it was.
You could feel him shift, and without even looking you could tell that he was rubbing himself through his trousers. There wouldn’t be enough time for him to get changed, and you were certain his other tans were in a laundry basket somewhere.
Jake pulled his tongue from you, and you mourned the loss pathetically, whining and trying to chase his mouth. He placated you by slowly pressing one finger inside of you, as his tongue laved over your clit.
“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he hummed against you. You risked a look down, and holy fuck, you’d never seen a sight so gorgeous. Jake’s mouth on your pussy, his bright green eyes looking up at you. “My mouth, my fingers, my cock. So hungry for it all.”
Tightly closing your eyes, you reached for your phone, and thumbed at it to make it look like you were checking your messages, when really you were snapping a quick photo of Jake - eyes bright, tongue licking along your folds, open palm rubbing at his crotch.
“They’re gonna want to talk to me soon,” you murmured, setting your phone down, fingers flexing against your desk. “Please … make me come. Let me come.”
“God, darlin’.”
Jake wrapped his arms around your thighs, hauled you closer, mouth on a mission. You gasped as he sucked your clit gently into his mouth, and then pressed two of his long, thick fingers inside of you. You chanced a glance down at him again, and god, even he looked like he was beginning to come apart at the seams.
Your eyes quickly lifted back to your screen. You didn’t look too fucked out, but you didn’t look like you probably should have in a meeting. You hoped that it was subtle enough that no one else could notice.
As if on cue, your supervisor asked for your input.
“Um,” you choked out, fingers reaching for the edge of the desk. Oh god, Jake’s tongue was flat against your clit, and his fingers were pumping in and out of you just like he fucked. His fingers weren’t as thick as his cock, but they were still his, and he still knew how to stretch you open slowly, perfectly. “Can you, uh, remind me where - jeez - where we are?”
“The third priority, recruitment.”
Briefly, you hung your head, trying to compose yourself. You could feel the pressure beginning to build at the base of your spine. Jake’s tongue moved inside of you, along his fingers. Oh my god, you were going to come. He was going to make you come on camera. You could see the mischievous twinkle in Jake’s eyes even if you couldn’t see it.
“Right, recruitment,” you repeated, unable to keep yourself from rolling your hips. You wanted to fuck Jake’s face so badly as he brought you to the edge, but there was no way. As if sensing your dilemma, Jake’s free hand gripped your hip and pinned you to the chair.
You chose to ignore the concerned look on one of your colleague’s faces. “You had some really great wording for the fifth action in a call that we had, but I’m afraid I didn’t capture it. Would you mind repeating it?”
Yes, I fucking mind!
Jake was relentless. You couldn’t move, all eyes were on you. Trembling, you reached for your notebook to flip to the page with relevant notes. Nails scraped against the edge of the desk, as Jake whispered below, “C’mon, darlin’. Be a good girl. Come - come on me. I want to taste you. Baby, let me taste you.”
He was begging you now.
“Tha - thank you,” you stuttered, knuckles turning white as you continued to grip the edge of your desk. “What I had suggested was ‘Develop and - ha - facilitate a specialized candidate caaaaare program aimed at - ohgod - empowering and supporting equity-deserving job seekers naaaaavigating the employment process.”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine!” you replied quickly, as Jake crooked his fingers inside of you. “I think I have to sneeze. Be right back!”
You turned both your microphone and your camera off, ignoring the concerned looks from your coworkers.
“Jake!” you cried, head thrown back as you moved your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers, chasing his tongue. “Honey please. Please!”
You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling hard, and he lifted his gaze to yours. You came with a shout, pressing down against Jake’s fingers and face so hard that his knuckles brushed your entrance, that you were positive he wouldn’t be able to get the scent of you out of his nostrils all day. Jake groaned against you, lapping up every bit of your slick. When he eventually pulled away, he licked his fingers before slowly standing up. You grabbed at his wrist, pulling his hand toward your face. He slipped his fingers into your mouth, and fucked your face slowly.
“Baby,” you hummed, leaning into his touch against your face. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip, and you looked up at him. “Baby, what about you?”
“I get home at six am tomorrow,” he purred.
Your eyes lit up, knowing what kind of mood he would be in after enduring the desperation of needing release all night. “I’ll be waiting.”
Can you hear the maniacal laughter of someone who thought he was burnt out from his fucking masters in fine arts only to be unleashed and write over 5k words in two days?
It's me. Hi, I'm still working out the kinks for the Constellations redux and I'm honestly feeling pretty pleased. Probably gonna have a piece for Sun soon.
If you don't know what's happening, go here!
In theory, there are many positives to a second Daycare Attendant in any given pizzaplex, especially one so big and busy as here. They could act as a second in command at the daycare, or provide extra security, or even draw more people in to using the daycare while the primary Attendant continued their duties. In theory, the world was their oyster.
Reality hit a bit different.
Sunny has always been protective of his role as Attendant, which is understandable, given the virus and all that he and Moon had gone through. So the mere idea of sharing his space and duties was something that sent him into a bit of a tailspin. You’d barely suggested it before realizing how stupid of an idea it was, but it still took the better part of a day between you, Moon, and Gemma convincing Sunny that he was both allowed to be upset by the idea and to express that without feeling like he was going to be shut down or replaced. A second Attendant existing within fifty square miles of himself was putting him on edge enough. There was no way your Sun and Moon would be allowed to help in the daycare without someone suffering.
Moon is more amenable to sharing his nightly duties, but given Sunny’s distress more is not much of a stretch when applied to “lukewarm lack of enthusiasm.” You’ve… had trouble reading this Moon. When you talk to him, you often catch him staring at your face or arm. He doesn’t mean to, but it makes you self-conscious, knowing that he’s all too aware that his own claws could fit neatly into the scarring left behind. Sunny had been eager to talk about it, to share the experience, you suppose, but Moon?
Moon kept his thoughts of everything to himself.
Of course, none of this mattered at all because ultimately the new Attendant couldn’t be caught by the higher ups. You and Gemma and Anika are taking a big risk rescuing and bringing back a decommissioned bot, let alone a duplicate, let alone the very bot that had you nearly fired after nearly dying. All the ways you tried to spin this into a positive paled at the fact that you and your friends would very much be fired and imprisoned, your Attendant shut down and probably scrapped, and Sunny reprogrammed if you were caught.
They spent most of their time around the bakery.
That’s because you spent most of your time at the bakery. You don’t like it as much as the overnight janitor gig, and sometimes you’re asked to man the till and have to put up with parents and guardians poorly disguising their horror at your mangled face, but it’s where the powers that be decided you belonged now. You make cakes and cookies and avoid the front of the little building with the creepy cupcake statues and staring adults as much as possible.
I’m coming up.
There is one benefit to your Attendant’s new body: wifi accessibility. You can text them now. And you do, constantly, backfilling the years with memes and stories and pictures and videos you’d saved just for them. It also meant that when you decided to do something vaguely fool-hardy, like climb into the rafters to find Moon, you could warn them and know that they’d be above the bakery within minutes.
You’ve barely made it to the top of the ladder when oversized hands wrap around your torso, helping lift you into the rafters with your weight roughly held about your armpits. Record timing. You give a wiggle, giggling at the gravelly tut it elicits. “You are going to hurt yourself climbing up here.”
“But I wanted to see you and Sun.” You do wait until Moon’s set you solidly on one beam, turning in its hands and pushing into it for a hug. You can hear it mechanicals ticking away inside its chest, solid and comforting and real. And you can feel when it leans down, its teeth pressing gently into your hairline in a pantomime of a kiss. “You can’t come down when the plex is open, and I’ve got a lunch break anyway.”
“No lunch,” Moon says, and you lift your head to glare at him. The glare is ruined by your inability not to smile.
“Tell Sun if she wants to critique me, she has to come out herself and not send our boyfriend to do the pestering.” You push up on tiptoes, and Moon immediately moves to support you, keeping you centered on the wide beam and safe in the loop of its arms. You lean against it, fingers catching at the edge of Moon’s faceplate to tug down (it’s not fair, even with this shorter unit you still barely make it to their shoulders). You kiss Moon’s teeth and nose, peppering your lips over unyielding silicone while a laugh bubbles up in Moon’s speakers. It’s Sun’s laugh, almost, just pitched down and made a mess. But it’s a relief too, knowing Sun is still there.
“Gemma is trying to source parts for a new exoskeleton.” You’re sitting with a sandwich Moon had fetched from the bakery fridge, eating one handed. The other is too busy holding Moon’s. “It’s just been difficult with the faceplate. Your old one was pretty unique for the attendant lines I guess.”
“We appreciate the costumer replicating our old outfit.” Moon shifts, running its free hand down the blue striped pants covered in soft silver stars. “As much as we appreciate our twins’ looks, it was rather jarring to awaken like that.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. We probably should’ve waited for you to look more like yourself but I was selfish.” The prickle of self-doubt isn’t helped any by the soft bonk from Moon against the side of your head. “You can’t deny it Moony. If I had been more patient, maybe Sun would be willing to come out.”
“The Sun will rise soon. They just need time.” It’s an ill comfort, and your sandwich feels dry in your mouth. You chew hard to swallow. “She loves you.”
“I know.” You squeeze its hand tightly, pulling it into your lap. You’d lean—but you are a good forty feet off the ground and terrified of heights. Even having your legs dangling off the edge like this is vaguely terrifying. “I still miss her. I wish we could talk directly because I’m still worried about everything t-that… everything that happened.” Ugh, you’re crying around your fake eye. It’s the weirdest feeling, still being able to cry out that socket, not having any control over it. You have to let go of Moon’s hand to scrub at it, the eye rolling uncomfortably under your palm.
“The other Sun talked to us a little about the virus.” Moon’s hand joins yours, pulling your hand away so it can lift your chin and fix the eye for you. You try to hold still, face growing warm as you find yourself staring at Moon’s hat. “About the conversations you’ve had with him.”
“No wonder my ears have been burning,” you mumble, closing your eyes once Moon’s fingers were clear. His hand didn’t leave, and you lean into it, kissing his palm.
Moon laughs his normal laugh, thumb stroking over the uneven texture of your face. “If that were the case, you would be burning all the time. Sun and I have had much to talk about.”
There’s another moment of fear and self-doubt, did I do the right thing, what if they hate each other, what if they’ve hurt each other, but Moon’s voice cuts through the fog. “—blame me.”
“Huh?”
Moon laughs again, more softly this time. “Cotton in your ears Starlight? I said, Sunny explained how you’ve never, not once, blamed me.”
“Why on earth would I blame you for anything?” you ask, and Moon’s fans pick up, the LED lights of his eyes flickering. Oh, have you upset it? It’s harder to tell with this faceplate, but the fans are usually a decent indicator of some major emotional change.
“Because of this.” Moon’s grip tightens on your cheek, just briefly, dropping down to the scarring on your throat next. “This. And here.” Its fingers are invasive, pulling the sleeve of your shirt up, pulling at the straps of your elbow brace. “You’re scarred, mutilated, by my hands.” It pauses as it pushes up onto your shoulder, under your shirt. Just Moon’s fingers are big enough to cover the entire joint, its palm pressing lightly against your upper arm. It’s not even that you’re small. “You would be dead if it weren’t for Sun.”
“I would’ve been dead if it weren’t for both of you.” You take Moon’s hand, pulling it free of your sleeve. You can’t quite look Moon in the eye, knowing that your broken socket is already leaking (you can hardly call it crying). You push on the tip of Moon’s fingers, watching the claw flip up like a switchblade, testing the tip of it. It’s blunter than before, but the thin metal still hurts as it presses against your finger. Moon pulls away. leading you to chase after its hand and hold it tight once more.
“I don’t remember much of that night,” you admit, your voice going soft to keep from cracking. “I don’t remember most of the year after either. The doctors say I got thrown really hard and cracked the back of my skull. Like reverse whiplash from a car accident.” Moon tries to pull away again, but when you hold on, it has to stop or risk unbalancing you. “Don’t. I don’t blame you Moon; I never have. Because you could’ve killed me from the very start and you didn’t. We both know you’re faster than me, even without the wire.”
There’s a click from its voice box, but you shake your head hard, sniffling. “No, shut up, I’m not done. You’re faster than me. You’re stronger than me, but it’s my right side that’s all messed up, not my left.” Not your dominant hand, your artist hand, as Sun had taken to calling it. “You were holding back.”
“You can’t know that.” Moon’s voice clicks audibly, erroring out into static as his fans pick up. He can’t pull his hand away; you’ve got it with both of yours now. “Sun held me back.”
“You could’ve shut him out,” you retort, and you do look at Moon then, the dimness of his eyes a dead giveaway for how little he’s enjoying the conversation. You don’t like it either, but this is important, and you’ve been holding it in since your first conversation with Sunny. “The other Attendant told me. His Moon blocked him out entirely. They couldn’t communicate, and he couldn’t see anything when he wasn’t in control. He never had a chance to Eclipse. But I remember that. I remember seeing Clips. I-I remember being held by you both.”
Moon’s hand has curled up in yours like some dead thing, so you take the time to smooth out its fingers, pressing its palm over your sternum, roughly over your heart. Its fingers brush heavily over the bottom of your jawline. “This right here is because of you. That virus, whatever it was, would’ve killed me if you hadn’t held it back, if Sun hadn’t eclipsed you. Moon, you would never hurt me.”
The words are an echo, a promise given, a promise kept in your mind. Moon is looking away again, hand pressed limply against your chest. You can feel the slow brush of its thumb against the scar tissue on your throat. You swallow, and its hand goes very still.
“I hated it,” Moon finally says, lowering its hand until it sits in your lap. You take it with both of yours again, watching Moon as it stares down at the sparse crowd. Humans, parents and children and siblings milling about, eating and laughing and talking, the music just loud enough to drown them out. “The way Sun has described her anxiety, you your intrusive thoughts, it was like that. A constant, cloying need to give in. If I didn’t, if I refused, it dug in deeper, circling around, waiting for me to slip up and let the prompt through. And the games…” Moon stops itself, wiping at its faceplate. tugging at its hat until the bell jangled. “We stopped boogeyman, then chase, then Sun suggested we stop naptime until things were better. It wasn’t until I actually. Hurt.”
When Moon stops again, you scoot a little closer, leaning into its space. “That’s when Sun banned me from the daycare,” you prompted softly, but Moon shook its head.
“That was later. Sun caught me digging through our memory files, trying to sort where that thing had come from. And I’d been deleting other things without realizing. Or… it had been I suppose. Safety protocols. Mobility limiters on things like our claws. Files about you.” It holds there a moment, its hand on your lap turning to hold tight to your thigh. “That’s when Sun banned you and banned naptime. She tried to keep us safe in the daycare, and it, it worked mostly. I couldn’t hurt anyone if I wasn’t the primary program. Except for you.”
It looks to you again, leaning close until it can gently bonk its faceplate against your temple. You smile weakly, pulling it down for a kiss, soft and short and once again a little awkward given the stiff, unexpressive material. You have to let go of Moon’s hand so you don’t feel off-balance, and you can feel it move up from your lap to your belly and side, holding you in place. “It hurt to be shut out but… I can’t say I did much better,” you mumble against Moon’s teeth. You are reluctant to pull away, face growing hot. “I just left. After I was released from the hospital, FazCo said that I could finish college and have my medical bills and tuition covered, or I could go to jail for interfering with their property. And I left.” Traitor tears are building into a great flood that can’t be sniffed away. “I left you and Sun to rot in the basement and I thought about that every day, not knowing if you’d been wiped clean or discarded entirely. Because I’m a coward Moon! If I had been braver, I could’ve saved you! We could’ve been together longer!”
“Oh Starlight.” There’s a trip in Moon’s voice again, less gravel, more Sun, but it’s still Moon’s pet nickname, and Moon’s gentle hold that’s pulling you (still so high!) into its lap, tucking you against its chest so you can hear the thrum of its mechanicals through its exoskeleton. “You are no coward. You could’ve waited ten, a hundred, a thousand years, to find us again, and we never would’ve thought you a coward.”
You can’t help but let out a shaky giggle. “There’s no way I’d have been around in a thousand years.”
“You never know,” Moon says, its voice catching into the tail end of a song. “And we would’ve loved seeing you again as much as we love seeing you now.” You’re safe in Moon’s arms, hugged tightly against its chest as it tilts its face down into your hair. “Seeing you, holding you, hearing you. We love you.”
“I love you too.” You say the words into their neck ruffle, check pressed against the oversized bell that hides the clasp. You snuggle in deeper, ignoring the stiff wire holding the silk in place. “I missed you so much. I love you.”
It takes a minute and for your phone to go off, your manager wondering where you’d disappeared to, for you to compose yourself. Moon helps you to the ground and you’re about to leave to finish your shift when you remember a question that’s been bothering you for a long time.
“Moon?”
“Mm?” It’s busy fixing your shirt sleeve, fighting where the cuff is trying to curl up on itself.
“When they shut you off, were you and Sun… separated?”
Moon’s fingers pause, rubbing over the fabric instead. “Separated?”
“You were Clips when we were found. Did they force you to restart before d-decommissioning you?” Were you and Sun alone when you were killed?
Moon must’ve picked up on the unasked question because its hand moves to cup your cheek, the unmarred side of your face soft and warm against its metal. “No,” Moon says softly. “We were still Eclipse when they shut us down. And you were still in our arms.”
“Oh.” Your ribcage is suddenly too small for your heart, and you fling yourself into one last, bitterly tight hug. “I’ll see you after work.”
“Don’t climb into the rafters,” Moon warns, and you can’t help but snort.
“Why not? I know you’ll be there to keep me safe.”
You know Moon’s current face is static, but you can’t help but think that it seems just a little happier as you disappear into the bakery to finish out the day.
