#Laszlo kreizler fanfic

[andy-15-07]

The News

Summary:Y/N anxiously prepares for Helmut Zemo’s return, holding a secret—she’s pregnant. When he arrives, they share an emotional reunion, and he’s overjoyed at the news of their growing family.

Paring: Baron Helmut Zemo x reader

Words count: 2594

Daniel Brühl Masterlist | Masterlist

The soft hum of the rain tapping against the windows filled the quiet apartment, adding to the warm, cozy atmosphere Y/N had tried to create all day. She had spent hours preparing for this moment—cleaning, cooking, and nervously adjusting everything in the living room a dozen times.

The smell of dinner—a mix of Zemo's favorite dishes—lingered in the air, and soft music played in the background, trying to mask the excitement and nerves building within her. Y/N checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time, her eyes darting to the time.

He should have been home by now.

Helmut had been away on a mission for weeks, leaving her with nothing but sporadic, cryptic messages that barely hinted at when he might return. But today was different. Today, she was certain he'd be home. She had received a brief text earlier that morning, "Coming home tonight. Don't wait up."

Of course, she couldn’t just go to bed, not with the news she had been holding close to her heart, a secret she had been dying to share with him. She glanced down at the little box in her hands, flipping it open and shut nervously. Inside was a tiny pair of baby shoes—white and soft, with delicate lace around the edges. She smiled softly to herself, a rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

She had found out a few days after he had left. The initial shock had been overwhelming, but the idea of them starting a family had slowly taken root, filling her with a joy she hadn’t expected. Y/N could already imagine Helmut’s reaction, the way his eyes would light up, the way he’d pull her into his arms, overjoyed at the news.

The rain picked up, drumming harder against the window, and she glanced outside. The city was dark, a few lights flickering through the sheets of rain, but there was no sign of him yet.

Minutes felt like hours, and the worry she had tried to suppress started to creep in. What if something had gone wrong? What if he was hurt? But no, she pushed those thoughts away. Helmut was too skilled, too careful. He always made it back to her, no matter what.

She placed the baby shoes back in the box, setting it on the coffee table and rubbing her hands together nervously. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting a warm glow over the room, but it did little to soothe her nerves.

Then, finally, she heard it. The unmistakable sound of keys jingling at the door, followed by the soft click of the lock turning. Her heart leapt into her throat as the door slowly creaked open, and there he was—Helmut Zemo, soaked from the rain, his hair tousled, but very much alive and home.

“Helmut!” Y/N exclaimed, rushing to him before he could even close the door behind him. She threw her arms around him, ignoring the dampness of his clothes as she buried her face in his chest.

“Schatz…” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there was a softness in his tone as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in, as if grounding himself after weeks away.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. She had missed him terribly, every moment he was away felt like an eternity.

“And I missed you,” he replied, pulling back slightly to look at her. His dark eyes were tired but filled with love as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, meine Liebe.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection for this man she had chosen to spend her life with. But she could see the weariness in his expression, the way his shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of whatever he had gone through. She knew better than to ask about the mission, not right away. There would be time for that later.

“You’re soaked,” she said, her voice tinged with concern. “Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

He nodded, allowing her to guide him toward their bedroom. She helped him out of his coat and boots, and then he peeled off his wet shirt, tossing it aside. His body was as strong and lean as ever, though she couldn’t help but notice a few new bruises marring his skin.

Y/N frowned, reaching out to touch one gently, but Helmut caught her hand, bringing it to his lips instead.

“It’s nothing,” he assured her, his voice low. “Just a few scratches.”

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed with worry, but he gave her a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was trying to protect her, as always, but she could see through the façade. He was tired—emotionally and physically—but he was here, and that was what mattered most.

“Come on,” she whispered, tugging him toward the bathroom. “A hot shower will help.”

Helmut didn’t argue, and soon the sound of water filled the space as steam began to rise around them. Y/N stayed by his side, helping him rinse off the grime of whatever battle he had been through. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as she ran her fingers through his wet hair, massaging his scalp gently.

They didn’t speak, the silence between them comfortable and intimate, a reminder of how connected they were, even after all these years.

Once he was clean, she handed him a towel, watching as he dried off and wrapped it around his waist. His gaze softened as he looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he pulled her into his arms once more.

“Thank you,” he murmured into her hair, his voice filled with a deep, unspoken gratitude.

Y/N smiled against his chest, her heart fluttering with love for this man who was always so strong, so capable, and yet so vulnerable in moments like these. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him.

“I made dinner,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Your favorite.”

His eyes lit up, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “You spoil me, Schatz.”

“Only because you deserve it,” she teased, leading him back into the living room where the food was waiting.

They settled on the couch, plates in hand, and for a while, they just enjoyed the meal in comfortable silence. But Y/N could feel the weight of the secret she was holding, the news she was so eager to share. She glanced at the small box on the coffee table, her heart pounding in her chest.

Helmut noticed the shift in her demeanor, his brow furrowing slightly. “Is something on your mind, Y/N?” he asked, setting his plate aside.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to begin. But then she took a deep breath, reaching for the box and holding it out to him.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly.

Helmut’s eyes widened in surprise as he took the box from her hands, his expression curious as he opened it. His gaze softened instantly as he saw the tiny baby shoes nestled inside, his breath catching in his throat.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he looked up at her, his eyes searching hers for confirmation.

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m pregnant, Helmut. We’re going to have a baby.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, as if trying to process the words. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a smile so full of joy and love that it took her breath away.

“Meine Liebe…” he murmured, setting the box aside and pulling her into his arms. He held her tightly, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped the back of her head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she clung to him, feeling his love and warmth enveloping her completely. “I was so nervous,” she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion. “I didn’t know how you’d react.”

He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands and looking into her eyes with a seriousness that made her heart skip a beat. “Y/N, there is nothing in this world that could make me happier than this news,” he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “You and our child…you are everything to me.”

She smiled through her tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his love. “I love you, Helmut,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“And I love you, more than anything,” he replied, pressing his forehead against hers. “Thank you…thank you for this gift.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other close, their hearts beating in sync. The rain outside had slowed to a gentle drizzle, the soft patter against the windows a soothing backdrop to the moment they were sharing.

Finally, Helmut pulled back, a playful glint in his eyes. “I suppose I’ll have to be extra careful on my missions from now on,” he said, a hint of humor in his voice. “I have more than just you to come home to now.”

Y/N chuckled, wiping away her tears. “Yes, you do. And you’d better keep that in mind.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss her softly, his lips lingering against hers as if savoring the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with a tenderness that made her heart swell.

“We’re going to be a family,” he repeated, his voice filled with awe as if he was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. His hand moved gently to rest on her stomach, his thumb tracing small, tender circles over the place where their child grew.

Y/N placed her hand over his, the warmth of his touch sending a wave of comfort through her. “Yes, we are,” she whispered, her voice full of love and certainty. “Our little family.”

Helmut’s eyes shone with emotion as he stared down at her, his usually composed demeanor softened by the weight of this new reality. He had faced countless challenges, confronted the most dangerous of foes, and yet, this moment—this simple, beautiful moment—was enough to bring him to his knees.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “A family of my own… I never thought it would be possible after everything that’s happened. And now, here we are…”

Y/N smiled, her heart breaking and healing at the same time. She knew his past was riddled with pain and loss, and she understood how much this meant to him. “You deserve this, Helmut. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

He shook his head slightly, his expression one of disbelief. “I don’t know if I deserve it, but I’m not foolish enough to let it slip away. You and our child…you’re my future now. My purpose.”

She could see the determination in his eyes, the promise that he would do everything in his power to protect them, to give them the life they deserved. It was a vow unspoken, yet she felt it in every fiber of her being.

Helmut gently pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered again, the words heavy with gratitude. “Thank you for giving me this gift, for giving me hope.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with love for him, a love that seemed to grow stronger with each passing second. “You’ve given me so much, Helmut,” she replied softly, her fingers threading through his as they rested on her stomach. “This is our gift to each other.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the reality of their future slowly sinking in. It was a future filled with the unknown, but for the first time, they faced it together, not just as partners, but as a family.

After a while, Y/N broke the comfortable silence, her tone laced with playful curiosity. “So… have you thought of any names yet?”

Helmut chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, breaking through the seriousness of the moment. “Already? You’ve only just told me!”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and full of joy. “Well, we should get a head start, don’t you think? We need to be prepared.”

Helmut’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he considered her words. “True. But I think we should take our time. We have many months ahead of us to decide.” He paused, his gaze turning thoughtful. “But if I had to choose… something traditional, perhaps. Something with meaning.”

Y/N nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. “Something that honors your heritage, maybe? A name that connects our child to their roots.”

Helmut’s expression softened, a deep pride flashing in his eyes. “Yes,” he agreed, his voice low and serious. “Something that carries the weight of history, but also the promise of a new future.”

She could see how much this meant to him, and it warmed her heart to know that he was already thinking of their child’s legacy. “We’ll find the perfect name,” she assured him, leaning into his embrace. “One that represents everything we’ve been through, and everything we’re going to build together.”

Helmut kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering there as if sealing a promise. “We will,” he agreed. “And no matter what name we choose, our child will know they are loved. That is the most important thing.”

Y/N sighed contentedly, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. This was what she had always dreamed of—a life filled with love, a future full of hope. And now, with Helmut by her side, that dream was finally becoming a reality.

As the evening wore on, they talked about their plans for the future—the changes they would need to make, the things they would need to prepare for. They discussed where the nursery should be, what color to paint the walls, and how they would balance their new responsibilities. It was a conversation filled with excitement and a little bit of fear, but most of all, it was filled with love.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day caught up with them, and they found themselves curled up on the couch together, the warmth of the fire lulling them into a comfortable drowsiness. Helmut held her close, his arms wrapped around her protectively, his hand resting on her stomach as if to keep their child safe even in his sleep.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart swelling with love as she watched him drift off. There was a contentment in his expression that she hadn’t seen in a long time, a peace that came from knowing they were finally moving forward together.

And as she closed her eyes, her head resting against his chest, she knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—united by the love they had for each other, and for the family they were about to start.

In that moment, Y/N realized that the future was no longer something to be feared. It was something to be embraced, something to be cherished. And with Helmut by her side, she knew they would create a life filled with happiness, love, and endless possibilities.

As sleep finally claimed her, Y/N’s last thought was of the tiny heartbeat growing inside her, a new life born out of the love she shared with Helmut Zemo—a love that would carry them through anything.

The rain outside had stopped, leaving the night quiet and still. And in the warmth of their home, their hearts beat as one, full of love, hope, and the promise of tomorrow.

[nocapesdahling]

Put that Pen Away

Laszlo Kreizler x GN! Reader

My Masterlist

Summary: You come across a man writing in books in your bookstore and have to put a stop to it. Yet you can’t help but think he looks familiar and for a book vandal, he’s surprisingly charming. 

Warnings/Tags: Fluff; Modern Laszlo Kreizler; Featuring Laszlo’s glasses

Word Count: 667

A/N: This one is a bit short, but I’m very excited to be dipping my toes back into writing and a sweet and silly fic featuring Modern Laszlo seemed like a perfect place to start. Hope you enjoy!

You were walking the aisles of the store to see if anyone needed help and to make sure no books were out of place when you saw him. You first noticed his profile, bearded with a lovely nose, his neck wrapped in a scarf and a pair of clear circular glasses rounding out the look. What really made you stop however was not the fact that it was a handsome profile, but that he seemed familiar somehow.

As you gathered yourself and walked closer, the next thing you noticed was he had one of the books out open on one of the tables as he leaned over it. And he wasn’t reading it. Oh no, he was writing in it. Writing in one of your store’s books. That was unacceptable, it was defacement of the highest order. That poor book. Handsome familiar profile or not, you couldn’t let that stand.

“Excuse me, sir. You can’t write in the books. Please don’t do that.”

He sighed and it sounded world weary, like he’d been caught writing in books before and he was tired of people stopping him. Well good, he should be. He should have learned his lesson the first time.

He had the audacity to finish whatever it was he was writing before gently closing the book and sliding it back onto the shelf. You made a note of where it was for its later removal and held in a shudder at the thought that he might have written in others.

He turned to you and you moved your eyes away from the books to take in his face. The gasp you let out was hopefully inaudible. It was Laszlo Kreizler. The Laszlo Kreizler. The author whose books you’d devoured since he published his first Alienist novel, reading them again and again, and the man you’d had a slight crush on ever since seeing his author photo at the end of book one. Well if you were being honest with yourself, it was a little more than a slight crush. However, it was nice to fantasize about people you’d never meet, and a famous author was a harmless person to have a crush on. It’s not like you ever thought you’d meet him in real life. Your favorite author was here in your store, and even more handsome in person. Somehow. And he was writing in books?!

“Can I do it if I’m signing my own books?”

You then realized what aisle you were in. Mystery and Thriller in the K’s. He’d been signing his own books. He hadn’t been defacing anything after all. You were giddy in your relief and smiled at him without thinking.

He was patiently watching you. His dark brown eyes behind his glasses were piercing and seemed to take in every detail as he analyzed your face and expressions. At your smile, his cheeks reddened slightly and he glanced away.

“Yes, that’s okay Dr. Kreizler. That’s wonderful. It’ll be such a nice surprise for buyers. I may have to ask you to sign mine while you’re at it.”

His blush was impossible to hide now and he cleared his throat, his accented voice hesitant. “You know of me? You’ve read my novels?”

You smiled again and gave him a once over. His author photo really didn’t do him justice. “I’ve read all of them multiple times. They’re some of my favorites.”

“Oh… well, it’s nice to meet a fan.” He looked down for a moment before making eye contact again and smiling back hesitantly.

“It’s even nicer to meet you, Dr. Kreizler. Do you do this sort of thing often? Come to bookstores and sign your books?”

“Yes, I have been doing it for years now though I am not often caught.”

“Really? That’s amazing. I’d love to hear more about it and any of your other signing misadventures over coffee. What do you say, Dr. Kreizler?”

“Coffee sounds lovely. On one condition.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“That you call me Laszlo.”

Reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated. Thanks so much for reading!

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve posted in ages, so I hope you all liked it and please let me know if you did! 

If inspiration strikes, then I might end up writing a sequel to this about their cozy coffee date because I love the idea of drinking a hot beverage and talking about books with Laszlo. 

My Masterlist

[phoenix--quill]

Prompt 1: Morning sex

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler/you

Rating: E (minors DNI)

Warnings: unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie

Length: ~1.400 words

Summery: Lazy summer morning with Laszlo

Notes: See? A bed, just two people having sex and not a table in sight, I knew I could do it, lol. On a serious note, I’m currently house/cat-sitting and they’re driving me insane so entries will probably come a little slower than before but we persevere.

AO3

A small beam of summer sun had managed to find its way through the heavy curtains of Laszlo and yours shared bedroom, waking you up slowly despite the silence of the early morning. You rolled over languidly and was met with the sight of your husband’s soft back and shoulders, still rising and falling gently as he slept.

For a few minutes you simply lay there, basking in the warmth of your bed and the gentle sound of Laszlo’s breathing. Then temptation won out in your mind and you risked waking him up to snuggle up against his back, breathing in the smell of his skin and hair. You thought you might never tire of this, the feel of his skin against your lips as you gently kissed along his shoulders, the scent so uniquely him that you would recognize it anywhere – a mixture of the oil he favoured for his beard and hair, old books and just simply him.

You felt him wake up as you continued your gentle exploration of his shoulders and back and he groaned in what could be only be described as contentment.

“Morgen,” he said lowly, his voice still gravely with sleep.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” you whispered with a gentle laugh and planted a kiss on his arm, “you just looked too tempting,”

He let out another rumble and turned to lie on his back, giving you the opportunity to continue your trail of kisses along his chest. You slowly wound your way along his collarbone and up his neck before stopping just shy of his lips. Your eyes met his for the first time of the day and you hoped his always piercing gaze could see your love and affection for him; though you suspected desire was dancing in there too.

He smiled up at you, brushed a lock of hair out of your face and gently cupped your face, running his thumb over your soft lower lip. Always so soft, your Laszlo; always so afraid to hurt you, one way or another. He drew in a sharp breath as you kissed the slightly rough pad of his finger and you gave it a few small licks to see if you could replicate the response. Instead he groaned as he pulled your face to his, easily capturing your lips and taking your breath away.

While his hand had stayed on your jaw, yours wouldn’t stay still and you stroked up and down his chest, running your fingers through his sparse chest hair and lightly brushing over his nipple. He broke the kiss to let out another deep groan and then another sharp breath through his nose when you brushed passed it again. He was never more beautiful than this: his lips red and slightly swollen, his cheeks flushed and his already dark eyes looking like the very void.

You sighed his name against his lips as you leaned back down to kiss him again, running your tongue along his lip, begging for entry. He granted it, of course, running his tongue against yours as his hand found its way into your still sleep-rumpled hair.

As the kiss continued you leaned further over him until you had to put your hand down beside his head to keep yourself up. You broke the kiss with a breathless laugh and looked him deep in the eyes as you swung one leg over his waist and made yourself comfortable in his lap.

Except from the thin blanket that covered his legs, the both of you were still naked from the previous night’s activities and, as you sat up, you could practically feel his eyes roaming your bare breasts. He didn’t seem to be able to stop himself reaching up and cupping one, massaging it gently before flicking his thumb over your nipple.

You whined softly and ground your hips against his soft stomach, feeling the slightly coarse hair that trailed below his navel against your nether lips.

His other hand, which had previously been lying uselessly against his side, came up and gently squeezed your thigh, encouraging you to keep up your motions against him. Between that, Laszlo’s good hand continuously going between massaging your breast and pinching your nipple and the heated expression on his face, you could feel your wetness starting leak down your thighs and pool on his abdomen.

“Laszlo,” you whimpered as you angled your hips slightly to rub your clit more directly against him.

“I am here, my love,” he whispered, his breathing just as heavy as your own.

With one hand on his chest to support you, you reached around to find his manhood already lying heavy against his leg, precum leaking into the sheets beneath him. The both of you moaned in unison as your hand closed around him, giving him a few pumps and you revelled in the feeling of his silky hardness against your hand.

You rose up on your knees to slide back slightly, manoeuvring his hardness in between you legs and rubbed your wetness against him, soaking him in seconds. He gave another throaty moan and you whimpered again at the combination of the sound and feeling of him.

His hand switched to your other breast and with a particular hard tug against your nipple, your body acted on its own accord and you sank down on him, your walls stretching as you bottomed out all at once. Something between a moan and a shriek ripped itself from your throat and mingled with his own sounds. You had to hold still for a moment, the feeling of his thick member inside of you threatening to overwhelm you.

“So good; always so good,” you babbled as you leaned down to kiss him again, locking your lips as you began to move against him, each of you swallowing the other’s noises as pleasure rippled through you both. You rose up on your knees only to slam your hips down, again and again, enjoying the stretch of him inside you and the feeling your nipples brushing against his chest with every bounce.

You could feel his weak hand twitching against your thigh while the other came up to once again tangle in your hair and you decided to mirror him, tangling your own fingers with his against your leg while the other went to his jaw.

“Laszlo, please,” you whimpered against his lips as you felt you thrusts starting to falter and become uncoordinated. “I can’t,” another whimper escaped you and words became harder as you mind clouded over.

You felt him move his legs slightly and then angle his hips before starting to thrust up, immediately hitting the spot inside you that made you see stars. Both your arm and legs shook and threatened to give out as he continued his heavy thrusts and your throat felt sore as deep moans continuously fell from your lips.

“So close, please, my love,” the words fell from your lips without you even being fully aware of them and you started to pepper his chest with small kisses and licks, the need to feel him all around you was the last and only thought in your mind.

“Come for me, my heart; just let go,” he whispered almost pleadingly against your hair, his breathing coming out in hard puffs as he tried to hold back his own climax. He slipped his hand down between your legs, finding your clit immediately. You would never be able to replicate the feeling of Laszlo’s slender fingers against your most intimate parts and he did not disappoint now, as with only a few flicks and an especially deep thrust he made you climax so hard you thought you might pass out.

You felt your whole body tighten as waves upon waves of pleasure rolled through you; a scream forever lost in your throat as seemingly no air could escape you. Then you felt it, the warm feeling of Laszlo’s seed filling you as he arched up beneath you, finding his own climax. Your limbs finally gave out and you collapsed against his sweaty, still heaving chest.

Silence once again filled your bedroom as the two of you came down from your high, your breathing slowly returning to normal. You rolled off of him after only a moment to lay beside him instead – the exertion coupled with the quickly rising summer sun had made his skin too hot to bear for long.

You opened your mouth, about to ask for the time, when you heard the distant sounds of your maid roaming around the house and blushed at the thought of her hearing what had transpired mere minutes ago.

[lorna-d-m]

Gingerbread

Word Count: 4,870

Rating: E

Warning: wine drinking, swearing, breast play, some dry humping

Author's Note: happy thanksgiving! Now that it's passed I can officially say: Merry Christmas y'all! Timeline wise, this takes place between chapters six and seven.

Alice missed the days of elementary school when the last day before winter break was reserved for nostalgic movies, hot chocolate, and wearing your pajamas to school. Instead, students completed their end-of-term exams. Instead of relaxing, kicking up her feet and putting on a movie, she graded first periods’ exams during second, and so on and so on. Those who finished before the end of the period could read or study for another exam. 

Stevie approached her desk, and she looked up assuming he had a question about the exam. Instead, he handed her a small envelope and whispered so quietly she could hardly hear him, “Merry Christmas, Ms. Greene”. Stevie turned on his heels and returned to his desk.

Curiosity piqued, Alice examined the envelope. She would recognize Stevie’s handwriting, so she assumed it must be Laszlo who scrawled her name on the front of the envelope. Alice noted the fancy stationery: the thick off-white envelope with a red wax seal. 

It was a simple but elegant Christmas card depicting a winter scene. Before she read it, she looked at the gift card tucked inside. It was for her favorite coffee chain and $15, plenty for two drinks or a drink and a snack. Inside the card, Laszlo wrote a brief thank you, Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays. He signed, as well as Stevie. 

Stevie watched her open the card. Not wanting to distract any students or draw too much attention, Alice mouthed thank you to him. She wondered if any other of Stevie’s teachers received a card. When she checked her phone at lunch, Bits answered her question. 

Nice Christmas gifts from the good doc 🎄🎁 I’m assuming you’ll get more than a card from him? 😏😉

Alice chuckled, knowing all the innuendos Bitsy meant with a simple wink and smirk emoji combination. They made plans for Saturday when Stevie was supposed to be hanging out at a friend’s house.

Oh hush you 🤫A lady doesn’t kiss and tell

She went back to grading, worrying if the gifts she bought him were enough. Saying he was difficult to shop for felt like a lame excuse, but Alice couldn’t think of anything else to get him. Unless… well she supposed it was more of a purchase for her, but he would certainly appreciate it.

Laszlo deliberated for two days about what to cook for dinner. It was not his first time cooking for Alice, but it was his first time in his kitchen amongst all his tools and familiarity. The expectations were higher. He wanted to do something delicious for her, showing her how much he cared for her. Once decided, he went to the markets in the morning. It was his guilty pleasure. Laszlo enjoyed carefully perusing all his options and leisurely strolling around. He could never stick to a list; he always bought things he didn’t need but decided at the moment he wanted. 

He returned, carefully holding a brown paper grocery bag to his chest. Stevie stood over the stove, cooking a late-morning breakfast of eggs and toast. Laszlo had to tease him as he slipped into a winter break sleep schedule. 

“Good morning. Any later and I would tell you good afternoon.” 

“Ha ha,” Stevie laughed dryly. “I’ve never heard that one before.” 

Laszlo unpacked his groceries and handed a party-size bag of chips to Stevie. “For tonight,” Laszlo thought it rude to go to someone’s house emptyhanded. “Do you need a ride or is Jake picking you up?”

“He said he’d pick me up at like four, and then…” Stevie trailed off, but Laszlo waited expectedly. “I was going to ask you how late I could stay.”

Curfew was, Laszlo didn’t like to call it a debate, but a matter of discussion. On school nights Laszlo stuck to 9:30, wanting Stevie home at a reasonable time. On weekends, however, he was more flexible. So long as Stevie was transparent about his plans, telling him where he wanted to go and who he would be with, Laszlo was willing to adjust the time. 

Laszlo trusted Stevie and he had yet to disappoint him, but for emergencies and peace of mind, they had each other’s location shared on their phones. It went both ways, Laszlo could see if Stevie was at school, home, or a friend’s house, and Stevie could see if he was at the university, the Institute, the police station, or the courts. As a show of faith, Laszlo told him he would only check if he had a legitimate concern or cause. He had yet to check, knock on wood. 

And of course, if Laszlo coincidentally had plans with Alice the same night, then perhaps Stevie could stay with his friends a bit longer.

“That depends,” Laszlo huffed a sigh in thought, “Will he be dropping you off, or will I pick you up?” 

Stevie didn’t bother to plate his food or sit at the table. He stood at the counter, scooping the scrambled eggs onto a piece of sourdough toast with his wooden spoon. At least he didn’t create many dishes… Stevie answered with a mouthful, “He can drop me off.” 

Perfect. “How does eleven sound then? Take it as an early Christmas present.” Then Laszlo could enjoy more time with Alice. “And text me when you’re on your way back.” That way they had a reminder when she needed to leave. 

“Thanks!” Stevie was a quick eater, a result of his childhood, and already he finished his breakfast. After cleaning the few dishes he used, he went back to his room.

Alice pressed her lips into a thin line in focus. It was an unconscious habit as she piped details on gingerbread cookies in royal icing: delicate buttons to the little men, twinkling lights on the trees, and fine lines on the snowflakes. Flour and icing smeared her cheek and dusted her clothes, and she was sweating from the residual heat of the oven. 

The timer on her phone startled her, making her smear the line of the snowflake. She cursed and set the cookie aside. Alice didn’t want to give Laszlo an ugly cookie. And, she sighed while brushing away an errant lock of hair, she didn’t want to look like an ugly cookie either. The timer reminded her to step back and start getting ready.

After hearing Laszlo had no Christmas plans, other than little celebrations with Stevie since John and Sara were on a much-needed vacation, Alice wanted to make sure their night was perfect. She debated what to wear, settling on a red low-cut sweater and a tight skirt. Classic, but enticing, and she could show off one of her gifts for Laszlo.

***

Alice parked on the street and waited in her toasty car. It was her first time visiting Laszlo’s house. She pulled out her phone, and rather than text Laszlo that she arrived, she typed a message for Bitsy.

Oh shit. He’s rich rich 💰

Bitsy responded quickly. oh??? 👀👀That’s good because you need to marry rich you’re a teacher

She took a picture of the front of the brownstone house and sent it. That should tell Bitsy all she needed to know. Then, she texted Laszlo that she had arrived. Taking a deep breath in, she left the coziness of her car and braved the cold night air. 

The front door was off street level; it was up a set of stairs. Alice was careful, her hand gliding over the railing as she ascended them. The last thing she wanted was to slip on icy steps: embarrassing herself and ruining her hard work that afternoon or Laszlo’s gifts. Before she could knock on the old brass knocker or ring the decorative doorbell, Laszlo opened the door. 

He radiated warmth, and not just because of the heat escaping the house. Laszlo wore a white apron over his clothes, a lock of hair fell across his forehead, his sleeve was rolled up, and he smelled like the delicious food he cooked. It made Alice’s stomach growl and her heart flutter. 

“Please, come in. You can put your coat there,” he gestured to a coat rack in the corner of the vestibule and took the platter of cookies from her hands, “and I can take these to the kitchen.”

He had a vestibule and a foyer beyond that. Alice knew he had money, but she did not realize how much until she saw his home. She shed her coat, and she caught Laszlo’s eyes appreciating the neckline of her sweater just as she intended. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t quite finished, but please, feel free to wait in the parlor and nibble on the cheese board while I return downstairs.”

“Your kitchen is downstairs?” Alice almost asked “you have a parlor?” but that was a less pressing matter.

Laszlo chuckled. “Yes, it’s an old house, so the garage, kitchen, and ironically Stevie’s room are all street level. I promise I won’t be long.”

“Good,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I’m hungry and I’ll miss you.” 

His cheeks flushed, and he kissed her properly. “Then I won’t keep you waiting.” He disappeared down the stairs, readjusting the apron tied around his waist. Alice admired his ass as he left. 

Alice did as Laszlo suggested and wandered to the parlor. She nibbled on a cracker with brie and thinly sliced apple while she surveyed the room. A heavy, ornate fireplace warmed the room, and she relished its heat. Her sweater and skirt did little to keep her warm. Alice noticed there were no pictures on the mantle, just a television mounted on the wall. It was one of the fancy ones disguised as a landscape painting, complete with a gilded frame. 

Two bookshelves bookended the fireplace, and Alice skimmed through the titles. Some she recognized, like classic novels, whereas the psychological essays and journals were far from her realm of familiarity. Where did he find the time to read, she mused. A record player nestled in the corner, made to look like a vintage gramophone, filled the room with traditional Christmas music. Alice hummed along to the familiar song. Laszlo was a maximalist, filling his home with as much as he could in his eclectic style.

Alice heard footsteps coming up the stairs, so she went to the formal dining room. As she wondered how often Laszlo and Stevie ate there, he answered her silent question.

“We rarely use it, but I wanted tonight to be special.” 

“Please, let me help you,” she offered. Laszlo held a heavy tray laden with plates and bowls with one hand.

“There’s no need,” he insisted, setting it on the table.  “It’s part of why we don’t use the dining room very often.”

“I can imagine, but it looks lovely, Laszlo.” He dressed up the space with formal dinnerware and linens. He lit a candelabra on the table, and pitchers of water and bottles of wine waited to be poured. 

“Thank you.” He blushed again, clearly unused to praise. Alice wanted to make the tinge of pink darker. 

“You’ve put in so much effort, and I appreciate it. You’ve made tonight special and memorable, and we’ve barely begun.” 

Laszlo returned downstairs for the rest of the meal, and Alice stole a glance at what he brought up already. A basket of dinner rolls, small bowls of soup, and salads. This was meant to be the appetizer, and she wondered eagerly what the main course could be. With perfect timing, he brought the entrée: roasted vegetables, seared duck breast with a red wine sauce, and creamy mashed potatoes. 

Once everything was settled on the table, Laszlo could settle himself. He removed his apron revealing a white button-up and a Christmas-themed waistcoat: dark green with white detailing and gold buttons. Laszlo pulled out her seat for her, and then he poured them both a glass of water and a glass of red wine.  

“Please, enjoy. There’s plenty.” He offered her the basket of warm dinner rolls glistening with butter.

Laszlo was an excellent cook, and she was excited to try it. He waited until she tasted it and smiled before he ate anything.  

Over dinner, they reminisced on past Christmases: best presents, worst presents, family drama, vacations. Alice thought long and hard about the best present she ever received and decided it must have been when she got a Barbie dreamhouse. She knew what it was as soon as she saw the gigantic wrapped box by the tree, but her parents made her wait until the end to unwrap it. Laszlo smiled saying he had something similar happen when his parents bought the baby grand piano for the parlor.

“Do you play?” She noticed it, but the keys were covered and the music books were nowhere in sight. If he did, he left no clues. 

“No,” he frowned, “not since I was a young boy.”

Alice didn’t want to upset him, so she did not press it. She found it odd since he was the one who mentioned the piano, to begin with, but this was a happy night. From then on, Laszlo was more inclined to listen to her than share his memories. 

Alice insisted upon helping him clean up after the meal, and Laszlo found it hard to refuse her. He enjoyed simply being near her, and he admitted it was easier with an extra set of hands. Laszlo rinsed the dishes from dinner while Alice unloaded the dishwasher. 

“I wasn’t sure about making Christmas cookies,” Alice confessed.

Laszlo raised an eyebrow in playful alarm. “Why ever not? Your cookies are delectable.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m a one trick pony. You’ve had my cookies before at open house and the conferences, so I thought I should show you something new.”

“But they’re delicious, and I presume gingerbread to fit the season. I’ve not tasted those.”

“Which is why I went with it. You can really only do gingerbread this time of year. But I think next time, I’ll make something totally different.”

“I look forward to it.” Since his hands were covered with soapy water, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Speaking of dessert, do you want it now or do you want to wait?”

Alice smirked. “Well, if dessert is a real kiss, I want it now.” 

How could he refuse? Laszlo kissed her again, his tongue slipping into her mouth. Alice pinned him against the counter, and since her hands were dry she ran them through his hair and rested them at the back of his neck. Laszlo leaned into her touch.

Abruptly, Alice ended their kiss. She stayed close to him, pressed to him. “But if dessert is the cookies, they can wait until we’re watching a movie on the couch.” Laszlo hardly understood what she said. He was too distracted by the way Alice kissed him. She giggled, clearly amused by his love-drunk expression, and smiled. “Come on,” she teased, “let’s finish this up.” Laszlo did not need any more encouragement. 

***

They set out all their gifts on the coffee table along with the platter of cookies and two mugs of hot chocolate. Laszlo insisted on preparing it for them, his recipe using dark chocolate and rich milk to create the most decadent drink. Stevie preferred the instant Swiss Miss powder, no doubt due to his unrefined palette, and Alice surprised Laszlo by asking for a sprinkle of cinnamon and nutmeg. Curious, he had to try it for himself.

Alice shivered once on the couch, so Laszlo found the red knit blanket he kept in the living room and draped it over her shoulders. She looked comfortable like she belonged there.

“Can I go first?” Alice volunteered, “My gifts for you require a little bit of explanation.”

“Well now you must. You’ve piqued my curiosity.”

She handed him one slim box, one wrapped present that could only be a book by its shape and size, and a flat, rectangular box. All were wrapped in delicate blue and white snowflake wrapping paper and finished with silver bows. Laszlo reached for the smallest box first. He tore the paper at the tape and lifted the lid from the box. It was a black and gold fountain pen, weighted in his hand.

“It’s supposed to be smear proof. All the reviews said it was left hand certified.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” He reached for the book next, sliding his thumb under the edge of the wrapping paper. It was a well-read, well-loved paperback copy of her favorite book. Laszlo glanced at her before skimming through the pages. 

“We talked about books before, and how a person’s favorite book can tell you a lot about them, so I thought I would give you my favorite filled with all my thoughts and annotations.” It was a deeply personable gift. Laszlo was shocked, and he immediately tried to give it back to her. “I already bought myself another copy, please, keep it.”

The final present was a rich golden-colored cable knit sweater. Laszlo held it up, modeling what it would look like, and he saw her eyes light up. He would have to wear more gold…

“I had to guess your size, so I put the receipt in the box in case you need to return it or exchange it. But I thought the gold would suit you, and I see I was right.”

“Thank you, darling.” He kissed her cheek again. Laszlo enjoyed seeing her cheeks flush whenever he did. “It’s all so thoughtful.”

“Technically,” Alice said with a sly grin, “there’s one more gift, but you’ll have to wait to unwrap it.”

“Oh?” Laszlo checked the coffee table wondering how he missed it. Alice nodded, removed the blanket from her shoulders, and sat up straight, pushing her plentiful chest out. “Oh!”

Intentionally, her sweater slipped off her shoulder exposing a touch of lace. His eyes followed the movement. “It’s more of an investment, I think, but mutually beneficial.”

“Certainly,” he agreed, unconsciously licking his lips. 

“But not yet.” Alice fixed her sweater and re-wrapped the blanket. Laszlo blinked twice, refocusing on the moment. She knew how to tease him, draw him in, and turn his head all around. It was maddening and enthralling. He thought carefully about the order in which to give his gifts to her. Start small.

“The poinsettias on the table are yours to keep, so long as you keep them away from Georgie. I read they’re not good for cats, so put them somewhere high and out of reach for him.”

“They’re gorgeous, Laszlo, and I appreciate the research. All the other flowers you’ve given me have been Georgie safe, so I’ll have to find somewhere special for these.”

Next was a little gift bag filled with imported German chocolates, the best in his opinion, and cat treats for Georgie. Treats for both of them, he explained, with a sheepish smile at the pun. These were all small gifts, trivial really, but they all brought a smile to her face. It was time to step it up. He handed her a slim, unmarked envelope with two tickets to the Nutcracker, on Christmas Eve no less. 

Alice’s eyes glittered. “I thought this had been sold out for months! How did you get these?”

“I have a box, so I get the first pick of any tickets…” he trailed off. He always bought at least two tickets. In years past, he would take John, Stevie, or John and Sara and play the third wheel. This year, Laszlo would have a date. 

“Fuck off,” Alice said indelicately, but still alluringly to him. “You have a box?”

“I do,” he snickered, “It was my family’s before it became mine.”

“That’s incredible.” She still held the tickets in her hand, looking them over and over. His eyes met hers, a silent question. What are you thinking? “Honestly, I’m trying to think if I have an outfit worthy of this.”

“Whatever you wear, I’m sure it will be divine, and I hope you pair it with this.” He slid his final present over to her: a small jewelry box. 

Tentatively, she set the tickets down and picked up the box. It wasn’t wrapped; Laszlo thought the black velvet spoke for itself. Now he feared it was too much too soon. Jewelry set certain expectations. It announced intention. 

“Oh, Laszlo.” Her thumb rubbed along the edge of the box, and she tilted the necklace and earrings toward the light. “It’s- I don’t know what to say other than thank you.” Alice’s wide eyes met his, and he thought he saw the shadow of a tear.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” The troublesome tear slipped down her cheek when he asked, and more threatened to follow. Given the nature of his work, Laszlo was accustomed to tears, but he did not know what to do when Alice cried.

“You’ve done so much and given me such wonderful gifts,” she tried to steady her voice but was unsuccessful, “and I’m worried I didn’t do enough.”

“Don’t say that,” he rushed to assure her. In the unspoken silence, Laszlo sensed her true fear was that she wasn’t enough. He struggled for words, so he took her hand in his and squeezed it. “You have given me plenty.”

Alice smiled, tears still in her eyes, and nodded to herself. “Thank you, Laszlo, just-” she paused again, registering her hand in his, “Thank you.”

After Alice dried her tears, embarrassed she cried but comforted by Laszlo’s words, they dimmed the lights and turned on a movie. All playful bickering about what to watch stopped when Alice spotted an old stop-motion classic about the year without Santa Claus. She had not seen it in years, but she vividly remembered the song with heat miser and snow miser. Laszlo chuckled and indulged her, selecting the movie and letting the opening credits play. 

She cuddled up next to Laszlo, his arm across her shoulders, and she shared her blanket with him. Alice leaned her head on his chest, and he rested his chin at the top of her head. She was comforted by his slow and steady breathing. Laszlo was a rock: steady and reliable under her. 

Both their hands wandered, appreciative and lingering touches, until the movie was forgotten and Laszlo encouraged her to sit on his lap. Alice hesitated, biting her tongue at a quip about being more than he could handle, but he was insistent and unflinching. She straddled his lap, her already short skirt rising up even further, teasing him with the tops of her thighs. 

“There you are,” Laszlo crooned. He looked less perfect and more like a person. Toussled hair, pink cheeks, sly smile. Alice adored him like this. His hand circled her waist and pulled her closer, eliminating any space between them. His kiss tasted of their drink, rich chocolate with a touch of spice. Alice melted into his touch. Laszlo panted, whining into her mouth as he felt her chest pressing against him.

His hand slipped under the knit of her red sweater and traced the skin underneath. His fingers danced over the clasp of her new bra, her gift just for him to unwrap, asking her permission before advancing any further. She broke their kiss and nodded, a quiet “I want this” escaping her lips. Laszlo needed no more encouragement, and he deftly undid the clasp. She pulled the sweater over her head and tossed it aside. Her nipples pebbled in the sudden chill, and Laszlo was quick to latch himself to her. 

He took one into his mouth, lavishing it with attention, while he cupped her other breast with his hand. Laszlo did not want it to feel unappreciated as he nipped, licked, and pinched. Alice moaned his name and wriggled her hips against him, craving more in the heady heat of the moment. “I want to see you,” she huffed. 

Laszlo paused and drew back. A trail of saliva connected them, and Alice brushed it away with her thumb. “I’m all yours,” he murmured.

Alice hastily unfastened the buttons on his waistcoat and shirt, cursing him for wearing so many layers, but grateful for them too. Laszlo looked good in his layers, coordinated and well-put-together, but she wanted to see underneath his careful clothing choices.  Alice feasted her eyes on a broad chest, dusted with coarse hair and fine freckles, leading down to his soft stomach. Laszlo tipped his head back and groaned when she trailed her hand down his chest.

“Much better.” Pleased, Alice touched Laszlo’s chin and brought his attention back. His eyes were hazy, as if he’d drunk more than a glass of wine, as he studied her form. Laszlo ran an appreciative hand across her body: cupping her breast, holding her waist, and resting on her ass. He kissed her again, his lips wandering from her lips to her jaw, and her collarbone. 

“Laszlo, I-” His phone, forgotten on the coffee table, rang and interrupted her. She turned, glancing at the caller ID, and handed it to him. “It’s Stevie, he’s probably on his way home.”

Laszlo answered and held the phone to his ear. Alice was somewhat relieved he called. She wasn’t sure how much further they were going to go, and she was nervous to broach the topic. This was a natural end to the evening. When she went to move off his lap, he held her there with his right hand. Not firmly, but the surprising and warm touch was enough to keep her there. She slipped her hand over his.

Alice waited until he hung up to speak. “I think it’s time for me to go, Las.” 

“Please, darling, five more minutes.” His hips ground against hers, and his voice was as enticingly sweet as honey. 

“Five minutes, my final Christmas present for you,” she teased.

His lips reattached to hers, and his hand groped her breast. Her hips continued above him, and Laszlo followed every one of her movements. 

Hindered by Laszlo’s request, but hastened by his assistance to redress, Alice left without issue. She promised to text him when she arrived home safe and sound, and he reminded her what time they would leave for the Nutcracker. Laszlo waited for Stevie to return in the kitchen, hoping to ask about his evening before locking the front door and going to bed. 

“Hey,” Stevie entered through the more hidden ground-level door that connected through the garage. He preferred the direct access rather than messing with the front door. It was part of why he chose to live downstairs.

“How was it?” 

“Good,” he shrugged, “Caleb got a new game for us to play, so it took a while to figure out the rules, but it was fun.”

“Did they enjoy the chips?”

“Yeah, yeah, they did.” Stevie glanced at the sink, empty apart from two mugs of hot chocolate. “How was your evening?” 

One mug was still smeared with lipstick, and panic shot through Laszlo. Did he have any of her lipstick on his face? He wished he checked a mirror instead of presuming he looked okay. Laszlo flustered, thinking on the spot.

“Fine. Some people from the psychology department came over for dinner, part of a new tradition they’re trying to start.”

Stevie poured himself a glass of water and stood in front of the fridge. “That’s cool. Any leftovers? ”

“What? They didn’t feed you over there?” Laszlo chuckled, relieved by the change in subject.

“They did, but I’m still hungry. Growing boy and all.” Stevie ate a dinner roll without bothering to microwave it. 

Laszlo rolled his eyes. Ah, the youth. “Goodnight, and don’t forget to lock up.”

“Already did.”

Laszlo meant it when he said, “Good kid.”

***

Two days later, Laszlo picked Alice up from her apartment with a bouquet of pale pink roses. She wore a simple, elegant black dress and shawl. Underneath her silver shawl, Laszlo spotted the simple necklace he gave her and more than one purple hickey. He felt a sense of satisfaction seeing his work.

They arrived early to the theater and worked slowly through the crowds. People acknowledged him — former clients or students — and he stopped for a moment to chat with some of them. His chest puffed up with pride, talking to them with a woman as wonderful as Alice on his arm. She shimmered under the chandeliers.

Finally, Laszlo brought her to his box on the upper level. Alice whispered in his ear she always wondered what the view from the boxes was like rather than general admission. Laszlo promised to take her to more shows in the coming year. They enjoyed the show, her hand clasped in his, and her shawl slipping off her shoulders.

Laszlo asked if she was hungry, too, when they left the theater. Sheepishly, Alice confessed she was. He swung by a fast-food joint, one of the only things open at the late hour on Christmas Eve, and ordered fries and milkshakes. After their midnight snack, they made out like teenagers in the front seat. It was a complete contrast to the formality of their evening, but it was the perfect way to end the night.

taglist: @scuttle-buttle @fictionlandslanddreams @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @hardlyinteresting @sapphiredreamer26 @aedeluca @alycu1 @linkpk88 @rachreads @fandom-princess-forevermore @groovyponypatrollamp @to-fat-to-give-a-crap @kateris-world @eli-the-thinker

[valquiria3000]

I was reading this in class and to tell you just how much effort I had to put on not laughing while reading this, I LOVED THIS, the modern AU fic I didn’t know I needed ❤️❤️❤️

WC: 1829

Rated: M

Tags: humor, adult and sexual humor, detailed descriptions of male genitalia, fluff, married life

A/N: I saw a commercial for this on Facebook and thought it was a joke but it's not apparently. And then I got to talking with @lorna-d-m …. Anyways :)

🩲

The front door shuts and locks with a soft click. You drop your luggage next to the side table, letting out a sigh as you stretch and crack the joints in your stiff neck. After an almost 6 hour flight, plus a 3 hour delay due to bad weather, you were finally back in New York. The townhouse you share with your husband is quiet, dark. Only the soft sounds of Tchaikovsky can be heard wafting from the upstairs home office, leading you to where your Laszlo must be. Looking at your cell phone's clock you see it's nearly 10pm; you know he's eaten dinner by now and is likely just waiting for your impending arrival.

Climbing the stairs you stop and lean on his door frame. Laszlo is concentrated on a book, his brows scrunched and round glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He gives a tiny grunt before writing something in one of his many notebooks.

"Find anything interesting?"

His face pops up from the tome. "Ah! Bärchen, I didn't hear you come in." He marks his page before standing and walking over to you. Laszlo's kiss is warm and comforting, welcoming you home after nearly a week away. His hands find purchase on your waist. "Your flight was smooth I trust?"

"A little turbulence but otherwise it was fine, yeah."

"And the conference?"

"A lot of fun - I'll have to take you with me next year. I'm sure you'll get a kick out of some of the lecturers and their crazy ideas about collective psyche and social movements." You roll your eyes in good humor.

Laszlo leans in once more, his lips brushing delicately against yours. He quickly deepens the kiss. You can feel the way his body presses closer to you, a subtle firmness along your hip. Before things can get too heated you break away to look into his amber eyes. "As much as I would love to... make up for lost time," you give him a pout, "I'm exhausted and just want to shower and go to bed." You level him with your best puppy dog look as a means to apologize for killing the moment.

Laszlo chuckles. "There is nothing to apologize for, my dear. Having you back in my arms is more than enough for me." He steps back, using his left hand to gently guide you from where you lean and into the hall towards your bedroom. You beeline for the ensuite bathroom, your husband a few steps behind in the bedroom finding you something clean to change into. "Have you had a chance to eat something?" he calls to you.

His question reminds you that in your desperation to return to your loving husband and wash off the day you neglected to actually eat more than the paltry bag of airplane pretzels. As if on cue your stomach growls. You lean your head back towards the bedroom as you pull a fresh towel from the closet. "No, I figure I'll shower and then whip up a little something before bed."

"Allow me."

You turn to look back at him as you continue to set up the shower, removing your traveling clothes in the process. "Oh no Laz it's okay, I can do it-"

He levels you with a look before cutting you off "-and I, your husband, am offering to make dinner for my wife, whom I love."

Clicking your tongue against your cheek you simply nod in acquiescence.

The hot spray loosens your tense muscles. Next time you had to fly out any longer than 2 hours you were definitely going to take up your husband’s suggestion to fly first class. He'd offered you the upgrade when you first planned your trip, but you'd simply shrugged and said it wasn't necessary, that you'd rather him spend the money on treating you to a nice date when you got home instead. Boy how your body hated you for that now...

You wash away the day of traveling and quickly follow with your usual skin care routine after. The steamy room keeps you warm under your fluffy towel, but all you want is to throw on one of his old t-shirts and slide under the silk sheets of your shared bed.

Opening the door you spot a plate of grilled cheese waiting for you on the bed. You waste no time making yourself comfortable on the end of the bed and digging in to the crispy, gooey, buttery sandwich. Moaning around the bite you shovel as much as you can fit into your gullet the second go. Laszlo isn't here as you finish the first sandwich.

Three bites into the second grilled cheese he enters the room. Holding your hand to cover your mouth you mumble out "thank you." His answer is a kiss to your head. You swallow. "You know I'll never figure out how you learned to make the perfect grilled cheese?" You tear off a chunk to pop in his mouth as he stands before you.

"A secret I'll never tell," he winks, leaving you to go change for bed.

You grin around a mouthful. "Well as long as you keep making them for me I'll be perfectly content to never know."

Laszlo exits the closet in his dark robe, the ties undone and the glorious expanse of his chest and abdomen on display for your wandering eyes. Gaze trailing along the line of chest hair from top to bottom you stop in your tracks when you reach his shorts. A pair of obnoxiously plaid boxer briefs hug his hips and thighs. What really gets your attention as he walks past you? What sticks out between his legs.

For fucks sake you had to be imagining things.

You blink quickly. You knew Laszlo was gifted, so to speak. He was the biggest you'd ever been with by far. There were no complaints from you; above average size and he knew how to use it? A+, top of the class. But the absolutely massive bulge that protrudes from his crotch currently?

It's obscene.

There's no way you're seeing clearly! Maybe you just forgot what his dick looks like? How long were you away for? Did he take something? Are you jetlagged? Is it possible to forget the size of your husband’s penis if you go too long without seeing it? Your mind races as it tries to piece together what you think you just saw.

You must be making quite the face, as the next thing you know Laszlo is looking down at you with concern. "- are you alright?" He waves his fingers in front of your slackjawed face.

Starting blankly at him for a second you finally reply with an extremely eloquent "... what?"

"You don't look well, are you alright?"

Oh. Right.

"Uh…." You gather your wits, looking back at his boxers as he stands before you. Not only are they plaid, but right on said crotch is a picture of mistletoe - if you weren't in such a state of confusion you would've found the pun to be funny. "What the fuck are you wearing and why is your dick so big?!" blurts out before you can stop yourself. Your hand claps over your mouth.

You both immediately share a look; eyebrows to your hairline as if to say 'wow I can't believe what you just said'. With a blink he looks down at himself and proceeds to give a soft "oh".

"I'm so sorry I don't... uh…" your voice gives out on its feeble explanation. What a thing to say to your husband, questioning the size of his manhood, you lament at your awkwardness. Then it clicks. You've seen those before, several months ago. "Wait wait wait…. are those the-" your words are cut by a small giggle "- are those the gag gift I got you for Christmas last year with the little-?" you hold your hand up to mimic a cupping motion.

You had seen the underwear on Facebook and thought the whole concept was some sort of joke; boxer briefs with a built in "hammock" that held everything up like a "push-up bra for your jingle balls" the ad proclaimed. The whole thing was too hilarious, so naturally you bought a pair for your husband as a joke knowing he would never wear them. And so to the back of the closet they went, until now that is.

"Ah….well," he clears his throat. His left hand comes to scratch along his bearded jaw. Laszlo meets your eyes finally, his cheeks redder than a tomato; "I fell behind on laundry while you were away."

You bite your lip to stifle the smile threatening to break your face. "So instead of doing laundry you dug those out? Laz oh my god! They have mistletoe right on your-"

"- Yes I know," he finishes for you. "If I recall it was you that bought them to begin with."

"Yeah but I just wanted to see you blush, I didn't think you'd actually wear them ever!" Pulling him closer you stand him between your legs from where you sit. The material is soft. With a finger you push just under the waistband, pulling back and letting it snap against his hip. He gives a soft grunt.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

You raise a single eyebrow at him. "How do they feel? You know," you gesture downward with your chin.

He licks his lips briefly. "To be honest," he pauses, "they are some of the most comfortable bottoms I've ever worn," he finishes quietly, as if reluctant to admit how much he likes them.

Humming in amused satisfaction you add "and you look fantastic in them, it really brings out-" you wave your open palm over the general area between his hips before concluding with "-the color of your eyes." The smirk is full force as you watch him cringe at your tease. "What more could a girl want? But Jesus you're huge."

Laszlo scoffs, his face burning an even darker shade of red. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips, despite him trying to remain stoic at your compliments. "I do believe it's time for bed," he deflects and pulls away from you, effectively ending your ribbing. Shedding the robe he situates himself under the covers and gives you an expectant look.

"All I'm saying is I'm a very lucky woman." You join him in bed.

The two of you lay curled into one another in a peaceful quiet for several minutes. The calm of the dark bedroom and the exhaustion of your week has finally caught up with you. In the first pulls of sleep you whisper out "Hey Laz?"

"Yes my dear?"

Not one to let go of your mischievousness so easily, you say "if you like them so much I can always get you some more." You yawn. "But maybe not ones with mistletoe on the crotch. That's for my eyes only."

Click here to read part 2- Clean Laundry

___

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @that-one-fandom-kid @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @uncomfortablebagel @rachelicouss @wisia02 

Tag list 

[spockiguess]

The Alienist Fic Suggestion

Hey, guys! Sorry for dropping off of the face of the earth again, I fear I'm plagued with the "Fanfic Writer Curse" which sends its victims into horrible circumstances for no true reason. I will be resuming The Evangelical Counsels/Laszlo Kreizler fic, but how would you guys feel about a oneshot similar to that one? Wherein the reader is still a nun working at an orphanage, but...LAZSLO IS A VAMPIRE!!!?

I watched Nosferatu (2024) and Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) in quick succession, and I want something as painfully erotic as the ladder with Lazslo Kreizler being the star. Let me know your thoughts!

[the-ravening]

Fic: A Suitable Course of Treatment (Laszlo Kreizler/Bucky Barnes)

Wrote a little Laszky PWP for @tales-from-a-maphia-don. Happy birthday!! 🥳❤️

Fandoms: The Alienist/TFATWS crossover

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler/Bucky Barnes

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2k

Tags: Teen Bucky, age difference, dubcon, doctor/patient, period typical homophobia, conversion therapy but in a gay porn way, handjobs, PWP, glasses kink

Summary:

Young Bucky is sent to Dr. Kreizler to be treated for his unnatural urges. As it turns out, the doctor has some unconventional methods.

Read on AO3!

[somethingthatsaysbubbles]

It’s been two years omg, I remember the Laszlo fic first coming out… well sort of, you were towards the last few chapters the first time we met.

Damn, it really has been like two years since I wrote that, hasn't it?

I'm not gonna lie, Anon, I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with The Ripping Case of Ms. Delia Rodwick. I took a risk and played around with alliteration; the language is a lot more poetic than my normal writing-style, so I have a hard time reading it back. I often think that it was too much, that "I need to go back and fix it," or "nobody actually liked/likes this," but then I remember that is has 160+ notes. People asked to be added to the taglist, and they left such nice, encouraging comments on A03 and Tumblr. I also remember how much fun I had with my little experiment—how much joy I felt writing it, how frustrated I felt while editing it, and how much I learned about what kind of writer I want to be/what kind of stories I want to tell. So,

Do I think it's the best Laszlo fic ever written? No.

Will I always struggle with confidence issues when it comes to my writing? Probably.

Do I regret writing it? No.

Am I grateful you read it, presumably enjoyed it, and was it worth writing for that reason alone? Absolutely.

Thank you for inviting me to take a little stroll down memory lane, Anon. <3 Happy Holidays!

[carisi-barba]

anyone still writing Laszlo Kreizler fanfics/imagines?

[starlightsearches]

9, 17, 20 and 38 from the smut prompts with laszlo?? I’m sorry if that’s too many, they’re just sooo good!!

Feel Me

Wowowowow friend, those are some excellent choices! I tried to work them all in here for you, but I did have to edit a couple of them to keep the flow. Hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 🥰

9 / 17 / 20 / 38 from the Smut Prompt List

Laszlo Kreizler x femme! reader

Warnings: smut (18+ only), kind of dark! laszlo, soft dom! laszlo, gendered terms for the reader, vaginal fingering, infidelity, inexperienced reader, shame, period-typical sexism, mentions of bad sex, inappropriate power dynamics (doctor/patient), i don't know how victorian undergarments are supposed to work, maybe it's a little ooc? I have no idea. Let me know if I missed anything!

Dr. Kreizler has his face between your legs.

With you skirt pulled up over your knees, his breath brushes against your parted thighs and your face burns with shame. You're not bare—your dress still offers plenty of coverage—but without your undergarments you might as well be nude.

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes; you just barely resist the urge to force your legs closed, shutting out him and this soulless exam room and the knowledge that you're sitting here, waiting for a man who is not your husband to look at the most sensitive part of you and tell you exactly why you're broken.

"And when did the problems start?" he asks, standing. You relax your legs, pushing your skirt back down over your ankles.

"Since we've been married," you tell him. Dr. Kreizler strolls leisurely around the exam table, but you keep your eyes in your lap.

Your husband has been very patient with you, even after six months of marriage, yet every night is still an exercise in embarrassment. He’s become tired of you trying and failing to feel something, to react to your his hands the way you should, instead of counting your breaths and waiting for it to be over.

And who could blame him?

"There's been no improvement?"

You shake your head, unable to speak past tears pooling in your lashes.

His hand rests on your shoulder, thumb stroking softly over the juncture of your neck—a comforting gesture that still manages to put you on edge, setting your skin alight beneath the sleeve of your dress.

"I'd like to try something else," he says, voice always smooth, like a rich piece of chocolate, or velvet under your fingers, "I want you to tell me how it feels when I rest my hand in different places on your body. Can you do that for me?"

Your heartbeat quickens, but you nod. Dr. Kreizler would never hurt you.

"How does this feel?" he asks, and he shifts his thumb higher, until he reaches skin, and your pulse thrums beneath the press of his finger.

"It feels . . . alright."

He nods, stepping around to the other side, letting his hand trail down over your sleeve, until his palm is covering the back of your hand.

"And this?"

His eyes are on the spot where your hands meet, so analytical as he observes the contact, but your eyes are on him.

He has such a handsome face. You've always thought so, since the day your husband introduced you—the handsome, lonely Dr. Kreizler with his soft eyes and penchant for the opera. And you loved your husband—of course you did—but there were still times when you'd find the doctor's eyes on you across a crowded dining room or party, and the electric feeling of his notice would stay with you long after you and your husband had retired for the evening.

"Fine."

It feels better than fine, the slightest chill traveling across your skin as he strokes the tip of his finger over the ridges in your knuckles, the delicate bones on the inside of your wrist.

He hums in casual response. "Is it good when I touch you here?"

He presses his hand against your stomach, with more force than the other touches, just below the swell of your breast. The weight is pleasant, and the proximity even more so, his face much closer than before, eyes cataloguing each subtle shift in your expression.

"It is."

His gaze flashes to your lips before meeting your eyes again. A single strand of hair falls across his forehead, just brushing the tip of his nose.

"And what about," he leans in, closer still, hot breath caressing your cheek, "this."

His hand slips between your thighs, bunching the fabric of your dress against your bare cunt.

"Dr. Kreizler," your hand grips his wrist, but you're unsure what to do once with it once it's there. You could—should—push him away, but the pressure is surprising, and the slight shift of his fingers and the ripples they send through the fabric feels . . . good.

He hushes you with a stern glare, making no effort to remove his hand, grip like iron compared to your own.

"Laszlo. You'll call me Laszlo in private."

"Laszlo," you correct yourself without a thought, "my husband, he'll—"

"Your husband," he spits the word with an uncanny venom, grinding the heel of his hand more forcefully against the sensitive spot between your thighs," is a fool—blaming his inadequacies in sex on an undeserving wife. He sent you to me because he believes you cannot feel his pawing hands and pathetic thrusts, but you can feel, leibling, just as well as any woman. You can feel me."

He's right. You can.

He has such talented fingers—hands that would be right at home on piano prodigy—coaxing a sinful heat in your core despite the layers of fabric.

“How does this feel, leibling? Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels—“

How does feel? It's wholly unfamiliar—the desperate shift of your hips against his hand, the pleasant fog at the corners of your vision and the edges of your mind. It feels like everything you've ever wanted, like the long-awaited opening of a maddeningly locked door.

"I— Laszlo, I need more."

He leans in closer, close enough that his lips almost brush yours, and for a moment you think he might kiss you. You hope he might kiss you.

"Lift up your skirt," he whispers instead.

You have the hem in your hands a moment later, raising it eagerly until your balled fists rest in the middle of your thighs, and your momentum fails. Despite everything you've already done, there's no getting past this indecency on your own.

"So shy, now, schatz? Moments ago you were humping my hand and now this is all you can give me? Perhaps I should inform your idiotic husband that no more treatment will be necessary. Perhaps, you've already been cured. Would you like to go back to him so soon, pet?"

"No," panic flares, and the hem of your dress bares another inch of your skin, but it's the warmth of his hand on your thigh that convinces you to lift it the rest of the way, lifting your hips out of the seat, flinching at the cold material of the exam table against your bare ass.

"Good girl," he coos, taking your chin between his fingers, "now, kiss me properly."

Your lips part, and his eyes are still open when he presses a gentle peck to your lips, closing them only when you kiss him back.

Oh my. It's nothing like any kiss you've had, in your limited experience. The chaste kisses you shared with your husband after your engagement had their own kind of thrill—the thrill of an imagined fairy tale, of a promised happily ever after. The naïeveté wore off rather quickly, after your failure to perform your other wifely duties.

Kissing Laszlo isn't like that at all. There's a quiet passion behind tender movement of his lips, not out of duty, but desire. His hand cups you, without force but still secure, determined to keep you against him as long as you'll let him.

Your eyes don't open automatically when you pull back, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks, and so you don't see the look on his face as he brushes his thumb over your skin, before pressing the tips of his fingers against your parted and swollen lips.

"Open," he comands, and you're so pliant for him, opening wide enough for his fingers to disappear into your wet mouth all the way to the second knuckle before you respond with a soft gag at the pressure.

"I'm sorry, liebling, I'm sorry," he shushes you, so gentle, pulling back just enough to allow your tongue some movement between his digits, "I need my them nice and wet before I tease that aching cunt of yours. Suck on my fingers, now."

You do as he asks, hollowing your cheeks and tightening your lips. You shouldn't be doing this—shouldn't be sinking to such base acts, not when you have a husband at home and a spotless reputation and a last name that everyone in New York knows.

It's no use. You couldn't stop now, not when Laszlo is looking at you with those soft, irreverent eyes. You'd walk through fire if he asked it.

His fingers escape your lips with a soft pop, shiny with spit. You watch his hand disappear between your legs again, and your heart thumps more heavily in your chest. It's getting harder to breathe.

"There we are, liebling," he praises you, stroking your outer folds with his moistened fingers, spreading the slick across your cunt, just barely brushing your clit.

The shock of pleasure jumps through your chest, your back arching slightly off the exam table, lips parting with a violent breath.

Laszlo smirks. "And he thinks you can't feel."

Your husband's mistakes are becoming clearer with each stroke of his fingers—their gentle circles around your tender clit, or the teasing press at your entrance.

"You're getting so wet for me, pet," he comments, stretching your entrance little by little with one circling finger. "I think you're ready for more of me."

You nod, grateful your soft moans are keeping your mouth too busy to beg.

He slips his middle finger inside of you, and it's already a thousand times better than anything you've experienced in your marital bed. The gentle stretch, the way he curves his finger against your tender front wall while his thumb works steadily at your clit—it has you reaching heights you had never thought would be available to you.

"Please, Laszlo, please," you paw at his chest, trying to grab hold of his jacket, looking for leverage, but your hands are weak, your body much too concerned with the rapturous glow overtaking your cunt to function properly.

You'll have to beg then, instead. "Please, kiss me again. Please."

He chuckles, his wrist working more ardently until you can hardly hear him over the wetness between your legs.

"Not yet. I need to see you cum first. I want to watch you unravel for me."

He slips another finger inside of you without ceremony, and your eyes roll back in your head, vision going dark.

The movement of his fingers is nothing short of marvelous, scissoring back and forth, punctuated by the occasional deep thrust that has your hips lifting from the seat and stars in your eyes.

His voice reaches you even in the deepest trenches of your pleasure.

"It's alright, liebling, you can let go. Cum for me."

And you do, sunken beyond a point of return, emerging on the other side in a flare of bright light, the spasming of your cunt sending shards of it through your body with every stroke against your raw and aching clit.

"Look how good you are for me," he whispers, pulling his fingers from your core as the contractions subside, brushing his wet fingers across your hairline.

He kisses you tenderly, his hand—still sticky with your spend—cupping your cheek. Your legs shake from your release, but it would be impossible not to kiss him back.

He pulls away, cleaning his fingers on a nearby cloth before brushing his hair back into place, slipping back into his doctor's persona as easily as he'd slipped out of it.

"Tell your husband that you'll need regular treatment for the foreseeable future. Perhaps once a week."

You nod, pulling your skirt back down into place before you stand from the exam table. You're unsteady on your feet, swaying dangerously, and he takes you with a hand on your arm, pulling you in tight against his chest.

"The next time he touches you, schatz," he says to you, speaking right up against the shell of your ear, and the sin in his words makes you shiver, "make sure you're thinking of me."

[andy-15-07]

Daniel Brühl Masterlist

A Love Unscripted- Daniel Brühl

The News- Baron Helmut Zemo

[phoenix--quill]

Prompt 27: Caught in the act

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler/female reader

Rating: M (minors DNI!!)

Warnings: fingering, semi-public sex, interrupted sex

Length: 1.100 words

Summery: Perhaps the library of the Kreizler Institute is not the best place for an exploration of the female g-spot

Notes: Second entry in my kinktober and I’ve tried my hand at writing in 2nd person (which I actually like a lot for blank-slate characters). Feel free to tell me what you think and which you prefer

AO3

You weren’t quite sure how a discussion on female anatomy had lead to this moment but here you sat, on the large table in the library of the Kreizler Institute, with the famed doctor’s good hand between your legs.

You had been dancing around each other for months – a furtive look here, a flirtatious remark full of double meaning there – as you assisted the doctor in his investigations, working side-by-side with himself, John Moore and Sara Howard.

“Laszlo,” you cried out against the collar of his expensive white shirt as he added another slender finger inside you, stretching your walls while your body still longed for more.

“Relax into it,” he instructed gently and you could tell he was still trying to tell himself this was for educational purposes, though his flushed cheeks and hard breathing rather betrayed his feelings on the situation.

You nodded absent-mindedly as you buried your face in his neck, inhaling the softly spiced scent of whatever oil he used on his beard. For a moment you could focus solely on the feeling of his fingers pumping slowly in and out of you, his soft beard against your cheek and his clothed chest so impossibly close to your own, it felt like your corset had been laced too tightly. Then he crooked his fingers ever so slightly and angled his thrust more outwards and your mind blanked as whatever spot he hit caused white hot pleasure to shoot through you like lightning.

A voice in the back of your mind reminded you that there were still others walking about the building and you quickly bit down on his lapel, lest you let out the embarrassingly loud moan that was currently lodged in your throat. A low whimper still managed to escape you as you curled further into his chest, your hands moving from where they had sat on his shoulders since this whole thing began to the inside of his jacket, stroking up and down his sides and back, as the need to feel him ran through your pleasure-addled mind.

“Do you feel the difference?” he asked softly against your temple and you barely had the wherewithal to nod as he continued his ministrations against that special spot inside of you.

You felt his nose bury into your hair, his breathing filling your ear, and the thought that despite your compromising position he had yet to kiss you filled your mind as his ministrations continued between your thighs. You weren’t sure if he would welcome such an advance from you; despite your current situation, the two of you were not courting and you were unsure of your current activities were fuelled by romantic attraction or simply lust. Well, from his side anyway, you knew your feelings however hard you had tried to bury them; you had felt an attraction to him from the moment you had met. You had to at least try.

“Laszlo,” you stuttered out again as you moved to nuzzle against his beard before moving further up. You kissed the corner of his mouth before making eye contact, desperately trying to gauge his response.

His normally dark chocolate eyes were now almost completely black, his pupils were blown wide, and a faint blush filled his cheeks as he looked down at you, taking in your probably just as flushed face.

The two of you locked eyes for what seems an eternity though it could have been no more than mere seconds and you swore you could see the internal debate raging inside his mind. Then he surged forward, catching your lips between his own and swallowing the moan that fell from your lips. The urgency of his kiss took you by surprise and it was all you could do to follow along as he ran his soft lips along your own before slipping his tongue inside your mouth, all the while his fingers seemed to have slipped even further inside you. You felt both overwhelmed and on the cusp of exploding as you slipped one hand into his hair, ruffling its previously neat appearance, and leaned further into the kiss, needing him even closer. Pleasure rolled through you, as you felt like you were both on fire and drowning at the same time. Laszlo’s presence seemed all around you, inside of you, as his fingers picked up speed, his lips never leaving yours and even his weaker hand gently squeezing you leg.

“Doctor Kreizler, I found…”

“OUT!” Laszlo’s voice rang out loudly in the previous silent library and you heard the door behind you slam shut – and realised that you had failed to hear it open in the first place, too wrapped up in your own pleasure.

Both of you stilled and he withdrew his hand rather forlornly, finding a handkerchief to wipe his fingers on. His methodical movements and refusal to meet you eyes made you curl in on yourself and you wondered what he was thinking: did he hate you for having put him this position? His reputation was already precarious and rumours of him seducing women and taking advantage of them within the Institute could only do more harm.

Your thoughts seemed to spiral and you didn’t even notice when he turned back to you, regarding you nervously.

“They did not see anything.” His quiet voice made you look up and you seemed to once again get lost in his soft, comforting eyes.

“Of course.” Your voice sounded hoarse and you had to break eye contact when you felt hot tears well up.

With still trembling hands, you fixed the skirt of your dress and made to move off of the table when he spoke again: “Maybe you would like to accompany me to the opera tonight?” Your head snapped up at his hesitant tone. “John will be there too. Although he usually gets bored partway through.” You had rarely seen the doctor look unsure of himself and he quickly looked away and started organising a stack of books that had sat on the table beside you.

“I. I would love that,” you managed, your voice still sounded strange to your own ears but you felt a smile break out on you face.

He nodded and flashed you a small smile of his own before going back to his books. “It’s settled then. I will have a carriage sent for tonight.”

“Until tonight then,” you said, unable to stop the smile from growing and you quickly made your discreet exit from the library and soon found yourself on the bustling streets of New York. Perhaps this hadn’t been a totally failed experiment.

[lorna-d-m]

Chapter Six: Communication

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x fem!OC (Alice Greene)

Summary: Professor Laszlo Kreizler is a workaholic. Between teaching university courses, running the Kreizler Institute, and minding Stevie -his ward-, he does not have time for relationships. That is until he meets Ms. Greene, Stevie's English teacher, at open house. Can he open his heart to the possibility of love?

Word Count: 4,060

W: mentions of bullying/hazing, sexually suggestive content

A/N: I have been enduring unending struggle after struggle this semester, so I'm sorry this took a while.

previous chapter

Golden light filtered through Laszlo’s office window. One of Rachmaninov’s symphonies played softly over his computer speaker, and he graded student essays with a fine-tipped red pen. A soft knock on the door broke him from his focus which he did not mind given the poor quality of the writing. Alice stood in the doorway, two coffees in hand, and a smile a mile wide. 

“What a surprise.” He pushed the stack of papers away and leaned back in his chair. 

She shut the heavy door. Her hips shimmied in a way Laszlo knew was meant to entice him. It worked. “I thought you could use a little afternoon pick-me-up.” 

“From you? Always.”

Alice handed Laszlo his coffee, no cream or sugar, and sat on his desk. She crossed her legs, her skirt riding up her thighs, and took a sip from her drink. Laszlo looked up at her, admiring everything he saw, and set his coffee to the side. He didn’t need it when he had her. 

His hand ran along her calf prompting her to re-cross her legs. Laszlo’s eyes flicked back and forth, torn between the mischievous glint in her eye and her plush thighs. Alice leaned down, her chest eye level with him, and cupped one of his cheeks with her hand. Her fingers played with his beard, and he nuzzled into her touch. He took a deep breath smelling her floral perfume, his forgotten coffee, and the old books in his office. Divine.  

She kissed his forehead, and then she leaned back on the old oak desk. Entranced, Laszlo stood. He was a sunflower yearning for the sun. She spread her legs, and he stood between her thighs clasping her waist. Standing, he was a touch taller than her, changing the angle between them. He kissed her, tasting the cinnamon sweetness on her tongue, and searching for more. 

“Oh, Laszlo,” she pulled away from his kiss, but her hand laid on his chest over his heart. “Are you sure? Anyone could come into your office, and I would hate for us to be interrupted.” Alice played coy, but Laszlo knew better. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Darling, you’ll be the only one coming in my office today. I promise.”

Laszlo pushed down the turtleneck of her sweater and kissed her neck. Impulsively, he wanted to leave a mark she would need to hide with another sweater. He cupped her breast, feeling the faint outline of lace under the knit, and he tugged on her sweater. It came loose from being tucked into her skirt, and he moved his hand under it. His thumb grazed the delicate lace, and he let out an appreciative chuckle.

“Please, Laszlo” she whispered in his ear, “more.”  

He clicked his tongue. “Greedy girl, aren’t you? Patience, and I will give you more.” Laszlo sank to his knees, and he guided her glorious thighs over his shoulders. He tugged at her lace underwear, and he wondered if it matched her bra. Alice giggled above him and wove her fingers into his hair, pulling him ever closer, not that he needed any encouragement. He lazily kissed each of her thighs, intent on leaving marks there too—

Laszlo woke with a start. Sweat clung to his flushed skin and shirt despite the late fall chill in his room. He was sticky with precome and tangled in the sheets. Laszlo groaned and ran a hand through his bedraggled hair. He didn’t need a doctorate in psychology to know the meaning of a sex dream. 

A cool breeze blew the long linen curtains, and a pale morning light filled the room. Glancing at his alarm clock, because he preferred the old-fashioned alarm clock to his phone, he knew he had a few minutes. For a moment, he thought about finishing the fantasy. Laszlo could easily imagine the ending, lapping at her until his beard was soaked with her, but he hesitated. 

With a groan that Stevie would certainly tease and call “an old man’s groan”, Laszlo left his comfortable bed. He rummaged through his bedside drawer for the pack of cigarettes he unsuccessfully hid from himself and shrugged on his warm robe. Laszlo didn’t have sex, but he still craved a cigarette. Only one, he promised himself, then he would shower and dress for the day. 

“Cheers!” Bitsy and Alice clinked their glasses together. Adorable, tiny rubber ducks floated in their mimosas, and despite the restaurant’s warning about a dollar charge for taking the ducklings, both women fully intended to slip them into their purses before leaving. 

“It feels like forever since I saw you! How was your trip?” Alice set her phone to the side and clasped her hands in front of her. A few weeks back during one of their planning periods, Bitsy booked the excursion. Alice joked she was planning, just not lessons or teaching. Over the three-day fall break, Bitsy and Lucius went upstate to a bed and breakfast, with the best reviews and amenities. 

“Amazing,” she sighed dramatically. “I’m so glad we did it. You know how everyone talks about going somewhere to see the leaves change colors and go apple picking?”

Alice grinned, imagining the leisurely autumnal weekend. “Yes, of course.”

Bitsy spilled all the details while they waited for their food. They took a gorgeous vintage-styled train upstate much to Lucius’s delight. She showed pictures and videos of the views and laughed recounting their apple-picking and cider-making misadventures. Apparently, both were more difficult than they seemed. Their bed and breakfast was a quaint cottage with a main hall for meals, and a precious elderly couple hosting. She raved about the cider donuts Linda made and passed the recipe along to Alice. 

“And you? How are things with the doctor? Or does he prefer the professor?”

“Please, you know I call him Laszlo.”

“Uh-huh, I just like to tease you, and by default him. So, how are things with you and Laszlo?” The waitress brought over their food, so Alice waited until they were settled to answer. 

“Well, without getting my hopes up,” Bitsy rolled her eyes, “it’s wonderful.” Alice blushed and not because of the mimosa. 

On their first date, he picked her up from her apartment with a bouquet of camellias. As soon as she commented they were cat-safe flowers, meaning she could place them on the coffee table without worrying about Georgie eating them, Laszlo produced a bag of cat treats from his coat pocket. He didn’t want Georgie to feel left out, he explained. Alice noted his thoughtfulness and attention to detail. 

Laszlo took her to dinner, as he promised at the conference, at Delmonico’s. Alice had never been, but Laszlo assured her it was his favorite restaurant. She could tell when the owner and the waitstaff greeted him by name, asking if he wanted his usual table, and bringing a complimentary bottle of wine. Alice was prepared to pay for her meal, but Laszlo insisted saying he should since he invited her.

Alice gently moved her drink from side to side to see the rubber duck move. “It feels silly to say, but I think we’re courting rather than dating.” 

“I guess that’s what happens when you date an older man,” Bitsy giggled, taking another sip of her drink.

“Shut up,” Alice couldn’t hold back a laugh either, “you know I have a type, but I’m serious. He’s been such a gentleman. Like he always brings me flowers or chocolates or coffee or something. And he brings something for Georgie too, I swear he has more toys and treats than I’ve ever bought him.”

“So how has he topped your first date?”

 Alice responded when she finished chewing her latest bite. Her sandwich was almost too good to put down, but she wanted to answer. “We’ve done a few more dinners, some after an event or some just because that’s what we could schedule. You know that cute little art museum a few blocks from here? We did that and had lunch last weekend, and he wants to go to the history museum soon too.”

“Wow, the history museum. Sexy.”

“You’re laughing, but it’s so sexy when he reads the little placards and stands there analyzing it, rubbing his beard in thought. Then he asks me what I think and we talk about it before moving on. And, Bits, museums mean he always dresses nice, too, like suits or sweaters.”

“Listen babe, I tease you, but you seem genuinely so happy. Better than I’ve seen you in months, easily. It sounds like he treats you well, and he should continue to do so if he knows what’s good for him.”

“He does, he really does. Did I tell you what happened when we left the art museum?”

“No, what?”

“Well, I stupidly didn’t check the weather that morning when I got ready, but obviously he did because he brought this giant umbrella. Laszlo left it in the lobby while we walked around, and of course when we went to leave it was an absolute downpour. The restaurant we wanted to try was only two blocks away, so we planned to walk.”

“Of course,” Bitsy commented between bites.

“So he gets out his umbrella, and it’s big enough for the both of us. Laszlo held it, and we walked arm in arm down the street in the rain. I felt like I was in an old Hollywood movie and we should start singing in the rain.”

“Adorable, and you should have.”

“Well,” Alice demurred, “we were so close together, arm in arm so you know we were kinda pressed against each other. I could smell his cologne, and Bits, I swear to God it felt like pheremones to me. We made out under that umbrella until the rain stopped.”

Laszlo knew he sounded like a technology-hating curmudgeon, but he preferred calling to texting. Of course, with their busy and ever-changing schedules, texting was far more convenient. However, Laszlo savored anytime Alice called him and he could hear her voice.

Typically, they talked after he ate dinner with Stevie and while she cooked her meal. Laszlo chided her for eating so late, but the timing was convenient. He could slip into his room or his office when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket without arousing undue suspicion. 

“What are you cooking tonight?” Laszlo heard the steady hum of a stovetop ventilation fan and a beeping timer. 

That was another advantage of the phone, or even better, FaceTime. There was so much more ambiance when he could hear or see. Sometimes he could spot Georgie or hear him meowing in the background. Laszlo felt he was there, despite the distance, and he could get a glimpse of her evening. It was almost domestic. 

“Pasta, hence the fan, and some chicken in the oven. I think it’s almost done, but I want to give it a few more minutes to be sure.”  

“Be careful,” he cautioned, “I know you’re worried about undercooking it, but you don’t want dry chicken either.”

“Yes chef,” she teased. “What about you? When are you going to cook for me instead of giving me advice?”

Laszlo leaned against the balcony railing and hummed in thought. He wondered that himself, but he didn’t have an easy answer. “I’m not sure, with Stevie, I-”

“-It’s okay. I would love to have you cook for me sometime, but I know with Stevie it’s more complicated. We can take our time.” 

“I appreciate it. Maybe I could cook for you in your apartment? We could have a nice night in.”

“I’d like that.” 

By now they had a routine. Laszlo would tell her about his day while she ate, and once she finished she would tell him about hers. They laughed at the similarities between her high school freshman and his college freshman. 

“Do you know what I heard today?” His students always assumed he couldn’t hear them, a fallacy of their youth. 

He could hear her setting her dishes in the sink. “What?”

“One of them said I must have ‘gotten laid recently because there wasn’t as much of a stick up my ass’.” Alice snorted, trying not to laugh. “It’s okay; it’s funny. You can laugh.”

“Mine told me something similar, but not like that. They said I must be in ‘looooove’ because I’m smiling more.” 

Laszlo rocked on his heels. “What do you think?”

“I-” she hesitated, and Laszlo instantly regretted his question. He was known for prying and pushing, and he feared it was too soon. 

“-You don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked-” Laszlo pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched his eyebrows. 

“It’s okay, Laszlo. You didn’t push me too much.” He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “I wouldn’t say I’m in love, yet, but I know I’m happier. What about you?”

“I feel the same.” Laszlo was glad she couldn’t see his cheesy smile.

November was chilly, even with a proper jacket. Stevie shivered and waited outside by the car line for Laszlo. Being late was unusual, so after fifteen minutes Stevie texted him. No response. At half an hour, Stevie called him.

On the last ring before going to voicemail, Laszlo picked up the phone. He immediately apologized, saying he didn’t realize what time it was and he was in the middle of an important meeting. 

“Will you be here soon?” Stevie glanced at the already fading sunlight and emptying parking lot. Laszlo paused, and from that alone Stevie knew the truth. “If you can’t, can you send Mr. Moore or Ms. Howard?”

“I need to get back to my meeting. Try Moore first, and again, I’m sorry.” Laszlo hung up quickly, barely giving Stevie time to think. He huffed a sigh and pulled up Moore’s contact information. Stevie decided to text him first: Doc’s in a meeting. Can you pick me up?

As Stevie waited for a response, he rubbed up and down his arm to warm up. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he eagerly checked. I can, but it could be half an hour to forty-five minutes. Is that okay?

Stevie thought it was better than nothing. He texted back that it was alright, and he thanked him. Since there were still cars in the parking lot, Stevie bet there were still teachers or other staff inside the warm building. He wandered down the main hallway, wondering if he should sit right there, in the library, or find an empty classroom. As he debated this, someone called out his name. His head flicked up, trying to find them. 

Ms. Greene stood at the door of the teacher work room with a stack of papers in hand. Stevie relaxed, knowing she wouldn’t get onto him about loitering around the school like some of his other teachers would. 

“What are you still doing here?” She gestured to him with her pack of copy paper. 

“Waiting to be picked up. Doc’s in a meeting so…” Stevie trailed off, not wanting to admit he had been forgotten.

She nodded once, understanding what he said between the lines. “Why don’t you hang out in my room?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you if you were about to head out or anything.”

“Please,” she scoffed, “there’s always something I can be working on. Don’t worry about it.”

Ms. Greene set her stack of papers on her desk and sat at her desk. Stevie slung his backpack off and put it by his desk. He looked around thinking how rarely he saw the room empty. It was normally packed with people, every desk was taken, and Ms. Greene would have to dodge backpacks and lunchboxes to walk around the room. By the end of the day, the desks were crooked and out of place, so Stevie started straightening them up.

“When you finish, do you want to clean them?” Stevie froze, not realizing she was paying attention to him. “There’s Clorox wipes in that cabinet.” 

“Sure, yeah.” Stevie was used to tidying up at the Institue when he was bored or restless, so he continued in her classroom. They talked while he worked making the time pass quicker. She asked about school and what other assignments he was working on in the week. He had a history paper coming up, and they were supposed to do another lab soon in biology. Stevie wasn’t worried about the paper, Laszlo taught him how to write an essay over the summer, but he was nervous about the lab. Biology wasn’t his strongest subject, but he liked Ms. Sussman’s class. 

Stevie crouched to pick up an errant highlighter, and when he heard Coach Connor’s voice cut the momentary silence he stayed where he was. In the corner, behind a group of desks, he wasn’t immediately spotted. He moved so he could see between a crack in the desks and watched.

Ms. Green recoiled, almost retreating into her desk corner. Stevie recognized her discomfort as she crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. Her eyes flicked to where he hid and back to Coach Connor. “What are you doing here?” she questioned.

“I saw your car was still in the parking lot.” What is he stalking her? She stayed quiet prompting him to keep speaking. “I wanted to see if you’d changed your mind since the conferences.”

She sighed, clearly at her wit’s end with him, “Patrick, I said no, and I meant it.”

“Are you sure-”

“-I’m sure. I have a boyfriend now, and I don’t appreciate your insistence. It is not professional or appropriate, especially while at the school.” 

Boyfriend? Stevie wondered if it was Doc. They certainly seemed to hit it off at the open house, and it would explain his weird behavior and change in mood. He would keep observing.

Coach Connor’s face flushed red, he grumbled an apology under his breath, and he turned on his heels. Once assured he was gone, Stevie sheepishly stood up from behind the desks. 

Ms. Greene’s face was in her hands. “I am so sorry about that. I don’t even know what to say…” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Stevie shrugged. “Clearly, you didn’t want him here either.

“I noticed you stayed hidden there. Has he been bothering you, too?”

Stevie sat on the desk, fiddling with the highlighter in his hand. “Yeah, kind of. He’s harder on me in P.E., that kind of thing.” He was quick to reassure her. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure? He shouldn’t be treating you like that, and I know you don’t want to be a snitch or anything, but it’s important to speak up.”

Stevie knew he should, but he didn’t want to create any problems. Doc was happier, possibly because of Ms. Greene, but this afternoon was a reminder of how much he juggled. Stevie would feel guilty adding anything else. 

In the meantime, he could deal with Coach Connor yelling at him or making him run more laps. He could stomach the football players' stupid jokes and isolation, done on Coach Connor’s orders, no doubt. 

“I’m sure,” he answered.

While Alice tweaked her slides for the week, Stevie worked on his homework. He sat at his desk for class which she chuckled at. A classroom of empty desks and students will naturally pick their own desks. Alice enjoyed having Stevie there and providing a safe space for him to wait for his ride, but she also wanted to go home. She was tired and slightly cold, and she wanted to change into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. 

“Hello hello.” Alice looked up from her laptop. A tall, well-dressed man with dark hair paused in the doorway. “John Schuyler Moore, and you must be Ms. Greene if the sign outside your door is correct.” He extended his hand for her to shake, and she took it. 

“Yes, I am. You must be here for Stevie.”

“I am, and hopefully he hasn’t given you too much trouble,” John winked. 

“No, he’s been wonderful-”

“-Oh, you thought I meant Stevie, no, no, I meant Laszlo.” He laughed, and she bit her tongue to keep from doing the same. “You’re the one who has to deal with him as a concerned parent.”

Alice smiled. “He’s been wonderful, too. Very communicative.” 

Stevie packed up his bag slowly, keeping an eye and an ear on their conversation. Alice was conscientious that everything she said was being analyzed. 

“It was so polite of you to let him sit in your classroom. You could’ve gone home an hour ago, enjoyed your evening, and yet here you are.”

Alice didn’t miss the way he said enjoy your evening. It was a clear innuendo that she glossed over. “It was no trouble at all. Stevie’s a good kid, and you’re a good friend to come pick Stevie up.”

“I would do anything for a friend like Laszlo. I’ve known him for almost twenty years, and I know he would do anything for me in return. He’s like that, you know,” John shrugged, “he seems tough, but he would give someone the shirt off his back if they needed it.”

“I’m sure he would.” Heat rushed to her cheeks, briefly imagining Laszlo without a shirt and the dark chest hair she would find there, and she cleared her throat. “Stevie, please, don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything. And Mr. Moore, have a good afternoon.”

***

At around nine, Alice got a text from Laszlo. She had just laid down in bed, ready to get warm and comfy for the evening, with a book and a mug of tea. She set her book aside on her nightstand and checked her phone. 

Darling, I am sorry for being so inattentive today, and I want to thank you for letting Stevie stay in your room. I appreciate it. 

Alice’s thumb hesitated over the Facetime button. She hoped Laszlo would pick up and that he didn’t text her and immediately set his phone aside. She didn’t look her best, her hair was pulled back in a messy bun and her face was still red from washing it, but she wanted to see him. 

“Hey Laz,” she smiled at him, but she was concerned. He sat at his desk, dark circles under his eyes, and creases deep in his forehead. She could see a stack of papers spread out in front of him, and he held a fountain pen in his hand. 

Laszlo smiled back at her, and it made her heart skip a beat. “I missed you today,” he drawled. “An emergency case came up, and they needed me at the courthouse and at the juvenile facility, and I have to read all this paperwork for tomorrow morning… But I needed to hear your voice and see your face.”

“Aww,” she blushed, but she knew her face was already red and he probably couldn’t tell. “Thank you, baby. It’s okay to be busy and do what you need to do.” He took a sip of what she assumed was coffee. “I just appreciate a heads up or something if you’re going to be unavailable. I could even plan to keep Stevie for a while or something if you let me know.” 

“That’s very generous of you.”

“But I must say, it was nice to finally meet one of your friends.” Laszlo groaned in embarrassment, and Alice giggled. “He was very complimentary of you.”

Laszlo set down his pen and ran his fingers through his hair. It was nice to see him relax and not think about work for a moment. “What did he say? You know he’s never going to tell me.”

Alice mocked offense. “What makes you think I’m going to tell you either?” He huffed a sigh and chuckled. “It’s admirable, really, the way he spoke about you. He would make a good wingman if you weren’t already taken.”

“John means well, obviously, he just doesn’t know everything yet.” Yet. She wondered when she would meet his friends officially, and he would meet hers. They were still in the beginning of their relationship, but she assumed since she told Bitsy, Laszlo must have told his friends something. Soon, she thought, but hopefully not too soon. Alice liked existing in their secret little bubble.

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[spockiguess]

The Evangelical Counsels || Laszlo Kreizler x Fem!Reader || Chapter 1 - Introduction

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune / Chapter 2

Summary: After turning away another child from the orphanage her convent runs, the reader finds help in the one person considered irredeemable by the Church, Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.

Warnings: Descriptions of Abuse Regarding Minors, Mentions of Poverty, Homelessness, and Starvation Regarding Minors, Mentions of Violence Against Homeless People (including children), Period-Typical Depictions of Homelessness, Criticisms of Organized Religion, Romance Involving Nuns, Age Gap (~20s/~40s), Eventual Smut

Pairing: Fem!Nun!Reader x Laszlo Kreizler

A/N: Hello everybody! Sorry for disappearing for over a year, but as per usual, life gets in the way of very necessary fanfic-writing. Anyway, I hope to post more often, especially with this story, which I have already prepared this chapter and another chapter for. Warning: the tags stated in the warnings are an explanation for things that happen in the plot, they are not a "factor" in the romance between the reader and Kreizler.

New York City has always seemed to exist within a perpetual dichotomy of exuberant wealth that can flood the streets with ornate marble statues at a whim, whereas walking a few blocks in any direction might lead you to slums teeming with sickness and desperation. The rich that infest the country’s epicenter for culture and progress never notice this disturbing contrast, even when the hand of a small child reaches out, begging for help. This shameless apathy has always disturbed you, and that distinct, gnawing feeling of injustice only grows more unruly inside of the pits of your gut as you see the affluent dregs of society continue to live in purposeful ignorance.

Luckily, you're not completely powerless to the rich that practically rule the city. Being a devoted Sister at St. Vincent’s Orphanage has allowed you to help ease the struggle the children here suffer on a daily basis, albeit, it's not exactly to your standards. The convent you're aligned with is small, and St. Vincent’s Orphanage is even smaller. At this point, you've lost count of how many children you've had to cruelly turn away, the cramped space you serve already brimming at max capacity. Every time you have to look a child in the eyes and tell them that they can't get the help they truly deserve because of reasons out of your control, your resolve crumbles.

Almost always, a voice in the back of your mind tells you to wipe the child’s tears and take them home, give them the life they deserve–take them away from this overwhelming helplessness. But the vows you swore to years ago keep you as a bride of God, serving Him–and only Him–with the idea of rearing children on your own absolutely unacceptable. Your sole duty is to help these children survive until they ultimately find a suitable home.

And that's where you struggle to reconcile the issues of your faith. If you're to protect the children of this city at any cost and show them the unending kindness of the Lord, why are you having to carry a starved child on your hip while you march through the streets in search of the only place that can take them in–the one place your Sisters dare not go?

To ruminate on such a question, especially at this time, is a waste of precious energy. The young child you carry needs your attention, so you push aside your own deep-seated frustration and attempt to temporarily relieve them of their worries.

“The Kreizler Institute is an excellent place, Mona. Although they act in the absence of the Lord, their facility is magnificent, according to Mother Superior Ida,” you consoled, brushing locks of tangled hair from the child's face while deftly weaving past the crowds that surrounded you on all sides.

The child, whose name you found on the note she carried with her at St. Vincent’s doorstep, solemnly nodded against your shoulder, teardrops beginning to wet through the thick fabric of your veil. Once again, your resolve crumbled.

Having to bite your tongue due to the innate frustration of the situation, you hugged Mona tighter, believing that if she were close enough, you could imbue her with the strength and bravery to take on this unfamiliar place alone.

At the same time, you whispered to the girl in an attempt to empathize with her, “Oh, Mona. I know. I can't imagine how scared you are right now.”

That statement alone was too much for Mona, causing her to burst into blistering wails while her small hands balled into tight fists, grabbing at your garb as if she were bound to be taken from you at any moment. And that wasn't necessarily wrong. As of now, you were the only person she could fully trust, and in just one more block, you'd be disposing of her at another doorstep. All you could do was pray, and pray you did. Your hands shielded Mona, holding her close to your heart and soul while a litany of prayers flowed from your mouth like rushing rivers, perhaps drowning out the fears you both shared.

Mona only cried more, beginning to plead with you as your pace quickened, “Please don't leave me! Take me home with you! Please!”

It was all becoming far too much, and having ultimately arrived at the front steps of the Kreizler Institute, you fell to your knees and enveloped the girl’s body in yours. You didn't care how you might look to the cacophonous onslaught of strangers that filled the city’s sidewalks, the only thought in your mind was about Mona’s wellbeing. You barely knew this child, but your peers and superiors always chastised you for having too big a heart.

“I’m so sorry, my love, but you must be strong for me. They'll take good care of you here. You'll have whatever you could possibly need.” The sentiment was mostly to calm yourself as Mona’s arms just barely wrapped around your neck, but even then you could feel her hands clawing at the back of your veil, a desolate attempt to stave off the inevitable.

Your entire being ached; you had no idea how to soothe the girl, much less promise her safety. Just then did the idea enter your mind: you could lie to Mona. The situation showed no signs of getting better and you were at an absolute loss. Any other option you had would directly conflict with your faith, your future. Immediately, you fought off the preposterous notion of such a thing. Lying was a wicked sin, and most importantly, how could you betray a helpless child’s trust if this institute were to harm her in any way?

The only thing you could tell Mona was fickle in nature. It held no real promise and there was no way for you to tell if it would be true. Despite that, you were at your wits end. You couldn't let Mona back onto the streets of this city, not when she was so young–so frail.

You cautioned a deep breath and spoke as steadily as you could muster, “When more beds open at St. Vincent’s, I can come back for you. This doesn't have to be forever.”

There was no telling if and when more beds would free up, moreover, the rules regarding switching such care between temporary housing were complicated and strict. Mona could only be brought back to St. Vincent’s if serious evidence of wrongdoing were to be found at the Kreizler Institute, and to open such an investigation, especially if it were to be found pointless, would draw endless ridicule for not only the orphanage, but for your convent. In any case, your statement wasn't a complete falsehood. In the event of possible abuse, which you loathed to even consider, St. Vincent’s would seem much more appealing as an option for relocation. Much of the governing power in New York City still identified with any given denomination of the Christian faith. That being said, you prayed that Mona wouldn't have to experience such terror.

In spite of your worries, your reassurance seemed to calm Mona down, and her broken sobs ebbed into quiet sniffles. Carefully, the girl reared her head back just enough to look at you, her beautiful brown eyes shiny with tears.

“Do you mean it?” Mona asked, her voice raspy and barely a whisper. Dread sunk through your chest like a lead weight, but you forced a plaintive smile to further reassure the girl.

“As much as one can.” The words sounded bitter coming out of your mouth, and for good reason.

Mona’s head bowed before you brought her to your chest once more. Grimly, you swaddled the child and walked up the impressive steps of the Kreizler Institute for Wayward & Abandoned Children.

Once inside, your fears were somewhat quelled when faced with the sight of playing children racing around the elaborate halls of the Institute. A child’s laughter was one of the sure-fire ways to lighten your mood, and on such a day as this one, you needed the resolve to ensure Mona’s safety.

At first, your steps were careful and measured, the short heels of your boots clacking against the expensive marble flooring beneath you. In a couple more steps, you began to walk with a renewed confidence, especially once Mona’s head lifted from the safety of your veil to survey the interior. Eventually, you began to sport a slight smile when some of the children recognized you, ushering you over to their game of hopscotch, the bounds of the squares made up of colored string.

“Hey, it’s the nun from St. Vincent’s!” one of the children called. After that, the rest of the children recognized you as well and offered cheerful greetings, your presence a familiar sight from the dozens of soup kitchens New York City was home to.

“Nunny!” called one of the girls. She looked to be a year or two older than Mona, and after a pause, you finally placed where you’ve seen her before.

If your memory serves, the girl’s name is Alice, and she was just about the kindest person you had ever met. On multiple occasions when you had been volunteering your services at the kitchen closest to St. Vincent’s, she selflessly gave her food to people who had already been served, therefore barring them from officially receiving more that day. Alice had a particular knack for spotting those who needed it most, and was always eager to be of service. You recalled having to restrain yourself from encouraging Alice to join St. Vincent’s convent once she reached an appropriate age. You were firm on the choice that women had when it came to reciting the vows or not, and you wouldn’t use your position of authority to dictate otherwise.

A wide grin spread across your face as you began to rock Mona on your hip, earning a rewarding laugh from the girl, “Good morning, Alice. It’s a pleasure to see you again after all this time.”

Alice giggled, inching closer to you, “It’s nice to see you, too, Nunny.” Nunny was the lighthearted title the children you worked with decided on, explaining it was easier to remember than your true name.

Her mere presence made you feel better about the Institute–she wouldn’t be so giddy if the staff here weren’t fulfilling their duties.

“I was beginning to worry after not noticing your presence at the kitchen anymore,” you playfully remarked, chuckling at Alice’s nonchalant shrug.

“Sorry, Nunny. My friends told me about here and I sorta forgot to say anything,” Alice paused, quickly interjecting her own sentence, “but I would’ve sent you a letter if I knew your address!”

Barely able to contain your smile, you added, “Well, luckily St. Vincent’s will do. Do let me know if you’re allowed to send letters here so I can make sure to give you the proper address.”

Suddenly, you felt a menacing presence materialize behind you as Alice waved at the intrusion, “Hello, Mr. Kreizler!”

Turning to face the person Alice greeted, you were met with a stern-looking man dressed in exquisite textiles, no doubt imported from some far off land.

“It’s Dr. Kreizler, Alice. It’s best not to forget a person’s proper titles,” the man, presumably Dr. Kreizler, kindly instructed. Despite his intimidating appearance, he was gentle with the girl.

You were about to speak when Dr. Kreizler requested the children leave before returning to the daunting demeanor befitting a man of his stature, “I believe it’s well-known that servants of the Church aren’t allowed within these walls. Your kind has a habit of imposing nonsensical beliefs on the children.”

A feeling of hot shame washed over you, warmth tinging your cheeks, “I’ve been warned, Dr. Kreizler, but I’m not here to spread His word.”

Dr. Kreizler stiffened further, his mouth straightening into a thin line, “Then what is the purpose of your visit, Sister?”

Just as Dr. Kreizler cautioned, the Institute had a reputation for vehemently prohibiting the presence of any religious figures to prevent conflict amongst himself and the children. The wealthy alienist was unafraid of the feathers his atheism might ruffle, and he made sure to shield the children from what he called “propagandist doctrine.” Regardless of his blatant vitriol for religion, you hesitantly agreed with him on that particular stance. In your mind, religion was a choice for most people, nothing more. Even though you have devoted your life to His teachings, you hardly expected anyone else to do the same.

Slightly shaken, you pressed Mona closer to you, foolishly hiding her face from the man who might offer her asylum as you voiced your plea, “St. Vincent’s has been full for quite some time now, and I can’t turn away another child in need, Doctor. My superiors have spoken highly of your institute and I have no other options for her.” You motioned to the girl you still held, gently rubbing her back.

Dr. Kreizler softened at this, taking notice of the small girl you cradled. Prudently, he stepped closer, tilting his head to get a better look at Mona.

You continued, speaking more to Mona than to him, “I would personally care for her if I could. I don’t trust anywhere else in the city.”

Nodding, Dr. Kreizler spoke in a hushed tone, his focus entirely on Mona, “I understand,” the man paused before resuming, “it’s fortunate you see only the severity of the situation; I can’t recall a time when someone of your faith entered my facility with good intentions.”

Willing yourself to lighten the situation, if not for your sake, then Mona’s, you quipped, “A certain saying involving good intentions comes to mind, Doctor.”

The alienist smiled, the line narrow and somewhat forced, “Your humility is appreciated, Sister.”

“One can only have humility in a situation like this. I just hope that Mona will be able to stay here for the time being, at least until a bed at St. Vincent’s opens.” Your voice was light, hopefully soothing to the girl you aimed to protect.

At this, Dr. Kreizler attempted a joke himself, his accent making it decidedly sharper than yours, “Ah, I assume my institute still isn’t to your standards, then?”

“I don’t want to be here. I want to be with you,” Mona harshly stated, snuggling further under your veil. Dr. Kreizler stiffened, caught off guard by the confident proclamation.

You sighed somewhat, speaking to Mona first, “I know, my love, but Dr. Kreizler is a good man. He knows how to help,” then, turning to Kreizler, you whispered, “You can help her, Doctor?”

It was obvious to you that Dr. Kreizler had a weakness for children, if his facility dedicated to their health and safety wasn’t proof enough.

“I can help,” he said mostly to Mona before addressing you, “However, it seems the child has an attachment to you. It might prove helpful if you offered your assistance while I go over the necessary paperwork.” The last part was strained, almost as if he abhorred the idea of someone of the cloth helping him in any way.

After your tentative agreement, Kreizler swiftly led you to his office to begin Mona’s processing. Once inside, you took note of how the space was simultaneously tidy and luxurious, the walls and any available surface decorated with artifacts and hefty textbooks that featured gold lettering on the spines. The chairs you and Mona sat in were similarly fine, made with plush velvet and hand-carved mahogany that was the bulk of their appearance. Now that Mona had separated from your hip with much resistance, she allowed herself to be swept up in the opulence of the Institute. You couldn’t deny the finery of such a place, either. St. Vincent’s was noticeably barren, only housing the absolute necessities that fell in line with the ordinance of your faith and what orphanages require. It had been some time since you visited a place like this, and you weren’t sure whether to include Dr. Kreizler in the group of New York moguls that flaunted their wealth so readily, or if this was a sign that he took pride in the conditions the children here lived in.

The latter seemed to be the obvious choice given Dr. Kreizler’s treatment of the children so far, and his mission with the facility in general. The ostentatious socialites you encountered wouldn’t deign to entertain such a venture, especially if it involved the downtrodden youth of the city.

Dr. Kreizler’s voice startled you out of your stupor, “Did any adults accompany Ms. Walker when you found her outside of St. Vincent’s Orphanage?”

“No. Mona was alone,” you quickly supplied. Dr. Kreizler scribbled the information on a sheet of paper, the sound of his fountain pen filling the nearly silent room.

“Other than a last name, does Ms. Walker know any other identifying details about her parents?” Kreizler asked.

You faced Mona, watching her run the pad of her pointer finger against the raised engravings of the chair’s arm, “I’m afraid not, Doctor. The only information I have regarding her parents is vague. She says they were never around much, to begin with.” Dr. Kreizler gave a curt nod and returned to his form while you reached out and smoothed Mona’s hair.

After a brief moment, Kreizler returned his attention to you, “You’re sure that Ms. Walker hasn’t run away?”

Mona’s head snapped up and you clarified before any upset could be caused, “The only thing Mona had with her was a short note from her mother. It says that neither her mother, nor her father, can afford to take care of her anymore, hence her appearance at St. Vincent’s.”

“And this isn’t a note Ms. Walker crafted herself?” You knew the reasoning behind Dr. Kreizler’s questions, but couldn’t help but feel offense on Mona’s behalf at the coldness of his tone. You had to reassure yourself he was only ruling out any possibility of Mona’s parents returning and claiming her.

Drawing the note from a pocket hidden on the underside of your apron, you reached across the expanse separating you from the doctor, “I’ve saved it–just in case.”

Dr. Kreizler took the piece of dirtied paper from your hand before sitting back in his chair, carefully unfolding the note and analyzing the contents.

As he did this, you allowed yourself to express your thoughts on the matter, “The handwriting is too legible to be from a child this young, especially from one whose had no formal education so far,” suddenly feeling another wave of sorrow take control of your heart, you continued, “I’m not sure Mona can even write.”

Kreizler clicked his tongue before folding the note and placing it into a fresh file he had procured at the beginning of this meeting, “I would have to agree with you.”

Some time passed as you helped Dr. Kreizler finish the paperwork that would allow Mona to stay at the Institute, and before long, the young girl would drift off to sleep in the chair beside you. You figured this was the first time in a while that she had been able to fall asleep easily, and a spring of hope flourished within you at the thought of Mona having a warm bed from now on.

Finally, Dr. Kreizler realized Mona’s lack of response and watched her sleeping form contemplatively, carefully setting his pen down and rising from his seat. The action caused you to rise, too, stepping closer to Mona’s chair and gently patting the top of her head.

Allowing yourself to smile at the sight, you began to speak before matching Dr. Kreizler’s gaze, “Might I help bring Mona to a bed?”

Kreizler smiled, too, this time being more genuine and warm than before, no doubt a symptom of Mona’s peaceful slumber, “I think Ms. Walker would greatly appreciate that.”

With great care, you brought Mona into your arms once again and rested her head on your shoulder, happily listening to the sound of her snoring.

Looking back at Dr. Kreizler, you nodded once, smiling as you spoke, “Thank you for your help, Doctor. I hope you can forgive me for my sudden appearance today, I’ll make sure to keep a great distance between myself and here when possible.” Kreizler softly laughed at your humorous comment, closing the distance between you and him.

“I give you permission to access these premises if another situation like this occurs in the future,” Kreizler paused, his smile widening, “Do take note that that only applies to you.”

Suppressing a laugh, you shook your head in understanding, “Of course, Doctor. Although, I don’t think my Sisters would care to come here. Some admit to being afraid of your kind.” You mirrored the doctor’s earlier comment, teasing him slightly.

For a moment, Dr. Kreizler stared into your eyes, squinting as if he were searching for something within them, before questioning you with a mischievous tone, “My kind?”

An even brighter smile spread across your features, a playful twinge in your words, “Atheists.”

At last, the serious man in front of you laughed without restraint, and you felt a foreign heat rise in your chest, “I should’ve known. A being worse than the criminals that populate this city.”

Shrugging, you teased again, “Their apprehension is unfortunate. If they’d take the time to know someone like you, they’d realize how good natured you all can be, sans religious obligation.”

Dr. Kreizler hummed in agreement and took a longing glance at you before making his way to the entrance of the office, “The threat of eternal damnation has never been a driving factor in my operations, Sister. I believe more people are like that than some would care to admit.”

Thoughtfully, you considered his statement while walking to the door, softly rocking the girl in your arms, “It is a grievous assumption of the human condition, one I hope isn’t true.” Kreizler met your gaze as he absently opened the door, his dark eyes stoking the flames you felt stir within you.

Not sure how to continue, and thoroughly scared of the strange feelings that were beginning to take root in your being, you bowed your head and walked through the door, Dr. Kreizler not far behind.

The journey to one of the many dormitories that the Kreizler Institute housed was long, but not without interest. Children and staff alike were all around you, contributing to the comfortable nature of the space with their rambunctious chatter and lively games. While Mona comfortably rested against the surface of your coif, you surveyed the massive paintings that lined the intricate halls, all pieces of fine art that could easily belong in a museum. The pictures mainly depicted positive scenes, like meditative studies of lush landscapes, or vibrant portraits of greatly important figures.

Kreizler noticed your intrigue and began to comment on the decorations that marked your path, “It’s important that the children here are given just as much access to the arts as anyone else might have. Multiple studies have shown that exposure to art and music drastically improve the quality of life for people of all ages, especially those suffering from mental or physical ailments.”

You hummed, pleased by the new information, “Which is your specialty–the minds of children?”

“That would be correct, Sister. I dedicate my time to helping those who society deems unworthy of such kindness,” Dr. Kreizler informed, curtly waving to the swaths of youth who soared past with beaming grins and loud hellos.

“Then a noble man, you are, Dr. Kreizler. I don’t know many people–rich or poor–who would carry out the necessary work you do on a daily basis,” you bleakly commented. You were all too familiar with the spiteful indifference the country suffered from nowadays.

Kreizler turned to face you, not losing a step in the process, “Not even members of the faith?”

A gnarled guilt churned in your stomach; Dr. Kreizler wasn’t wrong. In fact, most people who proclaimed their allegiance to any branch of Christianity had not only become attached to the pervasive apathy that threatened to consume all, but were, in most instances, the reasons behind it. Many of the folk who attended church regularly looked down on the work you did, citing that it was unbecoming for a woman of your calling to share a space with the sinful and uncleanly. To them, the “beggars” of the city didn’t deserve charity, no matter how helpless.

“Unfortunately, no,” drawing a tentative breath, you explained, “A startling number of them are of the mindset that the impoverished somehow deserve the dismal circumstances they’re often forced under. No matter how hard I, or my Sisters, might try to teach them otherwise, they’d rather have some claim at superiority than help their fellow man.”

Dr. Kreizler questioned further, “And why do you think that is?”

Readjusting the girl on your side, memories of the mistreatment children like Mona face from such a lot consumed your thinking. Supposed Christians would go out of their way to abuse the young and homeless, either through stealing their clothes, food, or makeshift homes, or by pelting them with stones picked up off the streets. Seeing the reactions they could garner, it would only spur them to escalate, for no other reason than abject cruelty. Their only defense was that it was their duty as followers of Christ to punish those who didn’t seek to cleanse themselves of sin. It was a strong enough argument as not many people, Christian or otherwise, would find the bravery to speak out against these actions disguised as a shared religious responsibility.

Finally, you came to an answer, and it wasn’t one you were proud of, “Because it is easier to hide behind an all-powerful God than it is to do what is objectively right, even if the Lord urges His followers to sacrifice for others at all costs. They think that because they attend church and give donations to the congregation that they are guaranteed a spot in Heaven.” The anger was palpable in your voice, and your cheeks burned at the realization.

Quickly, you supplied an apology, “Forgive me, Doctor. I forget myself.”

“Don’t apologize, Sister. Your honesty is refreshing. I haven’t met a nun so critical of her own faith before,” Dr. Kreizler remarked.

Appalled, you defended yourself as the three of you rounded a corner, “I am simply critical of the people who claim to share my faith. I do not renounce His word.”

Kreizler led you to a door marked with a golden plaque that read: Girl’s Dormitory 1. The alienist ushered you and Mona through, a vexing grin on his face.

“You do not find yourself questioning His teachings, Sister?” Kreizler asked, his amusement plain.

Entering the dormitory, you found two rows of beds situated on opposite sides of the room with hefty chests at the foot of each one. Drawings made up most of the decorations in the room, besides the toys that had been left out on each girls’ bed. Beside each cot sat a nightstand with an oil lamp adorning the wooden surfaces, giving the room a warm glow. On the chests were small name cards, written by the owner of the bed. Quickly, you picked one without a name and walked ahead of the doctor, cheeks heating once again.

Dr. Kreizler pushed further, following you in stride, “Your silence is quite the answer.”

Deciding to avoid the question for now, you proposed another instead, “I presume this would be Mona’s?” The Good Doctor nodded and you sunk down to lay Mona on the comfortable mattress that engulfed the girl’s slight frame.

Heaving a hearty sigh, you knelt beside her, pushing hair from her delicate, auburn face. Quietly, you spoke to the alienist while keeping your focus on Mona, “May I say goodbye to her, Dr. Kreizler?”

Deciding to ignore your deflection of the previous subject, Dr. Kreizler responded, “That would be best.”

You whispered a faint thank-you before rousing Mona. The girl’s eyes struggled to open at first and there was no doubt this has been the longest stretch of sleep she’s been able to secure.

Mona took in her new surroundings as she reached for your hand, “Do I get to stay?”

Smiling, you affirmed her question, “Yes, my love,” you paused, remembering another critical piece of information that came during the walk to the dormitory, “Dr. Kreizler also gave you permission to come back to St. Vincent’s whenever there’s space.”

Mona’s face brimmed with unadulterated joy, “Really?”

Dr. Kreizler chimed in to quell any of Mona’s doubts, relaying that she would be able to request visits with you whenever she pleased.

“Well, what if I want to stay here and only visit with Nunny?” Mona had picked up the silly nickname during your brief exchange with Alice, who you hoped would look after her in your absence.

The alienist laughed, “That works just as fine, Ms. Walker.” Only then did you sneak a glance at Dr. Kreizler, just in this instance beginning to appreciate his handsome features now that you were able to see more of his good nature.

Kreizler noticed your staring, however the grin that surfaced while interacting with Mona hadn’t ceased, instead only growing in intensity. The tips of your ears began to grow balmy, forcing you to tear away from his knowing stare in order to rebalance yourself.

“Just make sure to give Dr. Kreizler ample time to prepare for my visits, Mona. You’ll have weekly meetings where this can be negotiated,” you instructed. Mona giggled, nodding earnestly before leaping up to wrap her hands around your neck again.

You leaned forward and rubbed soothing patterns into her back, grateful that her care was finally secured.

The embrace lasted sometime, causing Kreizler to point out Mona’s silence, “It seems Ms. Walker has fallen asleep again. We should allow her time to rest.”

Taking your cue, you rose and followed Dr. Kreizler as he left the dormitory, both of you stopping just in front of the now closed entryway.

Even after sharing a sweet moment, Kreizler didn’t allow you to escape his interrogating so easily, and scratched the scruff of his thick beard while pressing you for answers once again, “If I recall correctly, you hadn’t answered my last question.”

The space between you and Dr. Kreizler had become dangerously small, and in such close quarters, you could smell the heady scent of his expensive cologne. Your brain fogged, an overwhelming combination of feelings still unknown plaguing your body and mind.

“That is because I have never thought to question His teachings before, Doctor,” as you resumed the subject, words tumbled from your mouth without much control, creating quite the mess.

Your eyes widened when you heard the statement slip from you so easily, drawing a deep laughter from the man in front of you. If not caught up in the whirlwind of what you had just implied, you would have noticed how the honeyed sound made your heart squeeze deliciously.

Dr. Kreizler’s already overpowering confidence increased tenfold, and you could hear it in his voice as he remarked, “That’s right. One of the few things they don’t cover during your novitiate. It’s quite interesting.”

Too many emotions were beginning to flood your mind, and that was as much a danger as what Dr. Kreizler was proposing in the first place. You needed to leave immediately and right yourself before something inexcusable happened.

Bowing your head in submission, you eked out an apology that came out faster than what you were apologizing for, “Forgive me, Doctor, but I must leave. I am forever indebted to you.”

You left before Kreizler could answer, unwilling–or more accurately, unable–to handle whatever else could come out of that sly mouth of his.

[rumblelibrary]

I need a very loving Laszlo smut, either top or switch with him, take it any direction you want, any build up, any kinks. But I just... my soul needs this V I need to see this man happy and satisfied

Coming Back Home [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Wife!Reader]

Word count: 3k

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, mild victorian dirty talk)

Author’s note: I am weak to see this man happy, my mind went a bit overboard, but I just couldn't hold it back, to see him happy and fulfilled in all his means, professional and private. Thank you so much for feeding my obsession and being my supporter @cazzyimagines <3

The cold air hit him as a welcome back in the moment he exited the carriage, he was back in New York after six months of study and hard work in Wien, he hated and loved it: he learned a lot and got the chance to talk with some of the best alienists in the field granting himself some valuable resources and upcoming publications, the city was amazing and romantic. But all day, every day, he was with his mind on the life he left here, on you and your baby boy waiting at home patiently, easing his pains with letters and little colourful sketches, reassuring him that he would come back to the same house he left.

It was late, he could see the light in baby’s room was off already and it pained him to be late for the goodnight story.

The driver dropped his belongings beside the door with a huff before taking his money with a big thank you.

Laszlo nodded, a sense of tension taking over him, what if something indeed changed? What if you hate him for leaving for his own interest? Will his son remember him? 

The silliest questions took over him and he just rang the bell before the spiral would take over and make him sleep in the garden out of his imaginary shame.

Stevie opened the door and his face lighted up instantly, Laszlo’s hand moved close to his own face with a finger up to signal him to keep quiet. The young lad nodded opening the door more, but a loud whine came out of his lips when he saw the heavy trucks beside Laszlo. 

“Stevie? Who is it?”

Your voice vibrated through the walls enveloping Laszlo like a distant memory and a fresh breath of air at the same time.

Stevie mumbled something “Nobody Madam, only some funny head playing with bells at night” he said as Laszlo nodded at him.

He left the coat at Stevie with his gloves and hat making his way to the bedroom upstairs trying to be as quiet as possible, your vanity the first thing that appeared to his sight, he shifted lightly so he could spot your figure reflected in the mirror without being seen.

You were already in your white night dress, hair down wrapped in a braid that rested on your shoulder, his own dark blue night gown draped over you making you appear even smaller, a book resting in your hand, the other hand toying with the fabric of his gown. A soft sigh left your lips and a little smile, you are liking the book. You turn the page with your features lighting up by interest, he felt almost guilty to interrupt you.

“Guten Abend, my love”

Your head shot up, eyes wide in surprise, a smile growing on your lips as he walked inside the room revealing his presence. A sense of nervousness still on him.

“Laszlo” you called rushing to him, discarding the book and throwing the covers onside,  closing the distance between the two of you by jumping out the bed like an excited child. Your hands wrapped quickly around his neck, you pulled him in, lips clashing against one another. He smiled in the kiss, eyes a bit teary as the happiness you were able to blossom into his chest since the first time he met you was still there. He cupped your cheek with his left hand, the kiss being long and followed by little short ones, and then again a long one.

“You should have told me” You whispered and he smiled at you noticing how you also got a bit of tears streaming down your cheeks, but all due to happiness. You picked his right hand kissing it lovingly, oh that ritual of yours, that mindless action you always did to kiss the part of him he despised the most.

“Welcome home, my love”

He smiled widely, so wide he felt his cheeks and jaw hurt, while he leaned his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes enjoying it. Your little telepathy thing, like he could pour his thoughts to you and vice versa.

In the meanwhile Stevie kept himself far from the two of you not wanting to interrupt or witness anything he shouldn’t. Laszlo pulled back from that position as he stared down at you, your eyes met again as you gulped down a little, his eyes travelling onto your neck as none of you seemed able to pick what words to let out first, too many informations gathered in six months that letters couldn’t covert.

His eyes raising up to yours, you moved first guiding his right hand still safe in your grasp inside that warm robe hiding your body, his fingers meeting with the obscenely thin fabric of your night dress, the shape of your breast clear under his touch, his thumb brushing over your nipple earning an immediate reaction from you. 

His breath itched, his tongue wetting his lips as you kept supporting his weak arm while his hand discovered once more what hidden treasure was the body of his wife.

His left hand undoing the silky bow around your neck that kept that useless piece of clothing closed, your breasts being exposed as he leaned his head down lacing his lips with you nipple and giving it a tempting suck, his tongue roaming over it as a sense of home and comfort surged into his stomach, then he spoke and his hot breath against your wet nipple made you shiver.

“Have you done the exercises that I gave you?”

“No”

His eyes shoot up at you, a mix between the need to scold you and desire in them.

“I could do it only with your letters” you added.

“Not touching yourself enough must have been painful, exasperating, you could have brought yourself to hysteria”

“I know, but I was waiting for this moment”

He smirked, the idea to be a vital part of your sexual expression turning him on immensely.

“Which letter was your favourite?”

“The one where you described your fingers inside me, I could imagine it so clearly while I was doing it to myself”

He almost let out a groan only by the sound of your words, the need to go knuckles deep inside you now almost impossible to hold back as the image of your distressed figure rolling onto the sheets trying to emulate that pleasure he only can give you clouded his mind.

His left hand almost angrily undoing the fabric belt the nightgown around your waist before moving behind your back to pull it off your shoulders, you gently let go of his right hand helping him in the task, your hands now tugging his jacket, his waistcoat, beginning already with his shirt buttons, you were so in need, but he was the same. He tugged his shirt off probably ripping off some buttons, the urgency you both felt filling the air.

His eyes trying to take in all your figure as you finally let go of that white dress.

“Oh, meine Frau, no statue or artwork or inspiration I have seen in this travel equals your beauty” he groaned as he felt like he almost forgot how he worshipped your body, how your only presence triggered obscene desires through him.

There was almost a moment of suspense before he leaned his warm body against yours, skin on skin again.

His erection already brushing over your lower stomach as you guided him onto the bed with you laying down for him. “Laszlo” you were about to beg him not to make you wait, not to tease you but his left hand fingers were already between you legs and a yelp of pleasure left you lips immediately.

“Soaked wet without me even touching you”

He was so pleased, you didn’t need to look at his face to know, but you whimpered when his long finger pushed inside you, he knew it, he knew exactly how to touch you, how to manipulate all of you. His lips laced to your neck, he sucked on it, bit it, hickeys soon will follow the passage of him. He is back.

To see your own neck pale and empty from his marks pained you everyday, but now he is at home and there won’t be a single centimetre of you spared. Another moan followed as his mouth found your nipples again, your legs trembling as a second finger joined the first one making you gasp for air. The ultimate pleasure approaching in you too quickly, abnormally quickly, but you missed him so much and six months without his care on you was a torment.

His prideful smile gave you the freedom not to restrain your pleasure, your hips jolting up and trembling, more wetness gathering on his fingers before he pulled them out knowing that it would make you feel empty.

He punished you with distance as he sat down on the bed, you crawled over him, legs still feeling like jelly as you forced yourself to straddle him. You didn’t need to rest, you wanted him to bring you to exhaustion and he knew it, he knew you won’t wait anymore. So you aligned him with your folds, his hard cock opening his way into you easily thanks to your recent orgasm, a loud growl leaving Laszlo’s lips.

“My wife, it appears to me that you’re back being a virgin after only six months away from me” 

You blushed because his words made you sensitive and proud in a very peculiar way, you moaned slowly beginning to ride him as he kept muffling how tight you’re pressing his forehead against your chest, his left arm wrapping around you. You voiced your pleasure freely, fingers tangling to the back of his head, now it was your turn to guide his pleasure, to set the rhythm, but the pace was slow and deep, the desire still feverish in you, but the closeness inspiring you tenderness. 

“How horrible to rest in the cold Wien without you, how empty to walk without your presence” he spoke directly to your chest, to your heart “every achievement was not an achievement if I couldn’t share it with you” he confessed, his hot breath against your breasts.

“You’re back now, next time we will come with you”

You smiled as his eyes shone looking up at you “my wife”

He loved to call you that, he always did, the pride in his voice when he asked you  to be his wife the first time came back to your memory. You didn’t need many nicknames, wife and husband, the holy duo, the balance, the symmetry.

“I love you, my husband”

You moaned against him, his fingers digging into your skin, his right hand settling over your hip.

You couldn’t guess how much it lasted, you impaled deliciously yourself over him, he loved to stare at you going on your own on top of him, love it, express fully your feminine power. His left hand teasing your clit sapiently mimicking your movements making it nauseatingly perfect, your mind clouded by pleasure. He cursed, he growled biting onto the side of your breast when filling you up and gaining another moan from you, he held you down as he kept rubbing your clit until he felt your walls clasp deliciously around him, he still didn’t want to move.

He loved to see you helpless, washed over by pleasure, legs jerking aimlessly and fingers pulling onto him and his hair.

You didn’t take time to recover from that second orgasm, his skilled fingers knowing their ways around you, you bowed your head joining your lips again, you still couldn’t believe it.

“I am such a lucky man to have you”

You smiled kissing his forehead “I am lucky with such a husband like you”

You stayed like this, hugging, the time to talk will come, the time to exchange gifts and come back to routine. But not now. After countless minutes you slowly shifted from that position, freeing his hard on from you but slowly moving beside his sitting figure staying on your all fours, the braid that held your hair almost completely loose.

“Come my husband, you only had one orgasm, I know you love even numbers”

The next morning the light from the window hit his eyes, he frowned stirring as he blinked tiredly. Your figure tangled to his in bed, the covers over the both of you. He kissed your forehead out of habit, the marks already forming on your neck made him proud, your regular breathing and gentle perfume mixed with the sweat of sex made his senses alive. You felt him move and woke up pretty easily, probably due to have slept alone for so long. You smiled at each other, no words yet needed, a soft kiss placed on each others lips.

The a soft sound, more like little sounds following one another, little feet rushing down the hallway.

“Mama” being whispered by a very shy boy, his clear brown hair peaking up from the doors.You smirked covering Laszlo completely with the duvets.

“My baby” you said sitting up holding the covers over your body.

“Mami!” He gasped surprised “what happened to your neck?”

“Oh, it is normal my baby, is it so late?”

He nodded and you smiled as he hopped on top of the messy bed, Laszlo smirked from underneath the covers, it seems like somebody took a habit of sneaking into the big bed.

You smiled as your boy resembled so much his father, he crawled to move to your lap and that’s when Laszlo sat up with a loud “Who’s in my bed?” holding his hand up like a claw.

The boy squared but soon threw himself against his father’s chest.

“Apa visszatért!!!” He shouted so loud at you like you didn’t notice Laszlo at all and you chuckled finding the two of them so adorable.

“I am going to get some breakfast done” you said willing to leave them their space. Laszlo nodded at you as you wrapped yourself into your dress and then the thick nightgown. You could hear them talk softly, Laszlo was all about speaking to him in his mother’s language but also in German, so your boy was always mixing the three. “Have you being a good master of the house while I was away?” “Yes Papa, I have been extra good and mommy was happy too, but it is not like when you’re here” Laszlo’s little chuckle won you over even by distance. You had to learn Hungarian through Laszlo, even if you were lucky enough to know German already. But how sweet it was to learn along with your boy.

“Little Andrea woke you up, mrs Kreizler?” The cook, a very nice and good hearted woman asked once you reached the kitchen still wrapped in your night clothes and redoing your braid.

“He did, but his father is back, I couldn’t detain him in any way” You assured as you instructed about the breakfast to make something special. When everything was ready and settled you saw the two of them coming downstairs together, Andrea holding his father’s weak hand into his, still babbling in German to him. The two of them still in their night clothes, you loved to be unruly with them, half of the world outside would be shocked to see a family have breakfast in their night clothes, but who cares. You sat all together as Laszlo begun narrating about his travel, Andrea almost forgetting to eat as he sat down staring at his dad with shiny eyes like he could disappear any time.

“Andrea, at least the juice” you said and he nodded vehemently in particular after you whispered something to his ear.

“Do you have secrets with me?” Laszlo inquired with a smirk, his messy hair a blessing in such bright day.

“Always had” you said with a smirk and he chuckled softly before standing up and leaving for a moment coming back with some boxes.

He handed his boy one and two to you, while Andrea was busy unwrapping the gift Laszlo moved behind your sitting figure “open the small one first”

You obeyed quietly as the box was clearly hinting it was jewellery, inside you found some white gold and blue sapphires earrings.

“Laszlo, you ..” He shushed you softly “come on, wear them for me, jewellery over night dress, a new fashion from Europe” He joked softly but you obliged his wishes putting them on, Andrea making happy cheering sounds as he found the model train of his dreams. The earrings dropped beautifully on you, framing the new Laszlo loved so much “I knew only a Venus like you could sport them” he said making you blush, he always spoke in a way that made you feel like courting never ended.

“What about this?” You asked about the second box and Laszlo smirked just gesturing you to go on. Inside there was a study for a portrait, your portrait, clearly inspired by the picture Laszlo had with himself of you.

“I met this young painter in Wien, a bit struggling with money but extremely talented as you can see, a craftsman that works with gold, I invited him to come here next month and work on your portrait, he fell in love with your figure already, I already know I will have to guard your safety.”

“What is his name?”

“Oh, he is not famous, Gustav Klimt”

“Well, we can make him famous then��� you said and Laszlo just smiled more as you kissed his lips to thank him for the beautiful gifts, knowing Laszlo he probably had way more hidden in his trucks “I knew you’d say something this kind of sweet”

“Mama, you look beautiful” Andrea called you staring like he was waiting for you to say something and you smiled nodding “yes, now it is the perfect time”

“For what?” Laszlo asked as you took his hand guiding him to the living room.

“Please, take a sit now” you said slowly guiding him to his armchair, the comfort of the familiar place relaxed him, the fresh flowers in the vase, the books laid on the table.

“Andrea has a surprise for you” you said leaning to sit on the arm of the chair looking up a his confused face, but he was unable to let go of that smile creeping on his lips.

“Come inside darling” you called “we are ready”

You took Laszlo’s right hand guiding it on your lap, the curiosity already eating him alive as little Andrea came holding his little violin, still looking extra cute in that night dress that made him resemble some cute baby penguin. He puffed his chest blushing as you gave him a nod of encouragement, Laszlo’s eyes shining to see his son like this and the chemistry you two have.

“I have learned this piece to welcome you back home” he announced as his shaky voice betrayed a bit his nervousness.

He placed the violin carefully onto his shoulder resting his cheek on it, your hands holding Laszlo’s while tapping with you finger to keep the tempo for Andrea. The melody was simple, but quite impressive for such a young player, Laszlo was unable to look away from his son, from the way he relaxed while playing, for the way you clearly helped him to gain the confidence to do this little performance.

He looked up at you as you two shared that look of complicity.

Life was bright over Kreizler’s household. 

Tagged @cazzyimagines​ @lieutenantn​ @handmaiden-of-mischief​ @thesunflowersutra​ @zemomybeloved​​ @fictionlandslanddreams​ @charistory​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @apparrio​ @hb8301​ @whatawildone​ @rhymerhymerhyme

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

[cazzyvintage]

I see you shiver with antici...pation

Based upon my Laszlo edging headcanon which you can read here

Synopsis: Due to stress from work, Laszlo snapped at you one evening and though he tried to apologise afterwards, he had just taken a one-way ticket into edging hell.

Word count: 10k

Author’s note: Welp, this might of gotten out of hand 😅 this is my longest one-shot yet so I hope you guys enjoy the read! I feel bad in a way for everything I've put Laszlo through, but at the same time, I love it. Also you may have to suspend some of your knowledge about erections and such 😅 Now that I am back from holiday I'll be getting around to all the headcanon requests I still have in my inbox! I also have another authors note at the end which you'll want to read.

Warnings: Edging, exhibition, finger sucking, handjobs, blowjobs, overstimulation, begging, vaginal sex, f!reader, sub!Laszlo, John attempts to make a joke, brief mention of child abuse

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Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

There was a pounding within his head, unceasingly thumping against his skull, wracking any thoughts of his to and fro in quick succession before he could grasp one and observe it. The pounding was distant but near, a familiarity but an annoyance. He needed it to stop. Yes. It had to stop. He needed to think. Thinking was all he could do now. The pounding became a voice, a consistent voice that continued to pull him away from what he needed to focus on.

“I need peace and patience, if you cannot provide that to me you might as well leave” Laszlo snapped, his hands which were covered in white chalk dust threw said chalk to the floor, gaining some gratification in hearing the way it broke into little pieces, much like his own temperament.

Your head snapped to look at him, the muscles in your neck twinging at the sudden movement. Heat flushed through your body and the sharpness from your nails dug into your hands as they instinctively curled in on themselves due to Laszlo’s sudden gruff words. You had been discussing with him the news of John’s first child expecting to be born in the upcoming months. John was having a palavar attempting to decide upon a name for his child, and as Laszlo considered himself John’s best friend, you assumed he would have wanted to weigh in his own fourth pence of what he thinks John should name his child.

But Laszlo was aggravated and your meaninglessly chitter-chatter had no relevance to him at this current moment. Earlier, before noon, one of the parents of a child at the institute had stormed in demanding Laszlo give him his son back. Laszlo had withheld the child from being permitted to go back to him, after one interview where the child admitted to his father regularly hitting him with his belt. Laszlo had already come to this conclusion in the way the child often flinched when Laszlo drew too near to him, or when Laszlo’s tone would rise higher than usual and this all lead him to believe that not only were his parents physically abusing the child but that the parents were using their children to pickpocket, con other people, putting them in dangerous situations. Laszlo couldn’t allow the child to go back with the parents at any cost as he feared for their safety. The parent caused quite the ruckus, hitting Laszlo in the face before Cryus could intervene, making people on the streets curious as to what was going on. As Laszlo was leaving for the night he was swarmed with reporters asking if it was true that he kidnapped children.

He hadn’t told you about any of this yet, though he knew it was a matter of time before you saw the newspapers yourself. In all proper manner, he should tell you before you found out that way. But he didn’t want to worry you about the children, for he knew how much you cared about them, and he didn’t want you to worry about him after he was hit. He didn’t want to see your pity.

The stress of it all made him tense, and he wasn’t listening to what you were saying as he pondered over how he could help the child, writing up potential solutions on his board yet he was vaguely aware of you chit chattering away in the background, slowly growing on his nerves more and more until he snapped.

His eyes widened and he felt coldness creep up his skin as soon as the words left his mouth, knowing he shouldn’t have just said what he did. His head quickly spun to you, the apology right on the tip of his tongue till he saw your fading figure leaving the room, echoing footsteps slowly getting quieter and quieter the further you moved away.

Internally he cursed at himself, bile rising in his mouth from his own resentment towards his words. He shouldn’t have treated you in that way, it was unjust especially when you were not aware of the pressure upon him, and even that pressure was no excuse for treating you rudely.

Laszlo glanced at his board, then back to where you left the room, his mind debating what to do next. The situation about the boy required attention, he needed to figure out how he would go about ensuring the boy’s safety, while at the same time he didn’t want to leave things unresolved with you, he knew he needed to apologise and the more time he left in between the incident, the worse it became.

Gathering his resolve, Laszlo promptly hurried off to find where you were, to apologise and make it up to you for the rest of your evening. He found you in the library, picking out your favourite book to read. Gently he walked over to you, without saying a word. You watched him with a stern gaze but didn’t stop his hand briefly touching yours, taking the book from you. You turned around and sat down on one of the armchairs, crossing your legs and tapping your fingers upon the armrest as you observed Laszlo choosing to be seated in the chair beside yours. He picked up his reading glasses off the side table, placing them upon himself, where they slightly slipped down upon his nose as he leaned forward to look at the book being held in his deformed hand. His fingers graced through the pages till he found your bookmark, and in clearing his throat, he started reading out loud to you.

He knew you always enjoyed him reading to you. You’d sigh in happiness as you heard the way his sweet accent caressed the words, drawing them out in a husky breath as he read quietly. Secretly it thrilled Laszlo that his voice drew such a reaction out of you, and often he would use his voice in times like this to his advantage. It was moments like these where he knew apologises could only go so far, but little acts of gratitude, are what mattered more to you.

Your heart did simmer hearing the way Laszlo reading to you. You still hadn’t entirely forgiven him for the way he snapped at you earlier, but seeing him attempt to patch things up certainly did warm your heart, and he didn’t stop there.

When dinner time came Laszlo insisted on gathering all of the food and setting out the table himself, something he found particularly hard doing because of his arm yet every time you tried to help him, he insisted he could cope and that you should relax. He gathered all your food onto your plate, knowing just the right amount of what you would eat, and then throughout the dinner, he made polite conversation, asking about how your day was, asking about what you were saying earlier and as you predicted weighing in his own opinion on what John would name his child.

After dinner, you would usually clean up the dishes, but once again Laszlo insisted he would attend to that duty and that you should relax in the main room. He had quite the struggle attempting to carry all the plates and cutlery with one hand, and as he was washing, one of the wet plates slipped out of his hand and smashed on the floor. You were none the wiser, not hearing the way it shattered but Laszlo cursed under his breath and quickly gathered a broom to sweep the evidence away so you would never know.

By the time you two were ready to retire for the night, Laszlo was certain he had won over your forgiveness and felt quite pleased with himself.

This day had been extremely stressful to him, and his face still bore the aching pain, from his tender cheek to his stiff jaw, after being hit earlier in the day. So now he craved some relief, a way to relax from the hard day before he fell asleep. You were turned on your side, your back to him adjusting yourself for sleep when you felt an arm wrap around your waist, pulling your backside to slot into the front side of himself. His warm breath rolled down your neck as he held his face beside you and tenderly he started placing a trail of kisses, from right under your ear to your shoulder. The scruff of his beard scratched your skin lightly but the warmth from his lips soothed it like a healing touch from a saint.

You knew this was Laszlo’s own subtle way of asking you for making love. For a man who so often argued in court for people, someone who interviewed numerous patients and dealt with confrontations continuously throughout the day, when coming to confront his own emotions and desires he found himself lacking in words. It was there why he related in showing you how he felt, rather than attempting and failing to express it through words.

His grasp on your waist grew tighter and his kisses pressed deeper into you, urging for an answer. One which you gave. You twisted around in the bed till you were facing him, his face only inches away from yours. His pupils were blown and his eyes flickered from your own, down to your lips. He smacked his lips together slightly, wetting them ready to attach himself to your lips, to attack you passionately but you moved back, grasping the bedsheets and pulling them off his body.

Laszlo adorned his striped pyjamas, but it was as clear as day how aroused he was. The thin fabric stretched by his crotch, showing his desire pushing up against it, his erection as clear as day. Laszlo’s cheeks grew red and he muttered awkwardly about hormones and how natural it was, clearly feeling the embarrassment at how erect he had become.

You smirked at his plight, enjoying the way his cheeks burned a bright red in shame. You pulled your body over him, making him surprised as he glanced up wide-eyed at you, but he shuddered more when your fingers worked at the buttons of his pyjamas shirt, urgently pulling it open exposing his bare chest for your to run your fingers down seductively leaving red trail marks. Instantly he raised his hand in an attempt to rid you of your nightdress but your hand grasped his wrist before he could make any progress, and you pushed it into the bed telling him indirectly not to move it.

His breath got caught in this throat as he watched the way you slinked down his body, your head moving down till it was at his crotch, inches away from his burning erection. Hopping your fingers through the material you tugged it down, freeing his cock from its confinements and watching it as it instantly shot upwards, pointing up tall and proud. Laszlo was finally able to let out a shaky breath feeling the material no longer trapping him, the heat of your breath fanning over his cock, arousing him even more.

Any stress, any thoughts, instantly disappeared from Laszlo’s mind when he felt your lips wrap around his tip. You encaptured him in warmth and instantly by natural reaction his hips buckled, desperate to push further into your mouth, wanting to feel the wetness of your throat surround his throbbing cock. Gradually you started bobbing your head up and down upon him, using your hand to rub the end which you couldn’t reach yet. You would run your tongue along the underside of his cock, trailing the throbbing vein which stuck out. Occasionally you would pull yourself off him, the saliva from your lip still attacked to his cock creating a wet trial between the two of you. You would run your tongue along his sensitive tip, twisting it upon his slit, wiggling it making Laszlo yelp and cry from the stinging pain but mostly the alarming pleasure it caused. In doing that Laszlo became a moaning mess beneath you. His deep voice rumbled as he groaned from the feeling of your tongue working wonders all over him. At first, he tried to watch you, watch the way your lips curved over his cock, taking him all in but soon he didn’t have the energy to hold his head up and collapsed into the softness of the pillow as his eyes fluttered shut, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure you were bestowing upon him.

You grew excited hearing the way his voice would occasionally gasp when you wriggled your tongue upon his tip or the way he’d groan so loudly you felt the rest of the household would hear him when you attempted to take in the whole of him. Feeling his cock hitting the back of your throat was cataclysmic for Laszlo, and he started chanting to you in broken English, his mind only able to form a few words which he would use to say how perfect you were, how much he loved and adored you.

You could tell when he started to grow closer to his climax. His gasping was rapid, his hips started thrusting more into your throat making you gag, his cock twitched within you as if it had a mind of its own, preparing to shoot his load down your throat. And just as he was almost there, almost ready to feel it all pour out of him, you pulled away.

Laszlo gasped as the coldness swarmed his once warm dick. He cried out, his voice bouncing off the walls as the need to release pained him. He was right there, right at the edge and all he needed was one little touch, just something and he would be thrown into the fits of pleasure. But instead, you pulled yourself back up to your bed and pulled the bedsheet over yourself, wishing him a good night. He was frozen in shock by your actions, hardly believing you would torment him like this. But he realised this was all payback for how he had treated your earlier, and that his attempts to make it up to you still hadn’t saved him punishment from you.

Still utterly in need of friction, craving that release as he felt like the way his load was held with him, making his dick increasingly hard as his cum was within his tract, ready to leave at any moment. He pushed himself onto his side and tried to wrap his arm back around your waist, pulling you in, asking you to continue but you shrugged his arm off. Telling him no, and that you were going to sleep. Fright caught him, fearing he wouldn’t experience his release at all that night and he tired pleading with you again.

“Y/n, please, I want you,” he said in a broken whisper but you shushed him.

“I told you, Laszlo, I’m tired, I’m going to bed”

He rolled back on his front, sighing in discomfort, feeling the way his dick pressed up tightly into the bed sheets above him. Knowing you weren’t going to offer any help. Laszlo raised his hand to grasp himself in a last desperate attempt to relieve himself but sensing what he was doing you suddenly reprimanded him by saying,

“If you touch yourself, Laszlo, what I am doing now is nothing compared to what I will do to you”

The threat was enough for Laszlo to put his hand back down. He knew just how ‘creative’ you could get with punishments and ultimately he decided his best course of action was to let his erection go down on its own, no matter how painful it might become.

And painful it was.

You had a lovely nights rest, sleeping for the next eight hours in complete bliss, full of lovely dreams but Laszlo was another story. He was awake most of the night. His eyes were sore and he felt like sleep would grasp him at any moment but his dick throbbed with need, desperately hoping for something and it tormented him that he couldn’t do anything about it. From this need, he was left in a state of awakeness, unable to fully fall asleep as the pain of not finishing struck him again and again in slow waves. Laszlo ended up finding himself in the position of where his top pillow now no longer rested his head, but instead settled between his thighs, with his cock pushed tightly into the softness of it. He rutted into the pillow a few times, carefully as not to wake you but still with harshness as he tried his best to dull the aching within his cock. The pillow stimulated him, but the feeling of it was still not enough for him to reach his climax and in the end, Laszlo came to the conclusion the pillow was making the situation worse, rather than helping, and yet he couldn’t let go or stop his hips from humping it.

In the morning you naturally awoke, feeling fully rested and fresh for today’s work. Remembering the state you left Laszlo in, you pushed your body to the side to observe him, just to find his wounded eyes already upon you. His once-bright brown eyes were now dark with pain, and he had deep eye bags. His eyes looked imploringly at you from his tear-stained pillow which worn hands clung to desperately.

“Y/n” he whispered, his morning voice deep and distressed. His dark, weary eyes flickered with a glimmer of new hope, however, seeing how you were now awake. He hoped that you would take pity upon him, seeing just how tormented his night had been.

He sighed in relief when you appearing did take pity upon him as you leaned forward, wrapping your hand around his cock. Pre-cum coated his tip, aroused from the way he had been humping the pillow but now it allowed for you to swiftly rub your palm up and down his cock with quick motions, not feeling any skin upon skin resistance. His cock was already hard in your hand, and as you started to pump him, you could feel the clear outline of the veins that ran along his shaft throb against your skin. Laszlo was like putty to be played with and as soon as your hand started moving faster on him he was gasping and groaning, the sensations of last night crashing back over him as he grew so increasingly closer again. His hips thrust into your hand in desperation and he could feel his climax appearing any second. All he needed was one more pump, one more.

But you let go of him, placing your hands upon the bedsheets to thrust your body out of bed and gathering your clothes to be changed into in for the day head.

Laszlo whimpered and collapsed headfirst into the bed, his head bouncing upon the buoyancy of his pillow as once again his oncoming orgasm was ripped away from him. He felt like sobbing, a harrowing feeling carving within his chest but he refrained himself from doing so, still trying to hold onto whatever sense of dignity he might have left within him. But oh how that dignity would soon slip away.

With you leaving the bed Laszlo was forced to start his own morning ritual and prepare for the day while ignoring the obvious strain upon himself. His dick was still rock hard and achingly sore, his tip dripping out pre-cum in the hope for sensation, a sensation he now had come to released he likely wouldn’t feel anytime soon. He hissed through his teeth as he attempted to shove himself into his slacks for today, grimacing at the obvious tent that struck out. He wanted to hate you for all the desperation you were causing him, to argue with you and make you feel sorry for what you were doing to him but he couldn’t find it within him. Not when he felt like he deserved it from the way he treated you, plus perhaps even a part of him, a very deep down part of him enjoyed it as well.

Laszlo made sure to put his extra long black coat on this morning, pulling it tightly around himself, hoping it would be enough to conceal what poked out of his slacks from the prying eyes of the public. Though every time he felt Cryus’s eyes upon him, a cold sweat would swarm him, fearing Cryus knew, fearing that Cryus could read him easily. The way Cryus chuckled at something, or the way he looked at Laszlo as if he had a knowing glint in his eye made Laszlo all the more panicked. How could he ever stand to keep his reputation if people knew just how much you could rile him up. If people found out how you could play with him like a rag doll, bringing him to desperation and need for you and only you, he’d never be treated with respect again.

What was worst was today he was having to conduct interviews with families to see if their children should come to stay at the institute. He couldn’t put these interviews off, for some families had travelled far for this, yet it was too warm inside the institute to wear his heavy black coat. In the end, he had resorted to strategically holding his hands over his crotch, or crossing his legs over so no one could see the erection pushing against the material. He hoped by at least a few hours it would go down, for from what he had studied at university and what he knew from his own experiences, a human erection can only last a certain period of time without stimulation before arousal simmered.

You, however, also seemed to be aware of this, for you suddenly dropped by at his institute to deliver some papers you ‘claimed’ you thought he needed but which you both knew that was entirely not the case.

While he was talking to the child and their parents about possible explanations for their behaviour, you just so happened to drop some paper to the ground, right beside Laszlo and so you bend down to pick them up. Instantly Laszlo’s eyes were drawn to your rear, unable to pull them away as his mind was swarmed with images of you bare before him, bent over his desk just a few inches away from him, begging him to enter you. Due to the sudden barrage of images in his mind, his cock hardened again and the stimulation made him groan in frustration, his eyes briefly shutting from the fleeting pleasure that flew over him, and when he was able to open his eyes again, they landed directly upon the parents giving him perplexed looks.

It’s safe to say they didn’t return.

After they had quickly left, you tried to excuse yourself from the room as well, claiming you had somewhere to be, but as your hand rested upon the cold metal doorknob to open it, Laszlo’s hand shot up on the door, preventing it from opening. He pushed himself into your back and you could feel his erection press into you, pushing into the cheek of your rear with greed. His hand left the door to hold your waist tightly, his fingers grasping the clothes that covered the bone of your hip as he pushed his body further into you, letting out a shaky breath.

“Laszlo!” you scorned but he just placed a gentle kiss upon your temple as if that would make up from the desperate way he was acting, “y/n, please, enough with this, I cannot endure this torment any longer”

You pushed his arm off you and spun around on your heel to face Laszlo. Your back was pressed into the door as Laszlo hardly left any space between the two of you as he leaned into you desperately.

“Did you say just the other week that you would not permit any sexual activities within your institute, in fear of one of the children seeing” you reminded him after you had attempted to go down on Laszlo from under his desk while John was in the room, unaware of the situation Laszlo was having to deal with. Laszlo was not happy with you after that and had reprimanded you greatly about how this was a professional children’s institute.

Laszlo bit his lips, remembering his past words and regret seeped into him and his previous level-headedness. His eyes focused back on you greedily, taking in the irresistible way you looked up at him, your chest heaving, parts of your hair coming loose from your do up and the mischievous glint in your eyes. Dam what he had previously said, he needed you over that desk so he could finally gain his release.

“That was before all of this, now I need you, urgently, I can not waste any more time to go back home to our chamber”

Laszlo was going to continue to rant about his desires, about the current images swarming his mind but you simply raised your finger to his lips, pressing it gently upon him, stopping him.

“I would hate for you to break your own rule Laszlo”

He quickly opened his mouth to argue but you talked over him again, “I’ll see you tonight Laszlo”

With that you were able to open the door a small crack due to the space Laszlo had hardly left you but you were able to slip through, leaving Laszlo to mutter to himself in anger. His hand came to stroke his beard in comfort as he paced the room trying to distract himself from his aching erection. Shakingly he dared to lower his hand down to his crotch, grimacing at seeing how his old worn hand shook but he snatched it away. He couldn’t relieve himself, no matter how much he might have wanted to.

Thus started Laszlo’s own personal hell. Every morning you would be on him, your lips trailing all over his body, your hand touching every inch of him till finally, they lowered to giving him hand jobs, pulling him to the brink of pleasure yet pulling away at the last moment, and in the evening you would go down on him, your lips wrapped around him, pushing him as far as you could imagine into your throat just to leave him achingly despondent as you pulled him away as you felt him begin to twitch. He had thought you would only keep this punishment up for a day at the most, knowing how much it hurt him not to seek this release but the longer you continued it, the more distraught and desperate he became.

Soon he no longer held back any tears when you released him before his time. The stimulation of being so close for what felt like to him the thousandth time just for it to be pulled away again felt like you were pricking his sensitive tip with a dozen of painstakingly sharp needles. He would burst out sobbing, crying with tears streaming down his ruddy red cheeks due to his need for friction, his need to finally feel some sort of release.

On the third day of his living hell, you had just finished toying with Laszlo, grabbing his crotch and squeezing his cock through his slacks as he attempted to read. He whimpered from the pressure and in surprise, you watched as he crumbled from the chair and onto the floor from the overwhelming need, and then now he crawled over to where you sat and pulled himself upon his knees before you. His hand clutched your knee as you looked down at him, finding yourself shocked by his desperation. His reading glasses slipping down his nose from the sweat that had gathered on his face, to the point where they threatened to fall off his face but he made no move to push them back up again as he looked up at you imploringly.

“Please y/n,” he said in a broken whisper, “Please, I can’t cope anymore, please”

His hand shook as his fingers dug into your knee and his forehead leaned forward to rest upon your kneecap, pleading for you to end this.

You tutted at him, moving to place your hand under his chin, raising his face away from your knees to look you in the eyes. His own were glistened with tears as he whimpered feeling desire shot through him even in this slight piece of contact.

“You are so desperate for me aren’t you Laszlo?”

“Achingly so my love”

“It’s amusing, how the great Alienist is dependent on me to make him feel good” you murmur, running your finger down his neck instantly causing him to swallow. He held no response for your statement however so you continued to talk.

“In the end, it will always come down to this, you may have the intelligence darling, the reputation, but you’ll always end up on your knees for me, needing me to pleasure you. You couldn’t live without me”

“I’ll always need you” he whimpered

“Who do you belong to?”

“You”

You tilted your head, letting out a puff of laughter at the way his face was bright red in shame, the way he appeared so shy and anxious yet desperate and lustful. How his hand upon your knee shook with nerves but the pupils in eyes were blown up in desire. You leaned forward, moving your hand from under his chin to instead grasp his soft hair, pulling at it so his head was tugged back. He gurgled at the feeling but it was quickly cut off as your lips sought out his, colliding with him. This kiss was messy but hot, making him moan as the sensation shot straight down to his crotch. Both your lips moved upon each other, opening up to press against each other’s lips but it lead the two of you to often miss your mark, instead brushing your lips upon the whole of his lower face as you tried to find his again. Finally, his bottom lip slotted between yours and your teeth bit lightly down upon it, pulling at his lip making him whimper from the sensations. But as soon as the kiss had started it had ended. You let go of him, getting off your seat and stepping over his hunched over body on the floor. You made a beeline towards the door, leaving it open as you passed through. Not supporting himself on your knee anymore, Laszlo collapsed onto the ground, lying curled up within himself due to lack of energy. His hips twitched as if they had a mind of his own, thrusting into the air in desperation, making him sob from the lack of stimulation.

The next day you and Laszlo took a trip out to one of his favourite restaurants, Delmonicos. Laszlo was excited to see what the cook would surprise him with this evening, as often was the tradition when you two took an outing out to his restaurant. The staff knew you well and Laszlo enjoyed the surprise of new food and often work through many different courses. However, that excitement soon swapped to dread and lustfulness as he saw the way your eyes glimmered with mischief and how your lips pulled into a sly smile. You sat opposite from Laszlo at first and made no adventitious towards him, lulling him into a false sense of security, which he paid for very quickly when he made the mistake of leaving his legs open. You shot your foot forward before he had the chance to close his legs, slotting between them and pressing against his crotch.

Lighty, you pressed down further upon his crotch causing Laslzo to whimper from the pressure placed upon him. He bit his lip in an attempt to push down the noises that came to his throat and he scrunched his eyes closed, trying his best to focus not letting other’s dining in the well-respected restaurant hear him. He knew he should have booked a private room.

Laszlo felt he was succeeding in suppressing his moans from the ever-increasing pressure your foot placed upon him, but then he heard an awkward cough beside him and he finally opened his eyes and looked up to see the waiter looking down at him confused.

Laszlo instantly straightened himself, his cheeks turning bright red that not even his beard could hide as he scrambled for a napkin, placing it brashly over his crotch in an attempt to hide where your foot resided. He thanked the waiter for taking in his order of drinks and then he turned to glare at you, his eyes trying to pierce right through you and remind you exactly where the two of you were. You however were desperately trying to hold back a laugh threatening to rip from his throat at how flustered Laszlo had become at almost being caught.

You eventually removed your foot to grant him some slight mercy but the damage was already done. Laszlo could feel the blood shoot down to his crotch, causing his erection to press up against his slacks again and he growled in frustration, knowing no amount of food would be able to distract him from this. He crossed his legs over, using his left leg to push down the erection as much as he could. To his horror though the situation only grew worse for him when he suddenly heard John Moores grating voice calling to him.

John appeared beside the twins, Marcus and Lucius, smiling down happily at the two of you, remarking at how it was a coincidence all of you meeting at this time but then joking about how perhaps it wasn’t due to how Laszlo seemed to spend all of his time here.

“People often ask me, ‘Where do you find Dr Kreizler, at the institute I assume’ and I always have to inform them instead, ‘if you want to find the man in a good mood, he will always be at Delmonico’s, treat him to a meal and he’ll sing to you about psychology like a canary” John chortled, earning a glare from Laszlo.

Though the twins were a lot more apprehensive, not wanting to disturb the two of you, John seemed to pay this no mind and invited himself to sit down at the table. Allowing space for the twins to also sit down, you scooted your chair over till you were now sat beside Laszlo rather than opposite him.

He flinched when he suddenly felt your hand grab a hold of his thigh, squeezing it as the corners of your mouth rose into a smirk causing Laszlo to gulp. You didn’t move your hand at first, just letting it rest upon his leg as you engaged in a discussion with Marcus while Laszlo kept John and Lucius entertained, but slowly your hand just to trail up his thigh, your fingers digging into the soft material of his slacks as you moved higher up to his protruding erection.

The first order of the dish arrived, soup, and Laszlo licked his lips in anticipation, thrilled to finally start eating but as he picked up his spoon, eagerly bringing it to his lips, you finally moved your hand to grasp his bulge through his slacks.

Laszlo sputtered into the spoon from the sudden contact, his legs twitching in jolts at the pressure and pleasure suddenly flooding him. John and the twins glance over at Laszlo confused by his reaction and Laszlo dabs his spilt soup with his napkin and mutters an apology to everyone claiming he inhaled some of it, which sufficed as a reasonable explanation to everyone who went to focus back on their soup.

With one hand, you ate your soup, while your other hand slowly groped Laszlo, pushing your hand into his crotch to bump against his erection, occasionally squeezing it causing Laszlo to instinctively push his hips forward.

He had to bite down on his lip harshly, almost drawing blood to suppress the groan that threatened to leave him as the pleasure mounted, driving all reasonable thoughts from his mind. By the time the waiters came to take the soup back he had hardly touched it causing everyone else to shoot Laszlo confused glances knowing how much he enjoyed his food.

“You’ve hardly touched your soup!” John remarked in surprise, “And you’ve come down with an awful blush, are you well?”

Laszlo wanted to swear under his breath at John’s loud observations, bringing everyone’s attention back to him which he desperately wanted to avoid. Gulping from feeling your grasp tightening upon him quietly he managed to muster out, “A bit under the weather I’m afraid John, but it’s nothing to concern yourself with”

The second dish arrived and that was when you decided it was time to up the ante, to see just how far you could push Laszlo this evening. As the sound of the plates being placed down made a rattle, none of them heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down. But Laszlo certainly did.

A small whine emitted from him as his face scrunched up. The feeling of your warm fingers pressing into his soft flesh, brushing up and down his length did all sorts of wonders to him. Quickly his erection pushed up even further causing Laszlo’s body to stiffen with tension. Once again he thrust his hip a fraction upwards, seeking to feel the friction of your hand moving up and down his cock. Laszlo was mortified you dare do something like this so in public, with your friends on either side of you. If any of them looked under the table, even for a split second, they would see the way his cock was out on show, the way your fingers held him, teasing him, how high his erection was. Any ounce of respect they might have had for Laszlo would instantly leave.

At home he was free to moan, groan, whimper all he needed for you, but here he couldn’t dare do so without regaining attention from him, and you were determined to see how far you could push him to hear those delightful noises escape his mouth unwittingly.

You lightly dragged your nails up and down him, tracing the throbbing vein that stuck out in him. Your thumb grazed over his incredibly sensitive tip, deep purple by this point and oozing with pre-cum that aided you in pumping his shaft easier. His cock twitched within your hand, desperately seeking that friction to release as endless days of teasing.

When you placed your cutlery down to allow the waiters to take your second dish, you put your hand under the table as well. To the rest of the people at the table, it simply looked as if you were resting your hands upon your lap, in reality, your spare hand was now cupping Laszlo’s balls. You fondled them, feeling the way skin soft skin upon them tightened under your fingers, the way Laszlo hissed through his teeth at the contact.

As the next dish arrived, Laszlo buried himself in the food, trying to suppress his moans by filling his mouth with it. He might of seem greedy at the moment in front of his friends but he had decided that was better than them realising his current predicament.

He felt him grow increasingly close, however, and that made him fear for the worst. From this relentless edging, the chance of his release taking less time than usual was significantly higher but you wouldn’t let him cum here, not in front of all his friends. Not in a respected establishment. Laszlo didn’t believe in a god but he was ready to pray that that was the case. Laszlo knew if he orgasmed now he wouldn’t be able to hold back the moan that spurred from him, the ecstasy would be too immense.

Whimpering quietly, his head turned towards you, sending you a pleading look. In his eyes they shone with desperation, wetness starting to consume them as he tried to non verbally beg you to stop, to have mercy upon him.

Mercy came rather quicker than both of you expect however when John accidentally knocked his knife to the ground creating such a loud noise it made the two of you jump out of your skins in sudden surprise.

“Oh silly me!” he claimed, bending over to push his head under the table cloth in an attempt to find where his knife and landed and to pick it up.

Just as Laszlo felt his impending release coming, the feeling his load in his shaft, swelling him up and ready to burst out of him at any moment, quick as lightening you pushed his erection back into his slacks, pulling the zip up before John could observe any miscreants under the table.

While Laszlo ached from his orgasm being ripped away from him once again, he shot you a thankful glance for stopping before John could see what had happened and saved him from relentless teasing and embarrassment from John. Though he knew John wouldn’t be one to spread rumours about him, John certainly would remark about it to him and with the exceedingly loud voice he possessed, any stranger could overhear what he had to say and Laszlo feared what the people who disliked him greatly would make of it.

He should have known it was far from over though. Later that night again you were down upon him, his slacks pulled down to his ankles, your hands grasping his twitching thighs as he was pressed up against his house door. He hardly got a chance to close it before you were upon him, ripping his slacks down. Taking your mouth off his cock you lick your lips and glance back up at him teasing him for having his cock out so open in public.

“You enjoyed it didn’t you” you’d whisper, your hot breath washing over his cock making him whimper, “Being on display like that. You became so erect from it. I think secretly you wanted to get caught”

“No,” Laszlo whispered, trying to deny such claims, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Oh yes you did, you wanted to get caught, shown to the world as the whore you are”

A shiver went through his spine, tears springing to his eyes which he despairingly tried to hold back, but a cry echoed out of him as he felt your warm lips wrap around his tip again, swirling your tongue over it.

But like every night before he was left just on the edge of pleasure, but never getting that release he needed.

The next day he had arranged to meet up with John for a walk, to exercise the brain by teaching John about psychology. He was preparing his outfit for the day, when your hands grasped his shoulders as he felt his back suddenly pressed against the wall, causing a slight yelp of pain and surprise to pass through his mouth.

Laszlo looked at you wide-eyed, seeing how blown your pupils were with lust, but before he could make any remark you dipped your face into the crook of his neck, lighting tugging his skin in your mouth. He cried out at the pain and the bliss of it all, his hand shooting up to grab your hair, not knowing whether to pull you away or hold you close.

You let go of his skin though, instead now placing your lips over the part you just bit and sucking at it, humming to yourself as you saw the instant darkening of his skin, a bruise already forming.

Laszlo’s jaw was slack as he moaned as the feeling of your lips trailing all over his neck leaving wet marks all over him while simultaneously sucking and biting marks onto his neck, covering him so delicately everyone would know exactly who he belonged to. His eyelids fluttered in a daze and his hips buckling as your lips found the paluse in his neck and harshly sucked upon it.

“Y/n” he moaned loudly, his fingers wrapping themselves tighter in your hair to tug at you, making a moan pull from your throat as well as you felt your hair which you had so neatly tied up, come loose from the pins as his hand pulled further.

By the time you were done with him, he was panting heavily, sweat beads upon his forehead, dark marks trailing down his neck and a tent sticking up in his slacks, which seemed now permanently stretched to compensate for the fact he often had an erection.

“You don’t want to keep John waiting!” you teased as you walked away, hearing Laszlo groan at the realisation he was supposed to meet John at any minute though now he was in no state to do so. Ordering Cryus to get the calash ready he quickly ran around his room, attempting to find ways to cover all the bruises on his neck and his erection.

While Laszlo was out you decided to take a walk of yourself to enjoy the park within New York. You loved to observe all the lovely flowers that bloomed during this time of the year and the way the multicoloured birds flew past you, singing their pretty song. While there you encountered a boy selling newspapers, you gave him a shilling and picked up the newspaper, wanting to see what idle gossip was being spread amongst the people today, but a frown was cast upon your face when you started to read exactly what the latest story said.

In the evening Laszlo collapsed through the door exhausted. Every day this edging had been taking a toll on him, as he was brought upon the peak repeatedly it made him an exhausted mess, and in trying to ensure John did not notice the bruises on his neck or the way his slacks stuck out, it tired him immensely.

He dragged his feet through his house, stumbling into the main room, almost collapsing on the floor but he managed to pull himself slightly together and in glancing up spotted you sitting down at the table, clasping your hands in front of you with today’s newspaper beside you.

“Please y/n, no more edging, I can’t cope” he whispered in a broken voice, looking imploringly at you.

“Have you seen the newspapers today Laszlo?” you ask him, and his eyebrows cast down in confusion his lips moving wordlessly for a brief second.

“I have been… otherwise engaged”

“It mentions you in it”

Laszlo’s skin paled as he realised what exactly was written about him in the newspaper. In this whole week’s worth of torment, he had lacked the chance, or rather the courage to tell you why he had snapped at you. He knew he should of for he didn’t want you to find out in this way, but he had been a coward and now it was time to face his comeuppance for repeatedly withholding the truth from you.

“Y/n..” he began to say, taking a hesitantly step towards you but you had already pushed yourself out of your seat and met him in the middle. You looked up at him, with an unreadable expression and Laszlo almost flinched when he felt your hand cup the side of his face, not expecting it.

“The other day, when you snapped at me, it’s because you were worried about that boy, wasn’t it?” you whispered and observed as Laszlo hung his head in shame at the reminder of what he did to you.

“Yes,” he said so quietly even a bat would have struggled to hear it.

You breathe in as you finally understand Laszlo’s predicament, and what you had made him suffer for this whole week because of it.

“It says you were hit”

“The father… he had a mean right hook”

You sigh, almost feeling tears pool in your eyes from sympathy towards Laszlo. Finally, you took a good look upon him as if ultimately observing him for the first time and seeing how tired and worn out he was. Not only had you been putting him under a great amount of tension, but his work had also been eating away at him and he had to nurse his sore jaw back to health.

“Oh, Laszlo” you whispered, wishing he had just told you this sooner.

Laszlo swallowed, feeling guilty for keeping it a secret from you but he became surprised when he felt your gentle lips brush onto his, pulling him into a kiss. The hand that rested on the side of his face moved back to tangle its fingers within his hair, holding his face close to you as you started to push harder into the kiss, moving your lips which Laszlo instantly recoupled. It was needy, desperate, passionate as your bodies pressed into each other.

Your lips hardly left his as you continuously pushed him back till you entered your bedroom. He didn’t notice the change of setting until you finally pulled away from his lips, just to press your hands to his chest and push him onto the bed.

Laszlo flopped down and grasped the duvet of the bed in surprise, looking around briefly at the bed and then back to you who stood before him, smirking at seeing him lying down before you in anticipation. Instantly you crawled onto him, your lips going to nip along his jawline making him gasp softly. Your hands worked at the buttons of his waistcoat, but it was taking too long to undress him.

Grasping the material of his dress shirt in your hand, you ripped it open, tearing it down the middle until it was left in shreds and exposed his chest for you.

Laszlo whined, exclaiming how expensive that was, but you shut him up by shoving your tongue into his opened mouth. You pressed your tongue against him, coxing it to move along with you as you explored every inch of his mouth, determined to feel all of it with your tongue. It made Laszlo hum with approval as he felt the way your tongue felt in his mouth.

Your hands trailed along his chest, running your fingers through the slight amount of body hair that had grown upon him. It felt coarse in your hands but you loved the feeling of it upon your palms. Lightly your fingers tugged upon it, trying not to be too harsh upon him but nevertheless, he moaned into your mouth from it.

You didn’t want to wait around any longer now, and you knew Laszlo couldn’t bear it either. You pulled back from his lips, a trail of saliva linking the two of you for a breath second till it broke. You wanted to laugh at the way his erection poked up so clearly in his slacks, how it had seemed he never stopped having one and his slacks had therefore adjusted to it. Without a seconds hesitation, your hand pulled down the slacks as fast as you could, ripping them off his legs leaving him completely in the nude.

His erection instantly rose, now free of its condiments. The tip was a deep purple and you knew how aching it must be. Already pre-cum smeared the tip, leaking out of Laszlo in excitement. The vein upon him you could see eagerly throbbing in anticipation, desperate for you. You found his cock so pretty, and you just wanted to pepper it in kisses, but now was not the time. He needed to be inside of you at last, and who were you to deny him.

Quickly you rid yourself of your own restricting clothes, and Laszlo watched with pure admiration towards you as your body was exposed to him. He particularly whined as you finally revealed your chest and his mouth was salivating at the thought of taking them in his mouth.

You clambered onto his hips and positioned yourself above him. You took his cock in one hand, making sure he aligned with your cunt, and Laszlo’s hands reached to grab your thighs, stabilizing yourself and for his own sake to have something to cling to.

Taking in one last deep breath, you pushed your hips onto him with a quick thrust downwards, sliding his cock into you.

Laszlo’s head hit the pillow as a loud moan echoed out of him, the hands grasping your thighs tightened, surely leaving bruises for the morning. The feeling of your wet, velvet walls taking him in, opening up for him and surrounding him in heat was orgasmic, and he did almost cum at that very moment. He felt like crying from the swarm of pleasure washing over him, after all these times of handjobs and blowjobs, finally to be buried inside of you was blissful. Instantly his hips tried to push up, attempting to shove himself further into you.

Placing your hands upon your chest, you lift your hips up just to slam them back down onto his hips. A broken sob echoed out of Laszlo from the friction, and already you were panting from the feeling of how Laszlo’s wide girth opened you up, pushing into that spongy spot inside of you that sent electric waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You started to move your hips faster and faster upon him, the sound of clapping mixed with loud moaning from the two of you likely could be heard from anyone in the house. Laszlo rocked his hips in time with you, feeling the need to plunder into you.

“I’m-I’m close” he managed to tell you between gasps.

You looked down upon him and your heart fluttered at the way his cheeks, even coved by his beard, were bright red. His eyes were half open and completely glazed in lust, his lips were puffy from the way you ravaged them earlier but they looked so beautiful now as they hung open from the way he was continuously gasping after every thrust into you.

Your hands left his chest to grasp his shoulders and you coxed him up till his chest was pushed against yours and his hands instantly moved to grasp your back. His stronger hand was placed between your shoulder blades while his other hand was able to rest on the dip of your back. From this position, it was easier for him to thrust into you, and so he did with quick, harsh thrusts that were accompanied by deep grunts. His lips moved from your ears as he bent down slightly to press kisses to your chest. But from all this edging it didn’t take him any time at all to reach his climax and for a second, for a split second, he feared you would rip it away again, that he would be left unsatisfied and aching in torment.

And then he came.

He let out such a lewd moan that if he had more of his wits about him, he would have been deeply blushing at. But instead, his head flew back and you had to grasp his back to ensure he wouldn’t fall back onto the bed. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head as the most powerful orgasm he’s ever had washed through him. His legs shook from the stimulation making his whole body convulse, his fingers dug into your back, leaving crescent-shaped marks upon him. You were a moaning mess yourself, feeling the way his seed splattered against your walls, coating them in an oozing warmth. Laszlo continued to cry out from the pleasure as he slowly thrust in time with him pumping, excessive amounts of cum flowing out of him from all the times he had been worked up.

Finally, after what you swore must have been a good few minutes, his thrusts slowed as the final dribble of cum flowed out of him and his head went slack against your shoulder. His body shuddered in timing with his pants as he gasped for breath, feeling like he had just run for his life. His heartbeat steadily against his chest, and from the way you two were so close to each other, it felt as if his heartbeat was one with your own.

He rested there, just enjoying being surrounded by your heart until suddenly you started moving your hips upon him again.

His face shot up to yours in surprise, instantly gasping, “Y/n” but you just smirked.

“After all this time Laszlo,” you started to say, stroking his face, “Would you expect me to let you get away with one orgasm? I haven’t even had my own yet”

And with that, you lifted your hips and slammed back down onto him.

Laszlo cried out, tears springing to his eyes from the sudden overstimulation. His tip hurt, ached as it was pushed up against your walls, but his body betrayed him as you felt him hardening within you again.

You pushed Laszlo back down onto the bed again, and gently you grasped his wrists. With his stronger hand, you pulled it up to his head and held it down there, while with his deformed hand you brought it up to your face, and wrapped your lips around his fingers, sucking them gently.

He bit down on his lip, nearly drawing blood as he watched as you did that, making his heart flutter even more from the love for you that overwhelmed him.

As you thrust down upon him, you let go of his hands to push your body down and press your breasts upon his face, instantly he sort for your nipples and wrapped his lips around one, running his tongue along them and sucking.

He adored your breasts and the way your nipples harden under his touches. Sucking upon you brought him comfort and peace but he had to let go as he suddenly felt once again another orgasm pulling close to him.

Tears streamed from his eyes as he started chanting your name between broken sobs, his hips thrusting up on their own once again seeking his orgasm, and shuddering, you felt him twitch and throb within you as he released his seed again. Less this time but still powerful that you felt it pool into you, making you feel full with his already laid load in you.

By now Laszlo was completely spent, his sweat sticky body pressing into the bedsheets, his breath shallow as he tried to recover from it but still you moved your hips upon him.

“Please” he cried out “I- I-I can’t come again. It hurts too much” he sobbed but you sushed him.

“I know you can darling, you be my good boy and treat me okay”

He whimpered in response, feeling pins and needles attacking his tip but still down to your command he thrust his hips lightly into you again.

His body was flushed and trembling in your grasp, broken moans coming from his raw throat but still you rode him, harshly and tightly till you felt your own throes of an orgasm crash down upon you.

As Laszlo felt your cunt grasp him tightly, pulling him in and fluttering around him, it brought him to one last brink. He cried out so loudly the whole street probably heard. It was pain mixed with pleasure as he came. His eyes scrunched up tightly and his mouth was open agaite as he cried, and pushed out the last bits of cum from his poor, throbbing cock.

He finally went limp and you collapsed upon his chest, too exhausted to do anything else. Neither of you moved, instead panting loudly as you tried to steady your breath. Eventually his arms wrapped around you again, and he placed gentle kisses all upon your face,

“Thank you” he croaked and you shot him a confused glance.

“Just- thank you”

A/N: Tomorrow (Sunday 11th) I will be starting my 900 followers celebration in which I will be writing drabble for any requests I get in. I'll be releasing more detail in the morning (bst time) about it, which Daniel characters I will be writing for and one surprise non-Daniel character I will be including in the list 😌 so keep a watch out for that if you would like to send any requests in

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