#ulysses klaue x reader smut

[eupheme]

— fold into me

ulysses klaue x f!reader

rated e - 2k

tags: sleepy morning sex, nightmares, pinning down / body restraint, light d/s, fucking the thoughts from reader, teasing, edging, sort-of v. light degradation, PiV, vibrating appendages, oral fixation, implied creampie(s)

a/n: inspired by this post, I read it and had crush me thoughts

Klaue doesn’t want you to worry. In fact - when you’re in his bed, he doesn’t want you thinking at all.

Klaue can hear you worry.

It settles over him, a silent weight as heavy as the gaze that drags over his profile in the soft, early morning.

You shouldn’t be awake. Not yet.

A rare day off, the promises of a day spent together. A nightmare waking you in the early hours instead - leaving you crying out as he’s ripped away by hands that clawed at him. Twining around his legs, threatening to pull him under - into the black depths, while you still reached for him.

They always seem to the come in the days just before he leaves. You can’t help the pit of worry that forms in your stomach - the fingers that rest against his ribs curling into fists, as you resist the urge to reach out and touch.

Craving the reassurance. To confirm that he is still here. That it was just a dream.

You were aware what you were getting into when you first started seeing him. There were secrets of course, but never about what he was. Your world orbited his, never fully joining, but you knew.

The stories and the whispered weight of his name. The deals and the fights and the danger. A twist of tattoos that dip beneath his clothes. The fresh and faded scars, and an arm made from metal.

That he was a bad man.

But never to you.

Your eyes drag over the angle of his nose. Past a strong jaw, the stubble darkening his cheekbones, to be scraped clean when he rises. To the thick fan of dark eyelashes against his cheeks.

And then a sharp glint of blue, as one eye cracks open.

“Should be sleeping,” He rumbles - the thunder before a storm.

Your reply is on the tip of your tongue before he is striking - quick, in spite of the breadth of his chest and shoulders. All you manage is a little squeak before he’s rolling you beneath him.

His weight presses into you - chest, hips, thighs. Pinning you to the bed as you squirm, an arm shoving under the curve of your spine. The other tucking under the pillow, as his cheek scrubs against yours.

“Klaue,” You protest, “I was just-”

“Don’t want you thinking,” His voice is low and rasping with sleep.

You huff, still shifting. But the weight - you have to admit it is nice. Crushing you into the mattress, a silent command to slow down and stop, for just a moment.

And so, you go still.

Taking in the moment. Seeing if sleep will tug at you again. Your hands slipping from beneath to slide up on either side of his ribs. Fingers folding together on his back in an embrace, the slow cadence of his breath warm against your ear.

It is soothing, but you’re too wound up. A skittering beneath your skin. Eyes fixed on the ceiling above - afraid that if they close, if you do sleep, you might dream again.

Your fingers eventually start to trace against skin, and he sighs at your touch. Nails dragging down his spine, the tips working into stiff muscles.

Only to freeze when you press too-hard into something tender - a hidden, half-healed wound - hearing the sharp intake of air through teeth.

The worry slips right back in.

He clucks his tongue at you. Don’t, you’re sure he’s saying. There’s a drag of his face against yours, bristle over soft skin, before it dips lower.

Warm lips press against the pulse point of your throat, the cant of his hips downward. It is now that you feel him - the thick curve pressed into the hinge of your bare thigh - that you squirm for another reason.

It’s difficult, with your legs pinned together, trapped between his parted ones. The hand between his shoulder slipping down and beneath sheets - flattening in the dip of his spine. The weight of his hard cock increasing, where it digs into bare skin, leaving a wet smear behind.

“Klaue.” You sigh his name this time, trying to lift your body against his. Hips to hip, the curves of your skin matching his. Gripping on now, instead of trying to slip free.

You crave him, and he rewards you. Splitting your thighs, his own working between them. Twining his ankles with yours, so much like the grasping hands from your dreams.

Theres another troubled flicker in your mind, before his legs are shifting. Slowly spreading them wide, taking yours along with them.

Opening you up, baring where you’re sticky and slick from the night before. From now - the press of his mouth and his words and his weight, as the need blooms in your belly again.

Your nose brushes his temple, in your search for him. Fingers twisting into thick, greying curls, trying to draw his face to yours.

A low hum of amusement, before he meets you. It’s hungry, your hands moving to wrap around his shoulder. Whining into his mouth when his hips lift and roll, his cock slipping down to press snugly against your cunt.

You swear you can feel every inch and ridge of him, as you clench in anticipation. Eyes closed as you concentrate on the sparks that arc up your spine with each needy buck of your hips.

How each time makes the velvet skin more slick, until he’s glistening with you. Nudging against your clit, teasing at your opening.

“This what you want?” Klaue’s lips brush yours. His voice still slow and smooth, content to wait. Letting you rut against him, as your teeth nip at his jaw.

You moan your assent, breathless. The weight of him presses against your ribs, leaving you dizzy. Another low laugh as he reaches between you, a fist wrapping around the base. Holding himself steady, the flushed head just nudging at where you need him.

“Come on, then.” He rasps.

And then, he goes still.

Leaving you wanting. Squirming again, as your eyes flip up to his. Seeing the darkened amusement, the careful way Klaue watches you. Fully awake now, but still keeping you pinned so carefully.

A living sculpture carved from flesh and muscle. Undeterred by the promise of your warm cunt, by the needy press of your lips against his skin and the thick weight of anticipation.

He wants you to do it.

You realize that, as he waits. It’s hard to move, with the spread pull of your thighs, pinned as you are. Hands bracing on his shoulders - trying to push yourself down, to impale yourself on him.

It makes you take him slow. Nails digging into his skin as he nudges a little deeper with each rock of your hips.

Leaving it impossible to think of anything else but him, as he splits you open. As you ache to be filled, already clenching down around him, trying to draw him deeper.

His breathing is harsh through his nose. Warm against your skin, the brush of his knuckles across your belly and breasts and tight peaks of your nipples on their way back up. Elbows and forearms planting in the mattress on either side of you, just barely adjusting his weight.

Each thrust of your hips is shallow. He’s not fully seated in you, only what you’ve managed to work inside so far.

It teases at what you want. What you need. Your initial spike pleasure quickly plateauing with the minutes that pass - the grind of your hips not nearly enough.

Leaving you teetering on the edge - your desperation dripping down his cock, sticky on your inner thighs.

“Please,” You try to whine, your face pressed into his neck. Mouthing at the brand, teeth scraping where shoulder meets neck.

The word become disconnected between your thoughts and your lips. Half gasped and half sighed, lost in the muted buzz of the city awakening outside.

“Are you still worrying?” He asks, his pulse fluttering against your lips. Betraying him, revealing that he’s not nearly as unaffected as he’s been pretending.

Hitching his hips forward, sinking deeper. Again your answer is more sound than words, drawn from deep in your chest.

“Oh,” He sighs, with that grin. Pulling back to let his nose brush against yours, seeing how gone you are, “You’re not thinking about anything at all, are you?”

Your thighs flex, brow pinching as he suddenly hilts himself. A gasp ripping from you at the way he fills you, your pussy making room for his thick girth. The heavy weight of his sack resting against the curve of your ass, coarse hairs already sticky.

“Oh, fuck. Good girl.” Klaue’s teeth clench, feeling how you wrap so perfectly around him. How you arch against his chest, panting as you adjust.

His voice dropping lower, with a smooth roll of his hips, “You listened so well, so I’ll give you what you need.”

And he does, the shallow thrusts you’ve managed turning into the rutting of his hips. Skin slapping against skin as the curves of his cock drag along your inner walls.

Pushing himself higher on his arms until you’re chanting his name, the fat head stroking against the soft, spongey spot that brings in the night again, making you see stars.

Your groan is guttural, eyes slipping shut again. No longer tethered to the bed, now somewhere far beyond - solely focused on the snap of his hips, the burn of pleasure with each plunge of his cock. Muscles already stringing tight, toes curling in blissful anticipation.

Missing his sharp smile in the early light, all white and shining gold. How he moves then, bracing himself again on a tattooed arm as the other slips downward.

The tips of his fingers whir - just barely activating the mechanisms inside. Pressing them cruelly against your clit, pinching the tight bud between two of them.

It’s too much - steady pulse of the vibration, the sharp punch of his cock. All-encompassing, until your mind is truly blank. The mindless grinding of your hips against his, chasing his fingers, the high that you can almost reach. Each breath shorter, everything winding tighter and tighter, and then -

With a ragged cry, you feel yourself shatter in his arms.

Your vision goes white and hazy as the edges, his name broken as you sob it. A different kind of wave crashes over you, the ripples flowing down your limbs, from your molten core.

His words muted, but you collect what you can. Growled endearments that slip between bared teeth.

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

“Look at you, so fucking good for me.”

It’s bliss, this frozen moment in time.

You’re boneless, when he finally slips his legs free, hitching your thighs around his hips. Pleasure-drunk on the ambrosia that glitters in your veins, his hand lifting from between your thighs to pinch at your chin.

His thumb smearing across your bottom lip, eyes darkening as you part them automatically. Tongue dipping out to taste yourself, a sweet tang against his skin.

“There you go.” Klaue coos, seeing the dazed look as your lips close around and suck.

His own end not far off, with the warm grip of your cunt and mouth - the broken echo of his name ringing in his ears.

Knowing for certain that he has you thoroughly distracted. Starting a slow pace as he grins, an idea forming. Your eyes fluttering - threatening to roll shut again when his hand slips free, your lips parting with a sigh.

His hips pulling back - easing his cock out just enough to circle his thumb and finger around the base.

The vibrations start again as he drives himself deep, traveling down his shaft. Pulsing inside you, nudging against that spot again, as your eyes snap open with a sharp cry.

If he can hold off just a little bit longer - he thinks - he’s certain to coax out another.

Because when it comes to you, he’s nothing if not thorough.

This time, when he relaxes - his weight settling over you, a warm and welcome blanket - you find that your mind has gone blissfully silent.

Content to fold yourself into him. Arms wrapping around, head tilting to rest against his. Mimicking without thought the easy rise and all of his breaths, your quickened pulse slowly following.

He murmurs something soft and low, though you’re already gone.

Off to a sleep that, for both of you, comes easy.

He vibrated the glass, and it vibrated my - *gunshot*

[citrus-moonlight]

Salvation is a Deep Dark Well

Chapter 3: Now When I Look In Your Eyes

[ Masterlist - Part Two ] -> [ Masterlist - Part One ]

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Word count: 9.4K Chapters: 3/6 Rating: Explicit

Summary: You manage to distract yourself for long enough to make through the rest of the day, but when Klaue finally returns to you he still makes you wait, surprising you with something unexpected before finally making good on his promise.

Warnings: Explicit!, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Use of Pet Names, Teasing, Smut, Dirty Talk, Reference to Masturbation (F), Mild Size Kink, Soft Dom, Nipple Play, Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Begging, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms (F), PIV Sex, Cock Riding, Cream Pie, Praise Kink, Needy Dom, Very Brief Fingering, Cum Eating, Porn With Plot, Reader is In It Now Kids, More Accidental Feelings Oh No

Author's Note: Hello, friends, and welcome back! When I tell you I'm very glad I split up this chapter - this was essentially supposed to be a chapter "prologue" of maybe 2k, and then, well, *gestures broadly*. Klaue wants what he wants, what can I say. 😏

The next chapter is going to be an undertaking (gala!), and I can't really give a timeline at this point, but it's at least outlined and in the meantime you can read their little holiday interlude (which I accidentally wrote first, lol) and it'll now be in order! ☺️

As always, thank you for reading and for sticking with me, I hope you enjoy this next chapter! 💕

✨ Read on AO3 ✨

Chapter title is from "Come Alive" by Cannons

Now that you're by my side I get this feeling, get this feeling Like I'm hypnotized Now when I see your eyes I get this feeling, get this feeling I just come alive And I've been dreaming of you Do you dream of me too?

Through every ounce of will you can summon you somehow manage to last.

After stopping by your room to quickly wash and change, you realize once you get back to the industrial sector that there’s not enough of your shift left to justify starting on any new projects, so instead you occupy yourself with busy work - finally putting away your station that was left in disarray after the tense altercation earlier, and getting rid of everyone’s scrap that's been piling up in the workspace.

Then you trudge through a layer of fresh snow to finally finish the inventory that you’d attempted to start two days ago before everything had gone to shit.

Even as you try to focus on the tedium of the various tasks you inevitably find yourself turning over Klaue’s request - his command - in your mind.

Honestly, you probably wouldn’t have done more than think about it, having really just been wanting to tease him (which you’re starting to enjoy doing, perhaps a little too much), but on top of the natural frustration from being interrupted, then being told that you couldn’t? 

He'd managed to find a way to drive you mad even when he was nowhere near you.

Waves of heat roll through you as you make entries in the log, and every time you move you’re growing increasingly aware of the slick sensation between your thighs, a reminder that you’re already making a mess of your fresh panties.

And, so? What do you want?

Besides whatever he’ll give you.

Besides everything.

A thick index finger slowly sinking into you, dragging and curling while his thumb rubs your throbbing clit until you’re shaking.

Another tick on your paperwork and you circle the total a little more aggressively than necessary, leaving a little tear in the paper, ink marking the page beneath.

Locking up the first cage you move on to the next, feeling as though plumes of steam should be visibly rolling off of you, and eyeing a snowdrift you wonder if it would draw too much attention if you just lay down on it face first. It seems like the only thing that might actually cool you off right now as the overlap of memory and anticipation has an aching heat wrapping around your hips and flowing outward from deep in your belly.

His thigh pressed against your sex, but now you're bare for him, the hair on his leg dark with your arousal as strong muscles flex beneath you, and this time you rut against him for as long as you want.

And he's the first man who's made it feel like it’s alright for you to want. Unafraid of your desire Klaue instead seeks it out, coaxing you to surrender to it, pushing you to admit that it’s yours until you can't help but take and then, oh, the satisfied darkness in his eyes when you do.

As you continue to work you wonder if maybe he’s feeling the same way you are right now. Does it make him hard to think about you while he deals with his men and speaks to important figures? Is he shifting and adjusting himself at the thought of how needy you must be but forced to deny yourself?

Or is he calm, knowing that even now there’s a way that every thought is tethered to him, not thousands of miles away but right here in the same building, waiting.

The idea of him being distracted pleases you, but certainly does nothing to help the throb in your core. You think about how easy it would have been to find a release when you’d stopped by your room, and now you're growing so distracted that you’re tempted to go back or to slip away into a washroom. It would be quick with how worked up you are and then maybe you’d be able to actually concentrate.

After all, how would he know if you did?

And yet a part of you knows that it wouldn’t be satisfying, not really. That same part that connects to the tugging desire to be good, that wants him to be pleased that you’ve obeyed.

So you shake your head and fall back on a trick you use to help curb your emotions when you’ve had to deal with shitty people throughout your career, starting to rhyme off words in your head - glow, tomorrow, elbow, tempo, Orinoco Flow. Gradually your mind begins to calm a bit, and after several slow breaths the ache ebbs enough that you’re able to focus back on the tanks and the clipboard in your hand.

Once you settle into a rhythm you manage to finish the inventory pretty quickly, even if can’t completely stop your mind from spinning a little, and as you lock everything up and head back to drop off the paperwork with Tom, you finally have to admit to yourself that you knew what your answer was going to be as soon as Klaue told you to decide.

Several hours later the sun has fully set when you open your door to the welcome sight of Klaue standing in the hallway.

You want to reach out for him, to grab his shirt and pull him to you, but for now you simply watch as he walks in and slowly shuts the door behind him and turns to face you.

“Did you have enough water?” 

You can’t help but huff a laugh that the first thing out of his mouth is to make sure you’d listened to what he’d said, even though he must be more than aware that all you want is for him to throw you onto the bed.

“I’ve been drinking.” You assure him, though you can’t help rolling your eyes a little. 

His gaze narrows, not questioning but still eyeing the half-empty bottle on your nightstand.

“And you’re feeling alright?”

“I’m feeling like I might lose my mind if you don’t touch me soon,” you all but scoff.

“You know what I mean, darling,” he warns, sharp eyes flicking down to your lips.

For the love of god, please just kiss me.

“Still good, Ulysses, I swear. And I promise I’ll let you know if I’m not.”  you reply, sweetly frustrated, but you can’t help but smile at his concern.

He seems placated, but still doesn’t approach you.

“And did you work past your shift?”

You swear to god one more question and you’re just going to throw yourself at him, though this one still gives you pause.

It had been your instinct to, you can’t deny it, tempted to find more to occupy yourself so that you wouldn’t be quite so trapped with your thoughts. But you’d resisted, and once you passed off the paperwork there was no real reason to stick around.

“No. I didn’t.” 

You feel a little silly at the giddiness that follows your truthful reply and the pleased grin that twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“And you waited.”

These words are lower and there is no question in them. 

You’re certain that he already knows the answer, that he could tell as soon as he’d walked in the door. You’ve been antsy, unable to stop shifting on your feet, your restless hands unconsciously picking up your scarf from the table by the door and twisting the short fringe into tiny spikes during this exchange. 

“I did.” 

Slowly he steps toward you, plucking the scarf from your fingers and dropping it back on the table.

“I’m glad to hear it.” His voice drops, your breath hitching in anticipation when a hand lifts to finally reach for you.

But then he pauses, fingertips a hairsbreadth from your skin. Seeming to consider something he pulls back again and you have to bite back the frustrated noise that wants to escape your throat. 

“Come with me,” Klaue moves away from you, nodding toward the door. 

“I’d very much like to, thanks,” you think, the tingle of the near contact leaving your nerves buzzing, but while you're nearing your wit’s end you can’t help but be curious about what he’s thinking. 

Steeling yourself with a deep breath you nod wordlessly, but as you walk over to grab your key card from the bedside table you make a quick decision. Following the temptation of a thought that you’d been considering earlier you slide open the drawer to find something hidden within, quickly pocketing it along with the key and your phone.

Before you’ve gone very far, though, Klaue directs you to the canteen. You can’t say that this is what you were expecting but you wait quietly, curiosity knitting your brows as he starts to work one of the machines, hot water pouring over a black tea bag as he adds a packet of honey to the dark, steaming liquid. But then instead of drinking it himself he hands it to you.

“I know you didn’t drink enough water,” he chides.

Your mouth drops open though no words come out. 

You want to laugh, acutely aware that you both know the reason for the tea. Eyes wide, you glance around and even though you know that anyone who might be watching will continue on oblivious, when your eyes meet his heat flares between your thighs as you recall the tears that stained your cheeks while you gratefully licked his mess from your lips.

“Thank you.” Your heart races as you bite back a smile and finally wrap your fingers around the proffered drink, and then with a darkening look you feel a hand on the small of your back, swiftly guiding you on your way.

You really had felt fine but as you sip the hot liquid you have to admit that it feels nice as the honey soothes your throat, a frown and another swallow of your tea unable to tamp down the flutter in your chest that seems to match the sweetness on your tongue.

When you reach a familiar juncture you wonder if he wants to finish things where they’d started, but then you make a different turn and then another, leading you away from his office until eventually he stops in front of a door that appears to be down its own hallway. 

The cup freezes on its path to your lips when you notice the key card in his hand and the realization suddenly hits you: These are Klaue’s quarters. 

Oh shit.

It hadn’t even occurred to you as a possibility tonight. Not that you hadn’t thought about it - in fact you’d thought about it more than a few times - but you still feel like a deer caught in the headlights as the lock beeps and clicks open.

Your heart pounds as you follow him inside where you’re greeted by an insistent pinging coming from a workstation in the corner, and with an impatient sound Klaue walks to the desk with a scaled down version of what you’d seen in his office.

“Hm, I need to check on this. I’ll just be a minute.” 

You barely hear him. He could have very well told you that an Asgardian ambassador and the Queen of England were waiting for a video call with him and you’re not sure that you would have reacted. 

As you wait for him you force the analytical side of your brain to kick in and try to observe some of the details, noting that his room is almost identical to your own quarters, just bigger: An open layout, a closet in the same spot, but with something that could actually be considered a proper window. 

The main difference is the additional space akin to an office with the desk and electronics connected to several monitors, which doesn’t really surprise you: Klaue doesn’t strike you as the type to ever really stop working - at least not for very long.

Aside from the cool light emanating from the corner where he’s sitting the room is dim and unexpectedly warm, and as you look around your eyes inexorably stray to the bed (his bed), partially made, the covers and sheets a stoney grey and roughly pulled up to where crooked pillows sit against the headboard and- 

Jesus, you need to sit down. 

Unfortunately the only place to sit right now would be the bed, which just makes you need to sit down even more, and-.

Oh god.

Squeezing your eyes shut you take several slow inhales in an attempt to get your pounding heart under control.

“So..” 

You nearly jump at the sound of his voice, and when your eyes fly back open you see that he’s finished, the monitors now sitting dark behind him.

“Have you decided, darling?” Klaue’s words are deceptively casual, belying the heat in his eyes.

He’s back now, focused entirely on you again, chin propped against his knuckles as his hungry gaze slides over your body, and you can’t help how your own eyes immediately stray to his spread thighs and the prominent ridge between them that’s growing evident even in the low light.

“I have.” You manage to keep your voice soft, but you can’t hide the tremble in your reply.

Pushing himself up out of the chair Klaue slowly saunters over to where you still haven't moved, stopping when he's close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, invisible tendrils of need reaching out for him, desperate to close the gap.

“And?” The word is low and breathless and sets your nerves alight.

Finding it difficult to meet his eyes your teeth catch your lower lip, a shy flush working its way through your body even as your desire flares hot again. 

“Well, it wasn’t easy.” You glance at him through your lashes. “I had a lot of time to think. And there are so many ways that you make me feel good.” 

As you speak he finally reaches out to you, fingers grasping the hem of your shirt and tugging it up until you lift your arms to allow him to pull it over your head.

“Go on.” Klaue prompts, leaving you to swallow a moan when he suddenly drops to his knees.

Looking up at you expectantly his hands slide up the backs of your thighs, briefly cupping and squeezing the curve of your ass before moving to your waist to seek the bare skin there.

“Well, I was thinking about…letting you watch me.”

Fingertips still in their ghosting path just above your waistband.

“I thought about letting you watch how I use my fingers to make myself come when I’m alone here. Alone and wishing you could hear me every time I moan your name.”

You can see that his breathing is going rough at your words, and licking your lips you continue.

“Or maybe…using this.” Slipping your fingers into the pocket in the side of your leggings, you pull out what you’d tucked next to your phone earlier, shining silver and not much bigger than a tube of lipstick.

Brief confusion followed by a sharp look of understanding flashes across Klaue's face as he realizes what you’re holding.

“A vibrator?” His voice is intrigued, a brow arching as he takes the small device from you and turns it over in his fingers, perhaps imagining you using it, writhing in pleasure yet unsatisfied because it’s not him. 

But at the same time you can tell he wasn’t expecting this, his expression coloured perhaps with a shade of disappointment. And that shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. 

He looks like he’s going to say something but holds it back, he’d laid out the parameters, after all. He’d told you that you had to decide how you were going to come, but he didn’t actually say that it had to be him.

“I thought about you watching me with this against my clit, until you decide I’ve had enough. Until I beg you to let me stop.”

You can see his mind working though he’s uncharacteristically quiet, the fingers of his free hand digging into your hip so hard it’s beginning to ache.

“But…then I changed my mind.” 

“Yeah?” Klaue’s voice is strained as he seems to go still as stone, hardly seeming to breathe now, waiting for you to continue.

“I want your mouth, Ulysses.”

A look of pained relief glints across his eyes before hardening back into a vehement blue, and without waiting for you to say anything else he roughly tugs at the waistband of your leggings, peeling them halfway down your thighs, and then with a groaned sigh his lips are suddenly pressed against your clothed mound.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” 

Klaue’s breath is warm through the fabric of your panties, his tone indicating that it may have been less hope and more desperation. 

“Tell me why.” His command is the rumble of a distant storm that sends a shudder through your body.

“Because…I couldn’t stop thinking - I can never stop thinking about it, Ulysses, oh-” 

You gasp when his tongue is suddenly on you, pressing to easily part your cleft before sliding down to taste the damp spot where your arousal has soaked through the fabric.

“Is that all?” He asks with an infuriatingly coy smile, waiting for you to continue. 

“I need your mouth between my legs, I need you to taste what you do to me, what just the thought of you does to me, oh my god-”

He rolls his tongue against your clit, the slick friction quickly growing rougher and more demanding. 

“And because…because I can feel that you want it too, and that makes me feel really fucking good.”

Arching against his mouth your words trail off to a moan, but just as pleasure begins to swirl hot and insistent Klaue pulls away, his fingers tugging your panties down as well, and your hands brace on his shoulders as he helps you out of everything.

“There’s very little in this world I want more, darling. I love feeling how wet you get when you’re desperate for my tongue."

As you watch his fingers moving it occurs to you that he often seems intent on being the one to undress you, calloused palms running over the skin he's revealed, that's his to reveal, eyes dark and riven with need as though seeing you for the first time.

Once you’re stripped down to only your bra he pauses, hands fitting around your waist, forehead resting against your hip. Warm breath washes over your skin and although he’s so, so close to where you’re aching for his touch you find yourself pausing with him, your mind growing quiet.

It’s a different kind of quiet from the way he so deftly empties your head with his fingers or his cock, every thought supplanted by pleasure. There’s still a trembling anticipation that can't be ignored, electricity buzzing steadily through the air between you, but for a moment you both surrender to the calm, hovering in that space between heartbeats.

Your hands explore the backs of his, playing over his rings, over the leather cuff on his wrist, and when they trail over his forearms you can feel the faintest tremble in his muscles as he holds you against him. 

Your fingers find a salt and pepper curl and brush it away from his face, needing to see him, the breath nearly knocked from your lungs when his shining blue gaze finds yours. He almost looks surprised, perhaps unused to your tenderness, but after a breath the crease between his brows softens as he leans into your touch. 

It’s not long, though, before the air begins to crackle again and with his eyes still on yours he shifts, slowly dragging the tip of his nose along your cleft with a deep inhale and a sigh, and just that warmth against your sensitive flesh has you whimpering, the calm quickly ebbing away as your aching need swiftly flows back in.

Your hips flex forward to seek more and your breath catches in anticipation of his tongue, but instead he pulls away, and before you have a chance to protest he's standing again, reaching quickly to unclasp your bra, sensing a crack in his composure in the brief fumble of his fingers as they work the metal loops. 

Now standing naked in his room Klaue moves in close enough that as you breathe the peaks of your nipples brush against his still clothed chest, and when he leans in you instinctively tilt your head.

“Tell me again.” Lips ghosting across the skin beneath your ear sends fresh heat to your core.

“I need your mouth, need you to make me come on your tongue.” You pause before adding. “As many times as you want. Please.” 

“That's right, you will.” Klaue replies, his voice low and tight with need. “Now, on the bed, darling.” 

Without hesitation you quickly make your way over to sit on the bed, the scent of him swirling around you as you adjust the pillows and settle back, and when you glance back up you're greeted by the intoxicating vision of Klaue standing at the foot of the bed, fingers frozen on the bottom button of his now open shirt.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about you here in my bed.” He says with a rough sigh, fingers freeing the last button as his gaze slides up your legs and over the soft swell of your breasts.

“Can’t be more than the number of times I’ve thought about being here.” You admit in turn, a smirk beginning but quickly falling as you watch him peel off his shirt, muscles flexing beneath the ink that paints his chest and shoulders.

“I have to say, it seems I was right, Mot.”

“About what?” You frown.

“About how lovely you’d look, right there.”

Caught off guard by the sweetness in his words a reply falters on your lips, and you squeeze your thighs together as though it might help you to hide from the way he makes you feel. But of course he notices.

“Would you spread your legs for me, please?”

Biting your lip you meet his eyes and begin to slowly straighten your legs, sliding them down towards the foot of the bed before letting your knees fall open. At first it’s just enough to give him a teasing peek but the heat of his gaze has you helpless to keep yourself from him. 

Spreading your legs wider you pull your knees back and open, and when the cool air hits you exposed skin you’re immediately aware of just how wet you are, and not just your sex - you can feel the insides of your thighs have become damp with your arousal as well and judging by the look on his face he can see it.

Slowly you shift down a bit more, giving a little upward rock of your hips for his benefit as you tuck one hand up behind your head, letting the other rest across your hip, attempting to look much calmer than you feel.

Following to where you’ve made a lovely display for him on his bed he removes the last of his layers, freeing the deliciously thick curve of his cock to hang heavy and twitching between his thighs, and standing above you he tilts his head appraisingly. A flush of heat crawls through every inch of your body as he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, then slowly sits down on the edge of the bed..

Reaching out a hand he lets his fingertips alight on your knee before dragging them up over the skin of your inner thigh, his eyes staying fixed along the path they take, watching intently as your muscles flex and quiver beneath his touch.

“Not my fingers, then? You’re sure?” Klaue teases, smirking when your hips cant up against the air. With significant effort you manage to drag your thoughts away from how good it feels, how easy it would be to let him relieve the ache in your core.

“YesI’msure,” you blurt in a rush, quickly reaching down to stop his hand where it hovers inches from your sex.

“Both hands.” He says quietly, eyes flicking above your head in explanation. “And keep them there. Understood?”

“Yes. I understand, Ulysses.” You nod, the vice of your fingers slowly releasing him.

Once you’ve tucked your hands up and between the two pillows you’re resting against, he seems satisfied and moves the rest of the way onto the bed, positioning his body over yours.

He’s warm and heavy and you can feel the grin when his lips find the hollow of your throat, your hips beginning to roll slowly beneath him, acutely aware of his hard cock nudging against the inside of your thigh.

“I’ve thought about you here like this for so long.” Klaue murmurs, his tongue tasting your skin, trailing slow kisses up one side of your neck and then down the other, making his way down your chest before pausing at your breasts.

Then you think you hear something else, something quieter, whispered against your heartbeat.

“Want to keep you here.”

But you're distracted by his mouth again before you can really register the words, overwhelmed by how you’re already trembling and clenching just from the drag of his lips across your inflamed skin, and maybe you imagined it anyway. 

When his tongue flicks over your nipple none of your thoughts don’t stand a chance, a moan immediately sliding from deep in your chest. He spends just enough time on each to leave them peaked and aching, but when he starts to move further down you stop him.

“No, wait! More please, please..”

You look down at him, breathless and imploring, arching your chest up to encourage him, sighing with relief when his tongue returns to swirl over the pebbled flesh, and soon you’re moaning again as he alternates from one to the other, kissing and sucking until you’re writhing beneath the solid weight of him. 

Just when you think you can’t take any more he holds a nipple between his lips, just the very tip of his tongue flicking quickly until an ache starts to build deep in your belly, everything growing hot and tight and then suddenly your back is arching hard as you let out a broken cry, and while his tongue continues to work a hand cups your other breast, his thumb circling there in a matching rhythm as your cunt clenches around nothing. 

It doesn’t have the same peaking intensity but it still feels like you're coming, like if he keeps doing this you just might, and only when he pulls away does the desperate tension finally release from your muscles with a gasp.

“Another night I’m going to find out how many times I can make you do that.” He looks up at you, his expression more than a little smug. “But right now I think it’s time I made good on my promise, don’t you?”

You’re unable to respond with more than a nod, still panting and shuddering as he resumes his path downward. Your skin shines in the low light as his lips and tongue lave along your stomach and over your hips, and as he finally reaches the juncture of your thighs Klaue adjusts himself, setting there so that he’s lying with his erection pressed firmly into the mattress.

He pauses then, using his thumbs to gently spread you open for him, his mouth hovering just over your aching sex to let you feel his breath before you feel his touch.

“God, you are soaked for me, aren’t you?” 

Before you can form any kind of reply he presses his lips against you, kissing just above your swollen bud, teasingly close to where you need him so badly that all you can do is whine for it.

“What was that, my darling?” He prompts you, gently taunting.

“I need your mouth on my pussy, please I needohhgod-”

He cuts you off with a flick of his tongue, then another, at first grazing you gently but then unable to resist he licks a hungry stripe through your folds, and the sudden slick warmth combined with the vibration of his moan through your cunt has you greedily rolling your hips.

Watching him as his tongue continues to move between your legs you can sense the tension in his shoulders gradually softening, that tension he holds as part of his natural state, ever curled and ready to react drains away as he gives in to your honeyed musk, his arms sliding around your thighs to hold you snug against his mouth.

You want to reach down, to run your hands over his neck and shoulders and through his curls, but you resist, gripping the pillow tighter in an effort to keep them where they are, not daring to take the chance that he might stop.

But then he does pull off of you suddenly, silently looking up at you with heavy lidded eyes.

“What- what’s wrong?” You pant, confused and trying not to be concerned.  

“You’re not a dream, are you?” Klaue murmurs, resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh, plush beneath the scratch of his beard. He watches you for a long moment as though he were a parched man in the desert afraid that you were a mirage, and if he’s not careful he might lose sight of you. 

“I don’t think so?” Relief floods you and you laugh softly.

“No. You taste too good to be a dream.” 

Seeming reassured his mouth is on you again, lips soft and warm as they slowly, slowly close around your clit, and the gentle suction he adds now has your breath stuttering in your chest.

Your body begins to tremble, and seeming to anticipate it his arms tighten around your thighs just as you buck, keeping you in place as everything grows achingly bright and you arch against his mouth until you’re crying out, the pillowcase twisting in your fists as his hum of approval around your clit finally sends your orgasm surging through you hard and swift, pent up hours of thwarted desire finally finding its release.

And even when the pulsing waves begin to soften, he has no intention of stopping.

At times it feels like he’s trying to tease you apart at the seams, at others it seems to want to devour you all at once, and while Klaue has never been shy about exploring you he seems to relish taking his time tonight, soaking in your heat, teasing and licking every inch of you to find new patterns that make you sigh and roll your hips.

Your desperate pleas grow less and less articulate as his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips so that he can grind your cunt against his tongue, and as overwhelming as it is you find yourself sinking into it. Letting the only thing you need be his mouth against the soft place between your legs you eventually lose track of how much time passes, simply focusing on the susurrus of heat and pleasure that flows out from your center as the sheets below you become soaked with your release.

Eventually when you start to whine and try to pull away Klaue sees fit to give you respite, suckling instead at the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh until bruises begin to bloom there, and as his lips drag slowly across your skin you take the chance to watch him, your eyes catching the movement of his hips, his perfect ass flexing as he slowly ruts against the bed. 

He must be achingly hard now, and you find yourself breathless at the thought of the stain he’s leaving on the sheets beneath him. Fresh heat spreads through your core as you imagine how his cock is twitching and leaking for you, and it’s not long before he notices your needy movements starting to seek him out again, eliciting a whimper when he presses a soft kiss against your clit.

This time, though, he waits, letting his mouth simply rest gently against you, warm and soft and shockingly patient, until just as he senses you starting to fully relax he suddenly sucks your clit between his lips and you’re gasping at the heated pressure around your bundle of nerves, his fluttering tongue unrelenting until you’re his name is the only sound your mouth can form.

Even now, sweaty and blissfully exhausted as he chases the last twitches of pleasure from your sex, you’re surprised that you can still feel the heady swirl of need humming through your tender flesh. And yet, although you have no real desire to pull away, and even though he told you that he was going to decide when you were finished, the thought still tugs from the back of your mind that he’s given you enough.

“You don't...don’t have to keep going.” You manage to stammer between panted breaths.

Pulling his mouth off of you Klaue looks up, his beard and full lips glistening with your juices.

“If you think I wouldn't spend the entire night with my mouth against you warm, sweet cunt." He punctuates this with a firm lick that has a moan lilting in your throat. "Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to work a little harder to turn off that mind of yours."

It's tempting, god it's so tempting to let him continue. You can feel yourself growing dangerously addicted to his unabashed hunger between your legs, yet you can’t deny that there’s a growing need for something else.

Because he hasn’t even put his fingers inside of you, only his tongue occasionally dipping down to tease at your entrance, and you’re fucking aching for more, imagining the arch and flex of his back as he fucks into you instead of wasting it on the mattress.

So you tilt your hips up to give him a more open view of where you’re dripping for him, a soft whine in your throat.

“What's the matter, darling? Tell me.”

“You said- you said if I was good…”

“Yes?” His eyes are fixed on yours as he mouths at the sensitive crease where your thigh meets your hip.

“You said I could come on your cock. And I waited. Like you said.”

“Yes, you did.” He pauses, considering. “But you were a tease, too, weren’t you? Pretending you wanted your little toy.”

Shit. Of course he’d figured you out. Your mind spins quickly, trying to figure out a way to keep what you’d been hoping for from slipping away.

“But I wasn’t lying, I did think about that.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you did. But it was never going to be what you asked for, was it?”

You suck at your lower lip to keep from pouting and you have to swallow the lump forming in your throat. 

What the hell has this man done to you? You’d lost count of how many times he’d made you come already and yet you’re on the verge of tears at the thought of not getting to fuck him tonight. But you hardly get to see him, after all. It’s not fair.

“No,” you finally admit meekly. “Ohh ‘m sorry.”

You whimper when the tip of a thick finger begins circling your entrance, but as soon as you tilt your hips to try to encourage him deeper he pulls his hand back.

“No, please, I need you.”

“Would you like to be a little more specific for me?” Klaue asks, watching your face intently as his finger slowly returns, and you know he can feel the flutter of your muscles as he dips teasingly into you.

“I need you inside me.” Saying it out loud sets an invisible spark alight, pushing out thoughts of anything else as your words continue to tumble out in a rush.

“God, do you have any idea how perfect your cock is? How wet I get when I think about you stretching me open? And I think about it it every fucking day. I need you to fuck me, Ulysses, need you to fill me with your cock and your cum, please I need you so fucking bad, I need you, I-”

The last words are cut off when your voice hitches, fighting to hold back the tears that prick hot at the corners of your eyes. 

Desperate with need you’re only dimly aware that he’s moving, shifting himself to the head of the bed so that his back is against the pillows and then he’s tugging you up, causing you to let out a startled “Oh!” as your hands quickly move to catch yourself on his chest, quickly reminded of how strong he is as powerful arms lift you until you’re straddling his lap.

The thick length of him is hot and achingly hard, and he sucks a breath through his teeth when he slides through your folds, parting your cleft until the head, flushed and drooling, bumps against your swollen clit.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Klaue hums with a satisfied grin.

You’re nearly giddy with relief as you feel another upward flex of his hips, a heated slide of skin against slippery skin, and then you press your mouth against his, moaning when you taste yourself on his lips. He responds quickly, his tongue delving into your mouth, your kiss deep and full of desire as the rock of both of your hips grows more insistent.

Bracing more firmly on your knees you lift up, allowing him to slide further down until your kiss is broken by a moan when his cock catches at your entrance, your muscles already trying to clench around him.

Impatient now you reach a hand down between your legs to grip him, gasping at how hot he is beneath your fingers. He gives you a stuttered groan when you drag the mixture of his precum and your arousal along his length before shifting to line him up with your opening, and then finally you drop your hips firmly down. 

Your head tips back with a sigh as you revel in the delicious ache of his girth slowly nudging into you, his mouth immediately moving to nip at the column of your neck, whispering praises against your skin.

“Needed my cock, hmm?” Klaue's voice pitches low. “That's good. I want there to be nothing else you can think about. Don't want you satisfied unless you're full of me.” 

You feel a fresh surge of arousal at his words, your slick already dripping down his cock as you rock down harder, desperate to fit him inside of you.

“Yes, fuck, you feel so good. You're the only one who's ever made me want to beg, Ulysses.”

His eyes darken at your admission, groaning as your walls clench around him.

“I'm a lucky man, then, because you're so beautiful when you beg, klein Mot.”

Bliss continues to spool out through your body, and you’ve been so distracted by the sweet relief that you’re just realizing that he isn’t moving, that there’s a tension in his thighs and in the muscles of his jaw as he fights to keep himself still, focused only on watching you split yourself open on him. 

Keeping your pace slow you allow yourself to luxuriate in every sensation, in the ridges of his cock as he slides deeper into you, the heat of broad hands roaming over you skin, dimpling the flesh of your thighs and then sliding to grip your ass, spreading you obscenely as you work yourself further down his length.

You’ve never been able to watch him like this and you’re nearly delirious from the sight, from the way he reacts to every flutter of your pussy around him, his arms flexing as his grip on you tightens in an effort to hold himself back. As you continue to ride him your own hands can’t help sliding greedily over the firm muscles of his shoulders, over the hair that covers his chest and belly and then down to where, although he’s softening with age, you’re still you’re keenly aware of the strength that resides beneath your fingers. 

But as good as this feels there’s a frustration building, because although it’s gotten easier to take him he’s still so much, and you’re struggling to take him as deep as you want. 

And judging by the look in his eyes, he can sense it.

“More,” you plead, the movement of your hips growing more insistent.

“What's the matter?” He asks with a wolfish glint of gold. “You said you needed my cock, darling. So take it.” 

His bitten words are harsh, lightning crackling behind his teeth.

A surge of adrenaline courses through your veins as your hands slide around to grip the back of his neck in search of more purchase, fingernails digging crescents into his skin as you rock down harder. You can feel a low growl that you slowly realize is coming from your own chest as you desperately work to take all of him, and determined now you don't stop until your hips are snug against his, every inch of you finally stretched and spread open on his cock.

Breathing through the ache of it you take a moment to savour the prize of him fully buried in you, moaning when you give a firm roll of your hips and feel the slick friction of coarse hair at the base of him pressing and dragging against your folds, your eyes slipping closed with a blissful smile.

“Look at you.” Klaue rumbles, his fingers reaching to brush sweat-damp strands of hair away from your face. “That's my good girl.”

Tugged back by his words your eyes flutter open again as you rise up and slowly drop back down, your breathing mirroring one another as you find a rhythm. When you begin to add a rolling motion in time with each downward plunge you’re gratified when his mouth drops open, head tilting back to knock against the headboard with a groaned curse, though he still watches you through dark lashes, taking in the pleased curve of your lips and the bounce of your tits as your movements start to grow rougher.

Because you’re not sure if it's the angle from being on top and him sitting up like this but every slide of his cock into is you drawing an intoxicating flush of pleasure, tension swiftly coiling deep in your belly and licking a path up your spine as your breath comes in shorter and shorter gasps, and already being so overstimulated you’re unprepared for how quickly you can feel your climax approaching.

“Fuck, that’s it.” His voice is rough with hard fought restraint. “Use my cock like the needy little thing you are.”

Sweat beads on your skin, threads of pleasure stringing tight as the first inevitable surge begins to build, but then your thighs flex and your back arches and with the change in angle and the way your muscles are starting to tighten around him he’s suddenly slipping from where he’d been perfectly rooted deep inside you and you can feel the heated pleasure pulling away. 

You were so close that you can’t get out anything more than a mixture of frustrated pleas, but then his voice cuts through the haze, dark and driving straight to your core.

“No.” Klaue growls. “Stay down.”

Gripping your hips tight he finally takes control, a hoarse cry ripped from your throat as he roughly forces his cock back into your clenching cunt, and startled by the sound that escapes you bite your lip hard, trying to hold it back.

“None of that,” he grits. “You're going to let me hear you, yeah? Because those lovely noises you make, they’re mine. The way my name sounds when you come, that's for me.”

Both of his arms encircle your waist and then you’re surrounded by him, by his grip, his voice, his musk, all of it demanding your pleasure, and your mouth drops open as you succumb to his command with a ragged moan.

Your thighs are burning now as you ride him, but with the edges of your climax gathering again you wouldn’t stop even if you could, and this time when your muscles tense and you buck suddenly against his grip he’s ready, powerful arms holding you in place.

You cling to his shoulders, desperate to hold on to something as you feel yourself tipping, the nearly unbearable friction against your clit drawing everything to a bright point, a silvery haze creeping in at the edges of your vision as you hover over the line between blissful agony and release.

“Going to come so hard for me, aren’t you?” His rasping words are more a plea than a question, rough from the rhythm of your hips as you grind helplessly against him. “So fucking beautiful.”

Finally you gasp a lungful of air as though hitting a shock of cold water and then the breath is forced from your lungs by a sob, tears you hadn't realized were pooling in your eyes spilling over as your orgasm crashes through you, his name falling in a tattered cry from your lips.

Your inhibitions are completely lost as you fuck yourself on his cock, chasing wave after wave of pleasure that rolls through your body and you can feel the rush of your release slicking the skin between you as you fall utterly apart, the heat of it only just starting to ebb when his gruff words bring you back to him, cutting through the din of ecstasy.

“Fuck, Mot don't stop. Need to come in your pussy, I'm-” Klaue stammers, his voice cracking with need.

“Ohh please,” you can only moan through hitched sobs.

Not able to thrust into you the way he normally wants he instead grips you tight, bracing his heels against the mattress and rutting his hips up as best he can while roughly grinding you down, his eyes squeezing shut as he focuses on keeping himself buried as deep inside of you as he can.

“Look at me,” you plead, your voice thick with tears and want.

Klaue’s eyes snap to yours, bright with the flame of a sapphire sacrament  and after a few more broken thrusts he jerks beneath you, the muscles of his thighs flexing against the insides of yours, his bruising grip holding you down until relief floods his features and you feel the first hard throb of his cock, your name a honeyed plea on his lips as he comes deep inside you.

The tension in your body has finally begun to soften and as you regain some control you force yourself to hold as still as you can, wanting to feel everything, to feel every pulse as he spills himself inside you, soaking in the delicious sound of every grunted sigh as the thick warmth of his cum fills you.

He continues to twitch and throb inside you as you both catch your breath, large hands beginning to soothe over your back and sides and then back down to your hips, a satisfied hum rolling through his chest as his touch follows the lazy cant of your hips.

Sweat damp skin slides against skin and your moan matches his when he grips your ass and rocks you slowly up and then back down on his still stiff length, and though he hisses at the overstimulation he does it again, and then again, until wet sounds are filling the room as you writhe languidly against each other, the sticky slick of both of your leaking out from where you’re deliciously swollen and sore.

“God, the only thing better than the sweet taste of you, darling, is how pretty your pussy sounds when you’re full of my cum.”

“Jesus, Ulysses.” Your reply is half moan, half delirious laughter. “You’re going to kill me, I swear.” 

He sucks a breath at the flex of your muscles around him when you laugh, though he still looks rather pleased with himself. 

“Just returning the favour,” Klaue teases, though there's a sweet edge to his smug grin. 

Giving him a watery smile you tuck your head down to rest your damp cheek against the slope of his shoulder, and when you start to work your hands between his back and the pillow he adjusts so that you can slide them around his broad waist.

Gradually you both grow still, the only movement for several moments is the rise and fall of your chests as you quietly rest against one another, the claw on the cord around his neck pressing into you to leave a mirrored indentation in your skin.

Slowly you nuzzle your cheek along the scruff of his beard, seeking every bit of contact he'll give you, relaxing further when the weight of his arms settles around your waist, and as you sit wrapped in each other you allow for the thought that maybe he's just as reluctant as you to untwine just yet. 

And that maybe you did hear him say it earlier.

“Want to keep you here.”

Still, you don't want to overthink what he meant, so for now you let yourself simply enjoy this, here, tracing the salt of inked skin along his neck with your lips, though perhaps still hoping that, for tonight at least, he’ll want to keep you a little longer. 

When you do eventually separate you're both still content not to get up right away, bodies relaxed and half pressed against one another, a hand splayed across a waist, hip and thigh meeting.

You're not sure when he does get up but as you drift in and out of sleep you hear Klaue in the shower, although you have no interest in moving yourself, not caring about the mess between your thighs enough to do anything about it just yet. You might even admit that you're rather enjoying it.

Eventually he returns to where you lie in a half-twilight, your eyes blinking open when the mattress dips beneath his weight.

“You don't have to leave, darling, but I do need to go,” he says. “I won't be able to come back tonight, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you'd like.”

Pushing yourself up you begin to protest but his mouth quickly finds yours, silencing you with a swipe of his tongue. The kiss is firm and slow, a hand moving to cup your jaw, working with his lips to guide you back down to the pillow.

“It's really no problem to go back,” you start when he releases you, “I can-”

He kisses you again deeper this time, a little more demanding, coaxing your mouth open as his tongue slides against yours until you’re wondering what your reason was for arguing at all, and when he releases you this time you can only look up at him with a glassy-eyed smile.

“Rest.” He murmurs, a thumb drifting across your cheek as you nod.

Before he stands to go, though, he draws your attention to something in his hand that glints in the low light.

“I'll be keeping this here, by the way.”

Your mouth forms a silent “o” as you watch him tuck your vibrator into the drawer of his night table and slide it shut. 

“I forgot about that.” You whisper with a bashful smile.

“So did I,” he admits, his fingers tugging down the sheet that's covering you to reveal your naked form. “And when I did remember, I wasn't really in the mood to share.”

His hand coaxes a knee open, his jaw clenching when he catches the mess still shining between your legs.

“But you might not be so lucky in the future.” 

There's a glint of a warning when his eyes return to yours, but before you can say anything you’re gasping when he suddenly slides two fingers into you, thrusting deep before pulling back out and you moan when, instead of offering them to you, he takes them into his own mouth, a satisfied hum rumbling through his chest at the taste of you mixed with him.

You’re still staring at him half stunned when he stands back up, licking his lips as his eyes sweep appraisingly over your body, as though he's trying to commit the image of you like this to memory.

“And you say I'm a tease. Do you have to go??” You try not to sound too needy, though you're pretty sure the way your hips are shifting again gives you away.

“I'm afraid I do, darling. Believe me, if I didn't...” He gives a rough sigh, frustration plain on his face. “But I'm here for two more days, and I will be taking advantage of them.”

“I certainly hope so,” you reply, a lazy smile curving your lips.

He gives you one last look as he closes behind him, and almost immediately you can feel sleep starting to steal over you again. You don't plan on staying very long, though, and as you turn over and tug the sheet back up you tell yourself you’re just going to close your eyes for a few more minutes, however it's several hours later when you open them again and realize that it’s now late (or early, rather). 

Once you manage to orient yourself in the unfamiliar space you have to laugh, entirely unsurprised at this point that you’d passed out almost immediately.

After showering you actually don't rush to leave, but strange as it is to be here without him you find yourself unable to resist the chance to observe his room a little more closely.

While this obviously isn't a permanent space it still has details of him scattered around; you'd noted a razor and shaving bar next to the sink, one of his khaki shirts hanging on a hook in the bathroom.

You take a peek at a shelf by the door, full of books that for the most part you don't recognize or aren't in English, but you do spot Mary Shelley's “Frankenstein”, a small wood carved stingray next to it. 

Hanging on the wall beside the shelf there's a framed photo of the ocean that looks like it was taken by a 35mm camera. Is it from somewhere he's been? Did he take it himself?

Sitting back down on the bed you intend to check your messages but your mind still wanders. You wonder if he does have somewhere that’s…maybe not home, but a place where pieces of him might be a little more embedded, that looks and smells familiar when he returns from time away. Somewhere that he rests.

You know it's time to head back to your room so you can get ready for the morning shift but you’re hesitant to get up just yet. Glancing at the bed and the mussed sheets, your hand slides over the pillow he'd been leaning against, acutely aware of the scent of him surrounding you, and without really thinking you lean down and press your nose into the creased fabric.

Immediately you're overwhelmed by the heady scent of him that infiltrates your senses: His musk beneath the soap, sweat and a faint trace of oil, all tied up with the still present scent of your mixed arousal, and it's only when you take a shuddering breath that you realize you’d been holding back a sob.

Sitting back up your hand quickly flies to your mouth, breath caught in your chest as you blink away the tears.

Shit.

The intensity of it honestly doesn't surprise you anymore, Klaue makes you feel - seems to revel in making you feel - more than you ever thought you could, teasing away the layers, revealing pieces of you that you didn’t even realize had been hidden. 

“I don’t know what this is.”

“And I don’t know if I can tell you.”

None of this feels any clearer now yet there's a certainty settling in your chest, and it feels like that part of you that's been unsteady since you’d met Klaue in Utrecht is finally starting to right itself. And at the same time, maybe for the first time, you feel something unlocking in you, opening to the possibility of perhaps letting someone else help you find your balance.

So although you have no idea where this path leads, you're starting to accept that you aren't going to be able to stop until you find out.

AN: Once again, thank you so much for reading! 🥰 As I said this next chapter is going to be a beast (already trying to talk myself out of splitting it up again if it comes to that, lol), but I'm looking forward to continuing to exploring things between these two idiots, and I hope you'll come along for the ride!

[stargirlfics]

klaue puts you on all fours and eats your pussy from behind

have a nice day 💘

Thank you for dropping this yummy image in my inbox, I will in fact be having a nice day thinking about this! 🥵

Just gonna think about Klaue helping you get into position, tapping your knees and elbows to prompt you to move. Think about him guiding you to where he wants, basically letting you present yourself to him on a silver platter, humming in approval when you arch your back and stick your ass up high for him to really see

He would be so feral and filthy about eating you out like that! As much as he loves laying you down on your back so he can look up at you and admire while he devours you, something about having you spread out for him like this on your hands and knees makes him hungrier for it than ever

The way his hands grab your ass, opening you up, the slick sounds your pussy is already making oh my god I can see Klaue loving that. So pretty he’d want to take a picture just to keepsake the memory forever

He’s definitely not shy when he eats it either, holding back is nowhere in that man’s set of strengths and you’re just fine with that because when he buries his tongue against and eventually inside your folds, it’s the only thing you can feel and want to feel and he does it so damn well

Klaue is a pussy eating champ and I fully stand by this statement!

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Think I Need a Devil to Help Me Get Things Right

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F Reader/Flight attendant Chapters: 1 of 1 Word count: 4.7K Rating: Explicit

Summary: After a particularly rough flight you're suddenly having anxiety for the first time in all of your years in the air, buyou end up finding help in an unexpected place when an enigmatic passenger offers you a distraction.

Warnings: Explicit Rating, Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, But no specific identifiers, Description of Anxiety, Panic Attack, Mild PTSD, Fear of Flying, Pet Names, PWP, One-Shot, Semi-public Sex, You Have to Be Quiet, Bathroom Sex, Mile High Club, Dirty Talk, Light Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Mirror Sex, Unprotected PIV, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms

A/N: Well, this was supposed to be a quick little smutty thing that ended up getting away from me! But it was fun, and a nice exercise to work on outside of my series. And even with not being able to write at all for a good few days of it, two and half weeks for over 4.5k+ words (from scratch!) is definitely a record for me!

I have to give a shout-out to the many thots that come from the Andy Discord, and @tarrenterror for this one specifically. 😉 I hope you enjoy this little drabble that ended up turning into way more than that! 💕

Title is from "Learn To Fly" by the Foo Fighters

AO3 Link

Run and tell all of the angels This could take all night Think I need a devil to help me get things right

Yesterday’s flight from Lisbon to Johannesburg had been a long and turbulent one with a very rough landing, much rougher than you’re used to even after three years as a flight attendant. 

The storms had kept you circling in the sky waiting for a break that refused to come, and after a long-haul flight the fuel was getting low so the pilot didn’t have a choice but to land. The plane hadn’t ended up going off of the rain-slicked runway but it was damned close, and you've been on edge ever since.

Even the tedious interview with the SACA Authority wasn't annoying enough to distract you for long, and neither last night’s patchy sleep, nor the mini-bar Red Bull are helping the persistent shake in your hands, but you have a fifteen hour flight to Corfu leaving today so you get yourself moving, hoping that a shower and some food will clear your head.

It doesn’t.

You’re not able to eat very much either, but mercifully last night’s storms have cleared and takeoff into a cloudless blue sky is smooth and uneventful, although your stomach is still acting like the toast you had managed to eat was an affront to your body.

You've never been airsick and you'd really prefer not to break your streak, not least because of the razzing you’ll get if you do, so you’re grateful when the plane finally levels off so that you can find your equilibrium again, and once the “Seatbelt” sign goes dark you're grateful for the distraction as you start rolling the beverage cart down the aisle.

Working on autopilot you don’t realize how completely you’ve zoned out until fingers are closing over yours as you hand a passenger his drink, barely catching his question.

“Are you alright, love?” 

Nudged out of your daze you finally look down at the man you’re serving.

He’s wearing dark jeans with heavy boots and a black button-up, the collar open to expose black ink across his chest and collarbones, sleeves rolled up to expose more tattoos on his forearms - or forearm, rather. Your brain tries to parse why his one arm looks not-quite-right until you realize it’s a prosthesis, although it's far more realistic than any you've ever seen apart from the distinct seams running through it. 

When you finally meet his you're quickly drawn in by bright blue eyes contrasted with tanned skin and dark salt and pepper curls, and while his hair is a bit shaggy you can faintly see another tattoo arcing beneath it.

It feels like your brain is on a delay, caught off guard by a combination of the inquiry and his striking features, and after several moments of your confused stare his eyes flick to where your hands are still connected. Suddenly you’re aware that inside the calm pressure of his fingers, yours are trembling, and it clicks that he must have seen the liquid shaking in the glass when you handed it to him.

"Oh. I'm ok,” You finally respond, giving your head a quick shake. “There was just a lot of turbulence on my flight coming in yesterday, and then we almost went off the runway, so..I guess I’m still a bit shaky, that's all.” 

You’re surprised that you answer him honestly but something about the way that he focuses on you, his eyes sharply observant, has you dropping the professional guard that you normally keep airtight with passengers. 

“Ah, that was you,” he says, finally releasing your hand and taking the proffered glass. “I heard about that. And you’re still back on a plane, today? That’s impressive.” 

His words are earnest as he tips his drink at you, and you find yourself fighting the flush that warms your skin at his praise.

“Well, it is my job," you reply, trying to keep your shrug nonchalant. "But thank you for your concern, sir.” Trying to brush off the brief flash in his eyes you work to settle your polite customer service mask back into place.

“Well, it sounds like you can handle it. But if you need a distraction,” the man takes a sip of his drink, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial timbre, “I might be able to help with that.” 

Meeting his eyes with a start you definitely see a dark glint in them now, the casual certainty in his tone that making it difficult to mistake his meaning.

It’s not the first time you’ve been propositioned - in fact it’s pretty par for the course in this world - and normally your reply would be quick and trite, saccharin words shutting down the standard attempts at flirting with a captive audience that you’re used to dealing with. But the teasing lilt of his words and the way the colour of his eyes deepens as they flick over your body sends an unexpected thrum of heat between your legs.

You're still trying to work out a reply when an annoyed voice cuts through the tension.

“Uh, miss? Maybe someone else could get a drink over here, today?"

“Of course. I’ll be right there,” you reply quickly, plastering an apologetic smile on your face, unsure whether you feel relieved or frustrated by the interruption. 

Relieved, you tell yourself. You're relieved. 

You manage not to look at the man again while you finish serving the rest of the food and drinks, but on your way back up the aisle when you finally allow yourself a glance as you pass his seat he calmly meets your eyes, making no attempt to hide that he was watching you.

You thought that you were going to make it the rest of the flight without incident, but in the early morning dark just a few hours before landing the plane hit a patch of turbulence, and even though it was barely a shake you had jolted awake instantly.

Now, while the rest of the plane slumbers on you’re tucked in the alcove back by the washrooms with your eyes squeezed shut, jacket and scarf discarded at your feet as your heart does its best to escape through your chest wall. Even though the plane is perfectly smooth now your nerves have returned in full force, fingers tingling as you try to will the cold, hollow feeling in your gut away from spreading into your limbs.

You feel a presence enter your personal space at the same time that you see the shadow fall over you through closed eyelids, and the voice you hear is low and calm, sliding its way into your consciousness between panicked breaths.

“Take a deep breath, love.”

Forcing your eyes open, you see the tattooed passenger from earlier standing in front of you.

“I don’t know what’s- I’ve never been like this before on a flight,” you feel compelled to explain as tears of frustration prick at your eyes. “I just can’t catch my-” you gasp, trying to keep your voice down so you don't disturb the sleeping passengers.

He glances over his shoulder briefly and then back at you, pausing for a moment as he seems to consider something, and then his arm is around your waist and he’s quickly guiding you into an unoccupied washroom, following closely and locking the door behind you.

Taking your hands in his, he moves them so that your palms are pressed flat against his chest, and when he speaks his words are steady but firm.

“Now, take a deep breath for me."

As he draws a slow, deep breath himself it dawns on you that he wants you to mimic him, so on his next inhale you match it by taking a shaky gulp of air into your lungs, and when he holds his breath at the top of it for a few seconds you do the same. Letting your eyelids slip closed you find that you’re able to focus on the rhythm of your breathing, on the feeling of warm fabric over firm muscle, on the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this but steadily your nerves begin to settle, every breath calmer than the last. 

As your senses start to slide back into place you become aware of calloused palms covering yours, of your breath mixing in the shared space between you, and when you open your eyes again you’re greeted by the sight of both of your hands framing his chest beneath the open collar of his shirt.

“How are you feeling now?” The soft gravel of his voice draws your attention upward, appraising eyes meeting yours.

“Better. I…thank you. Really.” You reply truthfully, feeling better than you have in the past forty-eight hours.

Logically you know that you should end this now, that you need to pull away and return to the rest of the plane to prepare for the approaching dawn, but instead you feel frozen in place beneath his gaze.

“Good,” he says, making no a move to pull away, either.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline still working its way out of your system, or the way that his hands sliding up your forearms makes you shiver, or the heady musk of sweat and cologne mixing with the warmth of your bodies in the close space, but when you do move it’s not to pull away.  Instead you tighten your fists in the fabric of his shirt and when you tug he immediately responds, crowding closer until your back is flush against the wall behind you.

Keeping his eyes on yours his hands drop to your waist before sliding slowly around the curve of your hips, and when he tugs you against him you gasp when you feel the stiffening curve of his erection pressing into your abdomen.

He leans in close enough that his lips brush the crest of your ear, and though his breath is hot on your skin his words raise goosebumps along your neck.

“Would you like your distraction now?”

You can hear the smile curling around the sweet tease of his words, and you hum an affirmation, unable to help the roll your hips against his arousal.

“What was that?” 

There’s a sharper edge to his voice when he prompts you again.

“Yes,” you say more firmly, startled by how he’s managed to drop your guard and stoke your need so quickly, the warm ache between your thighs swelling from his proximity and a few simple words.

Pulling back, a hand moves to cup your cheek as you look at him through hooded eyes, a thumb sliding under your chin to tilt your face up and then his mouth is closing over yours, full lips surprisingly soft as they drag across yours in a teasing slide, and just when you feel the faint flick of his tongue and you part your lips to deepen the kiss, he pulls away. 

For a long moment time seems to hang suspended in the sharp blue of his eyes, and then as if drawn by a magnet it’s you that’s moving and your mouth is on his again, your own tongue flicking against the seam of his lips and you sigh when he parts them. 

The kiss quickly deepens as you run your hands over the broad muscle of his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck as his tongue swirls against yours, licking deeper and growling into your mouth when your hips start to roll against him more urgently. It’s not long before your touch grows frantic, both of you seeking more, fingers blindly grasping at fabric and tugging at buttons until his shirt hangs open, forgoing yours entirely as he tugs it up over your head before pulling you back against him, a hand sliding beneath your bra to cup your breast as he kisses you breathless in a growing fervor of tongues and teeth, 

When you try to lift your leg but your skirt stops you he tugs at the hem, pulling it up until it’s bunched around your middle and when you hitch your leg around his waist he grabs your hips in his hands, your cunt throbbing as he grinds you against the rough denim covering the now very prominent ridge of his cock.

Then suddenly his tattooed hand is finding its way between your bodies and sliding down to find the juncture of your legs, your mouth dropping open with a helpless moan when his fingers press the damp fabric against your sex.

“How are you feeling now, love?” He pants against your lips, his teasing words now rough with lust “Dis-distracted.” You huff a breathless laugh.

"That’s good,” he hums. “But you’re going to have to be quieter than that. You wouldn’t want to wake the other passengers, now, would you?”

His fingers press more firmly now, the friction of the slick fabric against your clit has you biting back a moan as you buck into his touch.

Taking a steadying breath you glance at the door before flicking your eyes back to his and shaking your head, No. 

With a pleased look his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, keeping his eyes fixed on yours as his fingers part you, sliding through your already damp folds and down to your entrance and you bite your lip as just the tip of his finger presses into you, gathering your arousal before sliding back up to nudge against your clit.

Then he does it again, fingers only swirling against the sensitive bud for a few seconds before dipping back down to find more of your slick, tracing and re-tracing the path along your sex until you’re trembling, and maybe it’s the altitude but you’re startled by how quickly you feel your orgasm building just from his teasing touch.

“Oh my god, I-” You whimper.

“What, love?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his words, but he must take pity on your desperation because his focus is only on your clit now, pressing firmly and quickly picking up on your needy rhythm as you rock against his hand, a shaky whisper squeaking from your throat.

“So close, oh my god oh-”

One of your hands flies up to your mouth to stifle the moans you can no longer hold back, faintly aware of rough words whispered into the space where you hover between anticipation and ecstasy, Let go, just like that. And then all of your thoughts are wiped away, eyes squeezing shut as your body tenses in bliss and you come hard, swells of pleasure surging out from the point where his fingers firmly coax your writhing hips to take what you need. 

His hand stays pressed against you even as the waves start to soften, feeling the aftershocks that continue to ripple through your cunt as your body relaxes and you drift back to awareness, and only when you go limp, your hand dropping from your mouth with a sigh does he release your thigh and remove his hand from between your legs. 

Though you’re still unfocused and trying to catch your breath, when his hands move to his belt your eyes follow, watching as he unbuckles it and then lowers the zipper, pushing his underwear and jeans down together until his cock bobs free, thick and glossy with precum at the tip. You lick your lips at the sight and he smirks at your greedy stare, stroking himself lazily a few times, smearing you along his length with the hand that was just between your legs.

Then without warning he grabs your waist, turning and pushing you forward and you have to quickly brace yourself against the wall as rough hands push your panties down around your thighs, and you hear a hitch in his breathing behind you as he grips your ass, slowly massaging and spreading you open.

“I’m going to fuck you now, alright love?” 

It’s a question that’s not really a question at all, but his rumbled words have you instinctively arching yourself into his hands and when you look back over your shoulder you go breathless, the blue of his eyes ocean deep and rough at the edges as he takes in the sight of your exposed sex. 

“Can see how wet you are,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself as he finds your soaked entrance again, and you barely manage to hold back a moan when he slowly slides a thick finger into your tight heat.

“Yes, you certainly seemed to like that, didn’t you?” 

His words are maddening but you’re unable to help the shuddering gasp when he adds a second finger, continuing to pump deep into you until his hand is shining with you.

“Shhh, listen," he hushes, and you bite your lip as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, the soft wet sounds of the slide and suck of them every time they sink into you obscene in the small space. “Already so messy, but I want to know how much more of a mess you’ll make when I’m fucking you on my cock.” 

You whine at the loss as he withdraws his fingers from you, using them again to slick himself with your arousal before pressing forward, and you tremble with anticipation when you feel the thick head slide through your folds to line up with your entrance.

The grip of his prosthetic hand on your hip is strong as he holds you in place, the thought fighting it’s way through the lust that it’s more than just what it seems - and that you should probably be concerned by that - but you can’t seem to find the will to care when his cock starts slowly sinking into you. 

Your eyelids flutter and you have no control over the gritted moan that escapes from your throat as he stretches you open, and he quickly moves his other hand to cover your mouth.

“I’d love nothing more than to make you cry out til you’re hoarse,” he growls between clenched teeth. “To find out what pretty sounds you make when you’re desperate. But right now I need you to be good for me and stay quiet. Can you do that, love?”

You’re not actually sure if you can, but the only clear thought in your mind is that you need him to keep going, so you nod against the resistance of his hand. 

Feeling your agreement he releases your mouth and moves both hands back to your hips, continuing the slow slide of his cock into you. Just barely managing to tamp down the sounds he’s drawing from your throat you once again focus on taking deep, shaky breaths as your fingers grasp at nothing on the wall, and even though the aching stretch of him is almost too much all you can think is that you want more.

Laying your palms flat you brace yourself against the wall and push back, rocking your hips to encourage him deeper, but he’s thick and even with your effort there's not enough leverage in this position to take him as deep as you want to.

However that doesn’t seem to stop him from letting you try.

"You can do better than that, can't you?” His words are an infuriating tease. “Don't you want to take all of it?"

You know he can sense how frustrated you’re getting as you continue to move, but he's still keeping himself just far enough back that you struggle to take him deeper. 

“Don’t you want to make me?” You grit back, startled by the low heat of your words.

“Careful, love. I’m not sure that you want me to ‘make you’.” 

His words are black as pitch as fingers dig roughly into the flesh of your hips, your cunt fluttering around his cock at the warning in his voice.

“Ohhh, but look at that.” he sighs, suddenly. ”Aren’t you a sight.”

Your movements falter, confusion interrupting your frustration until a hand grips your chin and turns your head toward the far wall so that your eyes fall on your disheveled reflections in the small mirror there, gasping as you take in the image of yourself, glassy-eyed and panting and still desperately trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock.

When you meet his eyes through the mirror a slow grin spreads across his lips, and then his hand moves to cover your mouth again.

Your brows knit in confusion since you thought that you had managed to keep mostly quiet, but you only have a second to wonder what he's doing when without warning he thrusts hard, pulling you roughly back onto his cock at the same time and stifling your cry of surprise behind his hand as he finally buries himself all the way to the hilt.

"I know, shhh, it's alright, love,” he pants against your cheek. “Wanted me to make you, yeah?”

A muffled moan is your only response as he uses the hand that’s over your mouth to keep your head pressed back against his shoulder, then just barely pulling out of you he grips your hip tight with his prosthetic hand and thrusts back into you.

“Christ you feel so fucking good.” he grits out, rutting into you harder, and the fact that you can tell he's fighting to keep his own groans under control makes the bloom of pleasure in your cunt deepen as he fills you again and again, unable to hold back the whining pant in your throat at every jolt of his hips against your ass.

You try to brace your hands more firmly against the wall but your elbows buckle as he leans into you, thrusting hard, and you hold yourself on your forearms instead, hearing a delicious grunt in your ear every time he bottoms out. The muscles of your cunt begin to tighten, the angle and the deep friction of his cock grinding against the sensitive spot behind your clit sending white hot sparks beneath your eyelids, and you feel like if you could just get your fingers on your clit you’d be there.

You manage to steady yourself on one arm as the other hand reaches desperately down between your legs, the brush of your fingers over your clit rough and unsteady as he continues to fuck you but it doesn’t matter, it only takes a few circling swipes and every sense is tightening its focus on his cock and your fingers.

“Are you going to come for me again?” His growled whisper stutters with the rhythm of his thrusts.

But even if his hand wasn’t over your mouth  you couldn’t have responded, your only thought the breathless pressure of your climax rising higher and higher, blinding you to anything else as your vision goes grey at the edges and your body spasms around and against him, a desperate moan shuddering through your chest as your orgasm finally overtakes you. 

Not letting up he continues to fuck you through it, every stroke of his cock achingly deep, but it’s not long before you feel his rhythm start to falter and with a final few thrusts he stills, the tight grip of his fingers digging into your jaw until you feel the throb of his cock as he comes, shaking against you and biting back a guttural sound as he spends himself deep in your cunt. The last waves of your climax have you still clenching around him, and while the movement of his hips slows he keeps himself buried in you as deep as possible so that you can do nothing but take every last drop.

You gasp to catch your breath when he releases your mouth and finally collapses against you. Pressing you into the wall he pants into your hair, the weight of him almost helping to keep you upright while your body is still shaky and unsteady.

After a few long moments like this you eventually feel him shift and pull back, both of you biting back one last moan as he slowly slides out of you, finding yourself aching at the loss.

“You go out first,” you say, still slightly breathless. “I'm..I need a second to clean up.”

“No, you don’t.” 

His tone is casual, and you don't really understand. 

“Um, after that? Yeah, I do.” You laugh a little, assuming that he’s joking.

“No. You don't.” He repeats firmly and turns to face you, a glint of gold flashing through his grin as he finishes buttoning his shirt. “Because that wasn’t your distraction.”

“It’s...what?” You stammer, still trying to figure out what he’s getting at.

“Your distraction,” he continues, stepping back into your space “will be feeling my cum leaking out of you for the rest of the flight.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open in shock.

“Maybe it’ll soak through your panties. Start dripping down your legs as you walk around serving coffee, and you’ll have to act like I didn’t fill your needy little cunt.”

“Jesus Christ,” you pant. “What...who the hell are you?” It’s all you manage to get out as your mind swirls at his words.

He doesn’t answer your question, but when his expression darkens you can almost hear the words he doesn’t say: Maybe it’s best you don’t know, love.

“You should get dressed.” His eyes flick pointedly to where your panties are still down around your thighs, your skin flushing with embarrassed heat as he patiently watches you finally absorb his meaning, but something in his smirk has a swell of defiance surging through you, and perhaps there’s another kind of heat there as well.

Doing your best to fix a neutral expression on your face you keep your eyes on his as you slowly pull the garment back up before tugging your skirt down from where it’s bunched around your waist. Finally you pull your shirt back on, straightening and smoothing everything back into place as best you can before quickly fixing your hair.

Once you’ve tucked your flyaways behind your ears you meet his eyes again with an expectant arch of your brow.

“Ladies first,” he says with a sly grin and gestures towards the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

He was right, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. 

There was more turbulence just before landing prep but you don’t feel the spike of adrenaline that you had before, as if the circuit of anxiety had been interrupted. Instead all you can think about is the slick warmth growing between your thighs with every step you take, and every time you glance at him he’s watching you, a persistent thrum of heat low in your belly at the knowing smile that curls the corner of his lips

About two months later, on the same long-haul flight from Johannesburg to Corfu, you’ve started walking the drink cart down the aisle when you catch a glimpse of a tattooed arm leaning on the armrest. 

It could be anyone, you reason. Lots of people have tattoos.

You pretend that you’re not eager to reach the seat, but as you approach your breath quickens when the distinct arc of ink running up his neck and beneath a fresh undercut comes into view.

“Hello, love,” he greets you with a familiar grin. 

Heat slides through your core when you hear the voice that’s haunted your dreams for weeks, and you try to keep your words steady as you repeat the practiced refrain.

“What can I get for you today, sir?” 

“I have something for you, actually,” he replies, reaching a hand into his pocket and withdrawing a folded slip of paper, holding it up for you to take. 

After a beat you pluck it from between his fingers, opening it to see an address that you recognize as a hotel not far from the airport. And a name.

Ulysses Klaue.

Somehow unsurprised that he would have a name like that, you meet his eyes as you tuck the paper into the pocket of your jacket.

“Your drink order, then..Mr. Klaue?”

“Whiskey, please. And call me Ulysses, love.”

You bite back a smile as you move to serve the next passenger, wondering if you’ll have to wait the full fifteen hour flight to feel his hand between your legs again.

But judging by the glint in his eyes when you look back at him, you having a feeling that you won’t.

A/N: As always, thank you so very much for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed reader's smutty little adventure in the sky. 😉

[tarrenterror25]

Title: Please hold... Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Klaue is not opposed to mixing business with pleasure.

Tags: oral (f!receiving), fingering, exhibitionism/semi-public(?), slight overstimulation

Notes: Self indulgent piece! Just something smutty and fun that's been on the brain. Wrote this really quick.

Read on AO3

In the sweltering hull of the Churchill, Klaue's got you on his desk in the small room he treats as a sort of office. The bits and baubles of his trades, the keyboard, the computer monitor have been pushed aside to make room for your ass. Rough hands caress you while your moans distract him from the incessant ringing of the phone next to you.

Klaue has your bare legs thrown over his shoulders while he sits in his chair, his face buried between your thighs as his strong calloused hands cup your ass to press your cunt closer to his face. His tongue laps at your folds and deliciously flicks your clit, and he growls when he feels your juices hit his tongue.

"Fuck, baby....taste so good," he groans before diving back for more.

Thank goodness no one can really see into the office from the glass panes that make up the other half of the wall. Or...at least you hope. You're certain that, despite the bulkhead door being closed, you're certain that someone could hear you down the hall, but it's the last thing on your mind.

You've lost track of how many times he's made you come. Each orgasm coming quicker than the last with how sensitive your cunt is. Your hands grip his hair and you throw your head back with a loud whine as your hips thrust voraciously into his face. "Just like that! R-Right there!" you beg.

Your eyelids flutter and your jaw falls slack as your legs contract around his shoulders and back to hold him to you. Your hands slip way from his hair and fall back behind you to brace yourself on the desk.

One of your hands accidentally knocks the the phone receiver out of the cradle and over the speaker of the phone you hear a man shouting at Klaue, angry for making him wait.

You gasp and a hand flies to cover your mouth and your other hand grabs Klaue by his dark curls. You try to pull his face away from you, but he's still going, his mouth sucking vigorously on your clit.

God.

He's insatiable and you love it.

But at the moment you aren't sure you want some foreign diplomat to hear you orgasm.

"K-Klaue!" you loudly whisper, giving his curls another frantic tug.

He just grunts in response. Then his blue eyes look up to make contact with your eyes and he trails his tongue from the bottom of your cunt to the top, never looking away.

Oh, fuck.

His gaze is still so dark and hungry as he looks at you.

Then his eyes slowly close as he lets out an appreciative moan. His grip on you tightens and he slowly peppers kiss to the inside of your thigh, his beard tickling you and making you squirm.

He looks back up at you with a stern expression and maneuvers your legs off his shoulders.

"Don't move," he commands.

He turns his attention to the phone and takes a breath to compose himself. Klaue leans in towards the phone and speaks to the caller.

You're not really focused on what he's saying, but how he's saying it. He's got that authoritative tone he takes on when he does business.

Klaue is a disheveled rugged mess right now; his chest is still heaving with each of his shallow breaths. He runs a tattooed hand through his hair and every so often his eyes dart towards you. He makes eye contact with you then his gaze flicks down to your still exposed pussy like he's making sure it doesn't go anywhere.

He's going over some numbers with the caller and sounds like he's trying to hurry the conversation.

You bite your lip and let your hand playfully creep towards your center.

His brow quirks up.

Your hand moves closer and closer to where you ache for him.

A little more frantically his gaze flits between your eyes and your hand while he speaks on the phone, like you're torturing him by having all the fun to yourself.

You watch one of his hands come to adjust his trousers, his cock clearly straining desperately against the fabric.

"Now, now, general," Klaue says into the speaker. "That's not what was agreed upon and you know that."

His other hand moves yours aside before you can touch yourself. He takes it upon himself to continue pleasuring you with his fingers. His eyes close when he feels how wet you still are and his lip curls into a snarl as he mouths a curse.

"It's no problem of mine if you didn't understand the terms that were laid out," he snaps at the voice coming from the speaker.

You sigh as his fingers delve between your folds and rub your slowly. He looks up at you and brings a finger to his lips in a "shh" gesture before sliding two fingers into your soaking cunt.

He moves his fingers in and out of you at a slow pace, reaching deep inside you up to his third knuckle. You feel his rings press up against you, the gold threatening to also stretch you open and slip inside with his fingers. His head drifts from the phone over to your dripping sex taking his fingers with ease. He's not paying attention to what the man on the line is saying anymore. His free hand comes to rest on your waist and he kisses your bare thigh, his fingers curling inside you now to hit the soft spot that makes you whimper.

"...need to taste you again, baby," he says softly in between his kisses.

You shiver as his lips worship your skin. The person on the phone is still ranting. "In a minute," you say, your voice low and husky with desire. "Probably should finish up your phone call."

He grins up at you and removes his fingers. "I wasn't asking," he whispers.

He turns his attention to the phone and quips, "Oh, well good luck finding someone else to arm your security detail then, assuming the Avengers left anyone else."

As he speaks he throws your legs back over his shoulders making you gasp. You never knew he could multitask like this.

He dives back between your legs, his tongue entering you, his nose pressing right against your clit in just the right way. Your legs wrap tightly around him again, your thighs squeezing the sides of his head.

You looked down at his face trapped between your thighs and watch as he deeply inhales your scent through his nose, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as a growl rumbles forth from his throat. It vibrates through your flesh and you can feel it hit your cunt.

The other person on the line is furious now, their tirade loudly echoing off the walls along with your stifled whines.

Klaue is ravenous for you. His tongue finds your sensitive nub again and relentlessly flicks it. There's only so much you can do to contain your moans. his face moves just a hairs breadth in the right direction and a jolt of pleasure courses through you, taking you further into the throes of pleasure as he hits the spot.

"O-Ohh, FUCK," you moan involuntarily. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth and you start to cry out behind your palms.

"Klaue!!" the person on the phone shouts. "Are you even listening?? Klaue!!"

Klaue starts to sit up to address the caller, but one of your hands comes down to tangle in his curls and keep him in his place. He moans appreciatively, approving of your gesture.

You're so close to the edge that you can taste it. The pleasure builds deep in your core, the pressure becoming too much to hold back.

"Klaue!!" The caller shouts.

One of Klaue's hands lets go of you to blindly fumble around the desk until it reaches the phone and hits the hook switch to end the call.

His mouth never leaving your sex, he sits up a bit and abruptly uses both hands to pray your legs apart at the knee to fully expose you to him. The sudden motion makes your hands come back behind you to brace yourself on the desk.

His tongue hits your most sensitive spot and your legs start to shake in his grasp. It's too much and you need to let go. You're crying out loudly now, not really caring who might hear either out in the hall or down below. You're almost on the verge of tears it feels so good.

Your body convulses as you come hard with a high pitched mewl, your walls fluttering and your juices soaking his face.

He laps up your essence then slowly raises his head with a grin as your limbs go slack. His beard glistens with your arousal.

You're panting heavily, but also return the smile, a hand coming up to lovingly push back his hair as you sit up and adjust yourself on the desk.

He stands and leans in close to you and kisses you deeply, his tongue immediately finding its way into your mouth and allowing you to taste yourself. He pulls away, hands resting on the edge of his desk as he looks at you with a smug grin, his golden teeth catching the light.

"Suppose that's one way I can start taking business calls."

He winks.

[sisyphean-thirst]

Masterlist

Wanted to put some ideas I’m working on down before I forget. I’ll beautify this later, when I’m not working.

Ulysses Klaue

All About that Bass - Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader: Klaue. You. Anal. That’s the fic. One shot. WIP

Du Riescht So Gut - Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader: Before Everett Ross, there was you. Klaue decides to have fun with his favorite CIA agent, but goes about it all wrong. Short Multi-Chapter. More smutty than fluffy. WIP

I Need My Girl - Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader: Klaue is intrigued by the pretty merc he meets at a gala. The ensuing first date is odd, extravagant, and highly enjoyable. Longer Multi-Chapter. Still workshopping. More fluff and smut. WIP

David Robey

Toxic - David Robey x F!Secretary!Reader: You’re David’s new secretary. Despite his attempts to frustrate you, your work performance exceeds his expectations. He decides to give you some more challenging work… Mostly smut, some fluff. WIP

Sergei Kravinoff

Superpredators - Sergei Kravinoff x F!Superpowered!Reader: Experimented on against your wishes, you’re just trying to find a new normal. One man’s scent unlocks a dangerous feeling within you… Sergei finds himself in the sights of another hunter; one who matches him in strength, speed, and animalistic nature. Oneshot. WIP

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Alright, Yous asked for this - PART TWO

So, the list of all my drafts doesn't fit in one part...

Riding the Beasts SCP 682 smut CW: Monsterfucking

Sihtric AU-arama Just all osrts of Sihtric AUs, in a long, big list.

Some good ass edging Edging Modern!Sihtric, straight up smut

I'll Be Your Prize [Finan x Sihtric] Uhtred tells Finan he can ask for the thing he wants most, so Finan asks for Sihtric.

The Things We Do With Power - I The Boys fic, mild fix it, predominantly wicked smut.

A very old promise Once Upon the beginning of my blog, I promised to write a certain poly smut thing, so here goes nothing.

All About A Gag Sihtric x Finan x Osfert. Sihtric fakes a gag and Finan is not having it.

Domestic - Lan Mandragoran Lan x Reader, being cute.

One Big Bed Poly Wheel of Time smut. Rand is a slut in this one.

The Pantsident Mark tore his pants. Mark x Reader smut

A Long Drive [Marnas] Mark rips his pants and Arnas makes full use of the situation.

Orgasm Desperation - Stephen Colley Stephen x Reader, with reader making Stephen beg for it.

BoB Sexarama Shameless, plotless smut headcanons.

A3 - Throuple Aethelflead x Aldhelm x Aethelred headcanons

BoB Poly Family BS You get involved with Finan, Sihtric and Osferth and raise children with them. Modern verse, headcanon list

Band of Bebbanburgh - XII - Getting Ink Done Uhtred, Osferth, Finan and Sihtric are getting tatted and Sihtric likes it a bit too well.

First Kiss - Draco Malfoy Set during book six.

First Kiss - Eric Northman Simple as.

Basically every thought I have ever had about Sihtric, but in a pile Full ass headcanon dump on my very fav himbo.

Good Good Good, Good Vibrations Mr F uses a vibe on reader, in public, sorta.

Orgasm Desperation - Game!Lambert Needy Needy Lambertini.

Lambert in the Middle Lambert getting some DP from Eskel and Geralt.

Another Lovely Puppy Pile Reader x Many witchers (and Jaskier)

Band of Bebbanburgh - XI - Tetanus Uhtred 'challenges' Sihtric to catch a pigeon. Hoemboy gets pecked and scratched, but has no tetnaus immunisation, so Finan and Osferth have to wrangle him to go to the dco's. Sihtirc does not like doctors and has to be pacified with sexy times from his boyfriends.

Giving Birth to Sihtric's Child It is not reader's first and it will most certainly not be the last.

TLK Underworld AU Headcanon List about a mafia au of sorts

Finan Eating You Out He's good with his mouth, let's be real

How He Met Me - VI August POV version of The Prophet [fic]

At the Desk - Napoleon Solo Napoleon Solo fucking reader on her desk, Arranged Marriage verse.

Sex in the Changing Room - Modern!Sihtric Raunchy dirty naughty Sihtric fucking reader in the changing rooms of the local clothing store.

On the table - Sihtric Canon verse, he humps you on the table

Sex in the Bath - Captain Syverson Bath sex with Sy

Ever Curiouser - I Hellboy Longfic, polyship.

Some Bebbanboys smut, bc I am nasty Smutty stuff with Sihtric x Finan x Osferth

Ben Daimio x Werewolf Reader A beastly smut

The Bebbanboys Band AU headcanons

Ben Daimio - Sneaking Around Smutty, you and Ben avoid getting caught while fucking on the job

Sweetheart Prompt #3 Ivar Lothbrok, suprise surprise

Band of Bebbanburgh - X - What Sihtric Does Best Smut fest about Sihtric sucking dick

Ulysses Klaue Smut Does exactly what it says on the tin.

No Way We Are Making Homework - Modern Ubbe Modern Ubbe x Reader. You should be making homework, but you are not.

Nasty Nasty Dirty Gross Ubbe CW: Incest Ubbe uses one specific way of making Hvitserk listen.

Ubbe x Alfred - Modern AU Ubbe and Alfred shower together.

This Home I Built - TLK Poly Fest Selfish fix it fic, lotsa smut, mainly about Sihtric.

Santiago Garcia Breeding Kink V1 Santi knocking you up.

Alpha Geralt Going Feral Nasty smut with no excuses

Sihtric - Breeding Kink V1 Sihtric knocking you up

Omega Sihtric Going Feral Needy Omega Sihtric

Alpha Geralt Scenting You Scenting sesh getting out of hand.

Santiago Garcia - Rough Sex Ah yes, more shameless porn with no plot.

Scenting Omega Sihtric Scenting Omega Sihtric gets out of hand.

My Fair Lady Shameless Aldflaed smut

Expectations - Loki Shameless Loki smut

Choking Sam Winchester Reader applying some pressure to a big moose, sexually.

At Saltwick What happened between Sihtric, Finan and Osferth while the kids were asleep.

Sex in Public - Sihtric Canon verse.

Neteyam x Au'Nung Neteyam almost died and Au'Nung is distressed.

Proof That I am an Aweful Person [TLK Poly stuff] More ReaderxPretty Boys headcanons

Fjall Stoneheart - Doggystyle Shameless smut

Band of Bebbanburgh - IX - Seeking Refuge Osferth goes to Finan when his homelife starts turning for the worst.

Breeding V1 - Jake Sully Jake Sully knocking you up.

Band of Bebbanburgh - VIII - Show You How Sihtric teases Osferth how to please Finan

Band of Bebbanburgh - VII - Small Comforts Finan having himself a slice of Sihtric.

Band of Bebbanburgh - VI - Sihtric's Dream Sihtric wakes up from a bad dream and Finan and Osferth put him at ease.

By God(s) and Men - Finan x Sihtric Canon verse; Sihtric and Finan figure out their dynamic.

The Baker's Boy - Finan x Sihtric Modern AU; Finan just realised he's been in love with Sihtric all along.

The Witan - Mark/Arnas/Reader CW: RPF and RPS Established Arnas x Reader and Past Marnas. Arnas convinced reader to come along to a TLK cast vaca and things spin swiftly out on his control.

All Three of Them Reader x Sihtric x Finan x Osferth smut

Threesome with Sihtric and Osferth Shameless smut with a lil twist

Threesome with Sihtric and Finan Dirty smutty smut smut smut

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝and now she’s all over me it’s like i paid for it❞

(not my gif)

summary: get in there, get what you want, get out.

warnings: smut, oral sex m receiving, klaue straight up murders someone (that means descriptions of blood) fingering, unprotected sex, prostitutes, there’s probably more warnings so let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.3k

a/n: in my defense, i rewatched black panther and i was left unsupervised. this is kind of short, bye

//////

The LED lights lining the walls of the lobby were seedy, flickering, flashing a pathetically inconsistent purple that only further confirmed this place was a shithole. Something about it made you think it wasn’t to be trusted. A bad attempt at friendliness.

Get in there, get what you want, get out. Try not to speak to anyone if you can, your Korean’s horrible. Those were the exact instructions you’d given yourself.

As it turns out, it didn’t take long to find Klaue: he was in the darkened room beyond the bar, some hooker you didn’t recognize on his lap, the only thing unusual about it. You didn’t let the jealousy flood you— no time to waste on those petty emotions.

Being careful not to take your eyes off them, you leaned as seductively as you could against the doorframe. “Hey.”

You knew Klaue could only see your silhouette, but you hoped your voice was giveaway enough.

However, confusion flooded his features— apparently not.

“Who’s there?” he called, pushing the girl off his lap, and you took your first, confident steps towards the lamplight.

“Me, duh. I thought we had a deal, why you bringing some other whore into this?”

“Uh, I’m right here,” the girl cut in rudely, and even though she looked Korean, her accent was all American.

There was an awkward beat, then Klaue gave her a little push towards the door. “Go off, now. Don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me.”

She gave him a look, but started off the couch obediently: she didn’t get five steps before Klaue unholstered a pistol and opened fire on her back.

The girl collapsed in the space between you: her blood looked syrupy on the carpet.

“Right in front of me? Seriously?” you said, sidestepping the growing pool so the bottoms of your Louboutins wouldn’t get redder than they already were, “Who’s gonna clean it up?”

Klaue shrugged half-heartedly, and the pistol was still smoking, so he put it on the seat next to him instead of back in the holster. “They have janitors.”

There was silence as you sat down next to him.

“How long you staying in Korea?” you mumbled.

“Until my partner makes a move,” he said, his eyes fixed on the dead girl. She was definitely dead, and had died almost instantly, but dead bodies twitched. It was unnerving.

“How long you planning on staying in this room?” you pressed, turning your gaze back to him.

Klaue looked at you this time, his expression impossible to read.

“Until there’s a silver lining.”

He bent down to kiss you then, and normally you weren’t the type to rush, but you slipped your tongue in his mouth immediately, your hand tightening on his leg. He responded by gripping you by the nape of your neck, sending hot spirals everywhere he was touching you.

When he was done feeling out your neck, he reached for your leg, yanked it over his lap pretty goddamn quickly, and if you had any breath left, you would’ve giggled. You didn’t spend much time teasing him through his slacks like you normally would’ve: you simply lowered yourself down between his spread legs and teased him with your hands.

“What do you want?” you asked him, looking up at him, pupils blown wide but hardly noticeable in the lighting. He was hard, of course he was, maybe not fully yet, but certainly swollen, you could feel it.

Klaue wrapped his flesh hand in your hair, curling his fingers in tight. “I want fucking everything.”

You took that as cue to get a move on: you fumbled with his zipper and soon enough his cock was free.

You’d guessed right. He was already leaking and swollen, a drop of precum rolling down from the tip that practically begged you to lick it off.

His hips arched into your palm as you started stroking him, and you grinned as Klaue pulled you down, forcing you to taste him.

He was so big you could easily feel him in the back of your mouth, but you didn’t care, you bobbed your head and swirled your tongue until you extracted a low groan out of him. Your knees were digging into the carpet, your dress was probably riding up, and the girl was dead, for fuck’s sake, but none of it mattered.

You gagged and Klaue took over, fucking into your mouth with the flesh hand still in your hair. You moaned against him, knowing your drool was rolling down his length, and your eyes fluttered shut as he thrust wantonly into your mouth.

It didn’t take much before he was spilling onto your tongue.

“Plenty of time to make a mess of that pretty face later,” Klaue mumbled, a sly grin in his voice, and your pussy clenched around nothing as the grip on the back of your hair loosened.

You rose, hooking your legs around him, and Klaue slipped both hands under your slip dress to grip your ass as he kissed you searing and open-mouthed. You couldn’t help but flinch at having his weaponized hand on you, especially as it dipped down beneath your underwear, but the apprehension lessened as an artificial finger disappeared into your pussy.

“Fuck,” you hissed: it was almost too much. He was sucking a bruising kiss on your neck, you could feel the pressure building.

You twisted your hips against him and Klaue gave a shapeless grunt.

“You gonna come for me, love?” he mumbled, crooking the finger, “It’s barely been ten fucking seconds…”

“Need you,” you muttered breathlessly, “Needed you ever since I stepped into this place.”

“Ay, I can tell, comin’ in here lookin’ like that.”

His voice dipped disastrously low and you gasped as he tugged down the front of your dress: the rush of cool air around your breasts pushed you to the precipice, and you arched on his fingers.

“Calm down, love.”

You groaned as he twisted one of your nipples with his flesh hand, only to soothe the sting of pain with a wet kiss around the sensitive skin. Your eyes rolled back, you barely felt him withdrawing his artificial finger.

“So fucking needy,” he groaned, gripping your ass, actually pulling you up out of the way so he could tease his cock on your folds, “Bet you’d come if I let the head of it in, eh?”

You nodded frantically, and Klaue chuckled darkly. “That’s what I thought.”

So fucking generous tonight, he let you on his cock, and you moaned out loud as the knot in your stomach finally loosened. “Holy fuck.”

“Spread your legs, love,” he muttered thickly.

You did to the best of your ability, sinking down further on his cock, and Klaue rubbed your clit, moaning unabashedly like it was the most angelic thing he’d ever touched.

“Takin’ it so well…”

Klaue was completely buried inside of you when he started moving: you gasped pathetically as he pulled out half an inch only to sink even deeper than before, and your orgasm came like a wave, making everything in you clench and unclench at once.

You didn’t even register moving forward, but suddenly your lips were crashed against his as you twisted your hips against him, pushing even further.

It was rhythmic, you were moving together, he had a hand firm on your hip as he thrust into you, and you were doing your best to take all of him when he was filling you so deeply like this.

God, this feeling was enough to make you cross countries. You’d hijacked the jet just for this. It was hard to believe you’d actually been in Taiwan this afternoon.

“That’s it, love,” Klaue groaned. “I’m so fuckin’ close, making a mess of me now…”

He gave a few more lazy thrusts before completely slowing to a stop, and you gasped as you felt him fill you, the warmth practically covering every inch of you, he was so fucking deep.

“Thanks,” you bit out, panting, even though you knew you’d be getting back on him within minutes.

Klaue squeezed your wrist, possibly unable to move. “My pleasure.”

It took all the strength you had left, but you hoisted yourself off of him and tugged your dress down, only to collapse beside him as your legs were aching.

“Ow,” you mumbled pathetically.

“Stay,” Klaue mumbled, wrapping an arm around you.

[missmonsters2]

Between the Lines || IX

PAIRING: Steve Rogers & Fem!Reader (Platonic) / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Vampire AU. Life has changed drastically since the 1600s. Things are always on the move, and you’ve been very careful to not get on SHIELDs radar. Living on the down-low owning a café, you’re content to live out a quiet existence. That is until the Avengers enter your life.

[Set after the New York Invasion, in CAWS, and goes up to AoU. Canon divergent after.]

Warnings: This series will contain smut(**), poly-relationship, and dark themes.

Note: Everyone last chapter: “I’m ready for Wanda to fucking ruin me.” LMAO SAME. 

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII

PART IX of XX

Count: 4782

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Antique.

That was the best way Natasha could describe your place. You had more warm colors for your walls and older styled furniture that made her feel like she was transcending time. 

They had just gotten back from visiting Allison, who was beyond ecstatic to see you and Natasha. Her mother seemed to be all better now, and no longer needed the extra care for Allison. The babysitter you had recommended last time seemed to be working just fine for them when her mother needed to pull extra shifts, but you still promised to visit Allison when you could.

"Your place is nice," Natasha smiles softly, and you turn your head around to smile back at her as you grab a cup from the cupboard. 

"Really? David says I have the taste of an old person. To my defense, I am old," you snort. 

Natasha chuckles, "I like it."

She feels a little excited because it looks like you're making coffee for her, and it feels like it's been such a long time since Natasha has had your coffee.

"Even though I've lived so long and have adapted, this style makes me feel more at home," you softly explain, and Natasha's eyes turn tender.

You finish brewing Natasha her coffee and bring it over to her. She takes a sip, sighing with bliss.

Grinning at her, you're about to say something else when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Pulling it out, you check to see that it's from David.

"We've got to head out," You tell the redhead. "David's got a lead for us."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Your search didn't yield much more than what David could find, which was annoying. Luckily, you didn't end up having to use your gift and instead used compulsion to find information. 

Natasha trailed along, watching you work but also making herself useful when she could. 

Within two hours, you felt like you already found out what you could before heading back to shower and head off to the Stark tower again. 

When you get there, you already see David talking with Steve and Maria.

"Fatalities?" You could hear Steve ask. 

"Only when engaged," David says as he catches your eye when you enter the room. "Mostly guys left in a fugue state going on about old memories, worst fears, and something too fast to see."

"Maximoffs," Maria mutters, and you're curious about Wanda's powers. They seemed similar to Tatyana's, but you want to confirm if Wanda's powers had only come from the scepter. 

"That makes sense that he would seek them out. They have something in common," Steve said as he saw you approaching. "Find anything?" 

"No more than you did, apparently," you shrugged.

"Well," David says as he's looking at his tablet. "Nothing in common anymore." He flips the tablet and a picture of Strucker's dead body and the word 'PEACE' written in blood on the wall next to him.

"Lovely," Maria huffs. 

You see Clint on the phone just a couple feet from you, and Steve notices him too. 

"So, you're not coming home tonight even though you explicitly said you would," you here a feminine voice on the phone. 

"That's a negative," Clint says.

"This better be your last one for a while, I don't care what your boss says," you hear the woman respond. In the background, you could also hear two kids screaming, 'Is that dad? Can I talk to dad! Dad!'

"I answer to you," Clint responds almost dutifully. 

"...If you miss the birth of our child...I'll kill you..."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Barton," Steve interrupts, "We might have something."

"Gotta go," Clint says quickly before he hangs up and turns to face you all.

"Who was that?" Steve asks.

"Girlfriend," Clint's eyes travel to you and David because it was obvious he knew you had heard him.

Steve doesn't pay it any mind as he leads everyone back into the room. You and David lag behind because Clint is walking beside the two of you.

"Listen--"

"It's none of our business, Clint," you cut him off with a wave. "We didn't hear a thing."

Clint sighs and gives you a smile of thanks.

"Although, you should be more careful if you're trying to keep them a secret," David says as he tapped away on his tablet.

He then holds up his tablet to you and Clint, a photo dated two years ago of Clint and his family on a ride at Disneyland.

"This you?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You've known as a vampire, it's impossible to get headaches, but it doesn't stop you from feeling like you have one.

Everyone is getting ready to get out onto the Quinjet to take off to the next location to find Ulysses Klaue as you'll be likely to find Ultron and the twins there. 

There isn't much for you to ever prepare for, so you laze around in the kitchen before Natasha strolls in, the first to finish.

"Hey, you," she smiles, and you walk over to her.

"Hey, yourself," you smile as you inspect her suit. "Got everything?"

"Hopefully," Natasha shrugs.

You know you'll most likely meet Wanda soon, and something inside you tells you it'll bring chaos. 

Nothing ever truly feels like it's over, but you have Natasha. 

You look at her with slow eyes.

Sometimes it feels wrong to be this happy with Natasha, to allow yourself that kind of privilege. But there are no words you could use to describe what Natasha is to you and how you crave her. 

Natasha peers through her lashes, catching the look in your eyes. She walks backward, pulling you with her until she hits the counter before she hops herself up onto it. Pulling you closer by the collar of your shirt, you end up between her legs, your hands automatically around her waist while hers are around your neck.

"When you have that look on your face, it makes me want to just...eat you," Natasha licks her lip, and you can't help but laugh lightly as she traces her thumb over your bottom lip. 

"You know how funny that sounds, right?" You smile.

Natasha merely smirks as she lowers her head to press her lips against yours in a soft kiss.

She tastes like remnants of peach candy, and you hum into her mouth. Licking her bottom lip, you hold her hips tighter.

Good.

She smells good.

Like vanilla and dry leaves. 

You bite her bottom lip gently, appreciating the way she moans lightly. It seems to excite her more as her heart pounds in her chest. You pull away, lowering your head as the tip of your nose drags against her side of her neck. 

You inhale as Natasha holds your neck a little tighter.

You could hear it, smell, the blood rushing through Natasha's veins.

It would be so easy.

Natasha would be delicious, you just know it. Her blood hits every part of your sensories, and she would feel so good.

Your teeth drag lightly where your tongue had been.

'You can't.'

The voice and words ring in your head loud and clear. 

Immediately, you pull away, almost panting as you do. 

Natasha calls your name, but you shake your head.

"I just need a moment," you tell her, taking in a deep breath.

You haven't felt this way in so long, you felt like a child experiencing bloodlust again. 

It had been so easy throughout the years to control it, knowing the consequences if you did it.

Yet, having Natasha tested every limit you had again. 

You never thought you would ever experiencing wanting to drink from someone again. 

"I'm sorry," Natasha says hesitantly. She had been so caught up in the moment, and you felt so good. 

For a moment...she...she wanted you to bite her.

You clear your throat as your head clears again.

"Don't apologize," you give her a tight smile, "I should have better control."

Natasha is about to say something else when you help her down from the counter.

"C'mon," you say as you pull her along, "we should head to the Quinjet."

And Natasha's words die on her tongue. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Don't compare me with Stark! He's a sickness!"

You all come in time just as Ultron has sliced off Klaue's arm as he rants about Tony. 

"Ahh, junior," Tony appears with Thor and Steve behind him. "You're gonna break your old man's heart."

"If I have to," Ultron tilts his head.

"Daddy issues, am I right?" You lean over to David to say, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"He's not a villain without one," David says back.

You hear a laugh disguised as a cough from Pietro. He smirks at you, and you give him a slight quirk of your lip back. 

But then your eyes travel next to him.

It hits you in the gut. 

A million flashbacks happen to you, and you feel like someone just knocked all the air out of your body, and you're breathless. It's like you're going through a spiral of vertigo until you look her in the eyes.

She looks like her. 

You were prepared to see the similarities, but this was more than you had expected. 

But you knew it was not Tatyana.

You blinked, eyes focusing on Wanda. 

She was staring at you too, but she didn't seem sure of what to make of it.

"You two can still walk away from this," Steve's voice interrupts the two of you.

"Oh, we will," Wanda rips her gaze from you, tilting her head as she smirks sardonically at Steve.

"I know you've suffered," Steve acknowledges, and for a second, you see rage flash through Wanda's eyes because while Steve knows, he doesn't truly know what they've been through.

Ultron lets out a groan of disgust. "Captain America," he says with a certain tone to his voice. "God's righteous man, pretending you could live without a war."

"I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but..." Ultron tilts his head, looking at Steve.

Thor tries to urge Ultron to keep the peace, but Ultron obviously declines.

"What's the vibranium for?" Tony asks.

Ultron looks as giddy as he can. "I'm glad you asked since I wanted to take this time to reveal my evil plan!"

Suddenly, Iron Legion Bots break through the glass and start attacking. 

You and David have split up, he's taken off after Pietro and you to find Wanda. 

Taking out Klaue's men along the way, you keep walking in the direction you could hear her in. 

Her footsteps were rather light, and she had a distinct smell of cinnamon and orange blossoms. 

"Thor! Status!" Steve yelled into the earpiece.

"The girl tried to warp my mind. Take special care, I doubt a human could keep her at bay. Fortunately, I am mighty," Thor trailed off.

You knew immediately what was happening. 

"Nat," you called worriedly.

"I'm fine," she reassures you. 

"David?" You called next.

"Still good," he grumbles. "Fast little bastard."

"Wait," David calls. "She's got Natasha and Steve in a hallucination."

You're about to turn around immediately to go back to Natasha, but David stops you.

"Don't," he warns. "Nat's still okay, just caught up in whatever she's seeing. If you want to put an end to it, catch the girl."

You grit your teeth but huff in agreement. 

You stand along the empty hallway, breaking the wrist of a man who tries to charge at you. Flinging him over the railing, he lands on sacks of dirt and groans. 

It seems you don't have to go to Wanda because you hear those light footsteps behind you, creeping up.

She stands behind you, unknowing you can hear her heart beating as she raises her hand, tendrils forming at her fingers.

You turn around abruptly, grabbing her wrist. Faced with Wanda's shock widened eyes, you quirk your lip at her. 

"Cute," you tell her, "but it won't work on me."

"And why is that?" Wanda asks accent heavy in her voice that sounds so familiar to you.

"To control--compel, me to what you want, your will has to be stronger than mine," you tell her, pulling her closer by her wrist to show that even as close as she was, she couldn't use her mind control on you. "So? Do you still think you can play your little mind games on me?"

Maybe you had tugged too hard, but now Wanda was too close. Her eyes staring into yours as if she was searching for something. Lips slightly parted, you could feel her breath on you. 

"Why?" Wanda murmurs as she tilts her head slightly at you.

"Why what?" You return.

"Why do you stare at me like that?" Wanda gets closer.

You should pull away. Disarm her, and go secure Pietro to finish the mission. 

But it feels like there's an electric pulse in the air that seems to keep you rooted.

"Stare at you like what?" You husk.

Wanda licks her lips, drawings your eyes. "Stare at me like you want to save me."

"You're helping a homicidal robotic manic who wants to destroy the world," you quirk your brow at her. "I think that warrants needing to be saved or at least some sense beaten into you."

"He will save the world by putting an end of the Avengers," Wanda hisses. She draws forth the red wisps again in her other hand, holding it close to you. "Perhaps I can't 'play my little mind games' with you. But power is power."

Immediately, you feel Wanda's power surround your body before she uses it to force you through the window. You find yourself staring at the sky, blinking as you fall. 

You swiftly turn around, positioning yourself upright as you land on the ground, creating a good-sized crater. There's a momentary crack in your ankles from the pressure and height you fell from, but as quick as it happens, it heals. 

You look up, shards of glass falling around you, and you sigh.

It seems your suspicions were correct, that Wanda's powers were genuine. The feel of it was too raw and similar to Tatyana's.

And that made things complicated. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Hey, hey, look at me," you coo as you hold Natasha's face in your hands, turning her to look at you. Her eyes are unfocused, and honestly, it's a little challenging to get her to actually look at you. 

You had arrived shortly back into the facility after hearing Clint saying they needed to move. Clint had been trying to shake Natasha out of it, but it wasn't working, and so you stepped in.

"I have no place in the world," Natasha mutters. 

You had a pretty good guess about what she was seeing, and so did Clint.

"How do we get her out? Do we just have to wait?" Clint asked you.

"No," you say, stroking Natasha's cheek, tilting her face up as you look down into her eyes. "We overpower it."

Your pupils explode into liquid pools, swirling as you forced Natasha's to do the same. It would take a little longer, with Natasha not even being lucid. 

"Look at me," you tell her softly. Natasha blinks. "Wherever you are, it's not real."

You start to see flickers of speckles in Natasha's eyes and lick your lips.

"Come back to me," you compel her softly but with a slight bite in your tone. "You have a place in the world. Here, as an Avengers, with Clint and everyone else." The fog is clearing from Natasha's mind, your eyes responding more to yours and your words. 

"With me," you faintly say.

"Come back."

Life comes back to Natasha, her eyes no longer dull as she comes face to face with you. She's got a massive headache and slight nausea.

Natasha swallows as you still hold her face in your hands. She wants to say something, but Tony interrupts. 

"Guys, I could really use some help. Maybe try the lullaby again?"

You look at Natasha, but she's in no shape to try to go against the Hulk.

"The rest of the team is down," Clint responds.

You look around to see David trying to get Steve out of his hallucination. 

"David will handle things here. Get everyone back onto the jet. The twins and Ultron are probably long gone by now. I'm going to help Tony."

You look once more at Natasha, who lifts the corner of her mouth.

"Be careful," she tells you.

"Aren't I always?" Giving her a wink, you take off in a blur.

"Coordinates, Stark," you say into your earpiece. 

"Getting my ass beat right now!" Tony groans.

"Coordinates, Stark, not status. I already know you're getting your ass beat," you smirk.

"Don't be a dick," he mutters, but you're unsure if that was to you or Banner. He tells you where to meet him, but it gets easier to figure out as you get closer, and you can hear glass and building being shattered, and Banner's roars along with civilian screams.

You pick up speed, reaching there as you stand a few feet away, and Tony spots you.

"What's the plan?" Tony asks.

"Get him away from the city. Damage's been done, but we should try to stop him from doing any more," you see Tony struggling to hold him down. His suit is bulked up, and you're sure he prepared this specifically for Banner.

"Where do we bring him?" Tony's punching Banner in the face, trying to get him to 'go to sleep.'

"Few miles from the Quinjet. There should be some open space."

"Alright," Tony says, having no other choice but to trust you.

He gets VERONICA to send in a new Hulkbuster arm, using it to suction in the Hulk's arm as they take to the skies. You start to run in the same direction they're going.

"Alright, what do we do after we get him in the area?" Tony's overworking the jets in his feet while the Hulk struggles to get the upper hand in the air.

"Can you trap him in his spot?"

"I have one extra set electric bars, but he dug a hole in the ground to escape it."

"Just set them in the ground, wide berth and electrodes on."

You enter into a clearing, and Tony drops Banner, breaking the ground as he lands. 

Immediately, giant plates dig into the earth, surrounding Banner as he gets electrified. He screams, arching his back before he turns and snarls at you.

"You gonna try this compulsion thing?" Tony asks through his mask.

"Try being a keyword," you mutter, "I have a feeling he's not going to be receptive towards it."

"Is anyone receptive towards compulsion, really?" Tony grumbles.

"Yeah," you smirk, "humans."

You walk around the perimeter of the plates, and the Hulk turns his body as his eyes follow you.

"You're angry," you acknowledge. "She made you angry."

The Hulk only roars and glares at you, the surrounding area of his eyes were red. 

You lock eyes, pupils expanding as you try to reel him in. 

"But look around you, think if there's anything right now to be angry about," you say to him. His head moves side to side, but you can tell the Hulk is fighting it. "Are you really angry, or did she just tell you you're angry? Who are you outraged at? The civilians who've done nothing to you? Tony? Me?"

You kept circling, keeping your eyes locked on his. 

"Yourself?" You asked, and when the Hulk lets out an enraged yowl, you know you've hit the spot.

"You need to calm down," you lick your lips. "Before you do something that will really make you angry with yourself."

The Hulk is huffing and puffing as he continues to stare at you, and you try to expand the compulsion stronger. 

For a second, you think it's working. The Hulk is shaking his head, stumbling backward.

But as quick as that happens, suddenly he punches himself in the face, knocking himself out of your control before he lets out another bellowing scream. 

He starts running even as the plates send out electric shocks, bombarding through one of them as it breaks. 

"He's too ravaged for me to even try to influence him to calm down," you tell Tony quickly as you take off towards the Hulk.

"I think I got that," Tony has to move out of the way before the Hulk steamrolls him. 

"New plan," you say, running towards Tony.

"What are you--" he starts to say, but you cut him off.

"Throw me onto his back!" You leap, forcing Tony to catch you as he spins around once before whipping you in the direction the Hulk took off in. 

The speed propelled you straight towards him, he didn't even see it coming as he was approaching the Quinjet. Everyone had come outside, hearing his thundering footsteps as he ran in their direction.

You latched onto his back, wrapping your tiny arms the best you could around his neck with crushing force, almost enough to snap his windpipe. 

He chokes, feet digging into the ground as he abruptly stopped. His hand comes up to your arm, and you only have a second before he forces you to release him via breaking your arm. 

You open your mouth, teeth sharp as venom pooled to them before you dug it into his neck. 

He was grumbling at you before, but he was definitely screaming at you now. 

The sound of agonizing wails leaves his mouth as he falls to his knees. You let go of his neck. 

Falling forward, the Hulk writhes in pain, and you could see the venom traveling in his veins as they turned a dark green on his skin. He was crawling as he groaned.

Soon, the venom overtook his system to the point Banner began to change back to a man. He lay there, moaning in pain as Tony came forward along with Clint, who threw a blanket over him.

"What did you do?" Tony asked, and David came out, blurring over to carry Bruce into the Quinjet.

"Forced him to change back," you mutter as you also got onto the Quinjet. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

David put Banner on a makeshift bed while Clint flew the Quinjet out of the area. 

Bruce was thrusting off the table as he still writhed in pain while everyone else stood around.

"What's happening to him?" Steve asked. He was covered in dirt and grime, and he looked a little defeated.

"The venom is breaking his cells down," you say, eyes drifting to David, who nods, restraining Bruce down.

You could hear more questions being fired, but you didn't answer. You threw the blanket off of Bruce, and everyone could see his veins, dark and poisoned-looking.

Leaning over, you began to bite him various places until the discoloration in his veins began to disappear. The seizing slowed down in Bruce as he came to a restful stop, but beads of sweat ran down his forehead. He was still breathing heavily, and his eyes remained closed.

"He's going to have to sleep that off," you spitting out blood into a nearby bucket, and wiping your mouth. David hands you a bottle of water, which you use to rinse your mouth, spitting it out until your mouth was clear.

Natasha comes up to check on you, putting her hand on your back softly as you try to give her a smile that ends up being more of a grimace.

"What was that?" Tony asked as he inspected his friend.

"I told you," you say as Natasha gives you some gum. "Venom can be used in three ways. That was one of them."

"But what does it do," Tony emphasized.

The mint flavor spread throughout your mouth, and you were thankful for a change in taste. Lately, it's been getting harder to control your thirst.

"When venom is used to harm, it attacks the cells in your body. Specifically, it makes them explode. It's painful as it travels through your veins because it's basically shredding everything in its path as it moves. The more venom you inject, the faster the deterioration goes," you say. 

"Why did you bite him again?" Steve asks. 

"There's only one way to reverse it," you peer over to Bruce's sleeping form. "Only the venom of the vampire who inflicted it can undo it. I injected the healing venom to counteract it. He'll be fine, maybe just a couple scars, and feeling sore for a few days."

"We need to lay low while we can," David interrupts as he looks at his tablet.

"That's a great idea," you hear Maria chime in through the intercoms. "The new is loving you guys. No one else is. There's no official arrest warrant for Banner, but it's up in the air."

"Stark Relief Foundation?" Tony asks.

"Already on scene. How's everyone?" She replies.

"We took a hit, they're shaking it off right now," you mutter.

"Well, stay in stealth mode for now, and don't come back here," Maria warned,  knowing it would be ugly.

"So, run and hide?" Tony seems displeased.

"Until we find Ultron, there are not many options on the table," Maria sighed, disconnecting after that. 

Tony goes over to Clint, slapping his hand on Clint's shoulder. "Need to switch out?"

Clint shakes his head, "Nah, I'm good. If you wanna get some kip, now would be the time, we're still a couple hours out."

You look over to Clint, noticing the dark bags under his eyes, and for the first time, you see how tired he must be.

"A couple hours from where?" Tony asks.

"A safe house," Clint answers, looking at you and David, and you know immediately where he's taking you.

You turn to Natasha, and it seems she knows as well.

Taking the time to sit near the back, you hold your girlfriend in your arms, stroking the side of her arms. Natasha's worn, you can tell by the paleness in her skin, and she's upset. 

You sit in silence for a good chunk of the time. As much as you hate it, the image of Wanda doesn't leave your mind. There was something that brewed deep within you, and you felt haunted. 

It isn't until Natasha decides to speak and breaks your thoughts.

"I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't gotten me out of that hallucination," Natasha says quietly to avoid drawing the attention of the others, but now used with David unintentionally being able to listen.

"I wish I could've been there sooner," you say at the same level of quietness, but Natasha shakes her head. 

"Sometimes," she starts, licking her dry lips, "it's so easy to live every day like that part of my life didn't happen. Even though it's my sole reason to do the things I do. I want to clear my ledger, but it's..."

"It's complicated," you finish for her when she drags.

It's silent for a few minutes as the two of you rest, you lean your head on top of Natasha's, breathing slowly as you try to comfort her.

"I had never thought about wanting kids," Natasha starts quietly again, and you hum softly in the back of your throat to tell her you're listening. 

"I'm not even really sure that I do or not, but then I get reminded that I can't either way."

You hold her bicep tighter, turning your head to press a kiss to her head.

"It's okay to mourn the loss of the choice," you murmur. 

Natasha nudges herself closer to you, inhaling your scent as it eases her. The images don't quite go away. They linger in her mind, a wretched memory of everything she's endured. 

"I suppose it's easier," Natasha mumbles. "It's one less thing to worry about, one less thing that would matter more than a mission. It makes everything easier, even killing."

"Don't do that," you admonish her gently. "While those things can be true, don't make yourself out to be a monster."

Natasha remains quiet, not the kind where she doesn't believe you, but the kind where she doesn't quite have the right words to say for once.

"You act like you don't already have things that would matter more than a mission, things that you don't worry about," you lift your other hand up, using your fingers to tilt her chin until she's facing you. 

Your lips are so close, the warmth vibrating between the two of you. 

"Because you already do, don't you?" You murmur. "Everyone on this ship is your family--I'm your family, just as you are mine."

PART X

[cinebration]

Requests! *Open 48 Hours*

To celebrate reaching 600+ followers, I am open for requests for 48 hours! *Requests close Wednesday, December 2nd, 4:30pm PST (12:30am GMT)*

Rules

Send to my ask box! Please keep in mind that these requests are meant to be one-shot drabbles.

No smut. No pregnancy fics or A/B/O fics. No crossover fics. No actor x reader. Other AUs acceptable.

Identify the gender of the reader if you want something other than female.

Because I try to remain as true to character as possible, I reserve the right to reject or tweak requests to keep the characters in character.

Below are character lists divided by actors and fandoms.

By Actor

Henry Cavill: Napoleon Solo, August Walker, Captain Syverson, Geralt of Rivia, Sherlock Holmes

Ewan McGregor: Roman Sionis, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Camerlengo Patrick McKenna

Christian Bale: Bruce Wayne, John Preston, Patrick Bateman, Alfred Borden

Tom Hardy: Eames, Eddie Brock, Alfie Solomons, James Keziah Delaney, Bob (The Drop), Forrest Bondurant, Tuck, Tommy Conlon

By Fandom

DCEU: Roman Sionis, Victor Zsasz (BoP), Dr. Crane/Scarecrow (Nolan’s Batman trilogy), Ra’s al Ghul (Batman Begins/Gotham), Arthur Curry, Dr. Shivana

MCU: Loki, Clint Barton, Ulysses Klaue, Doctor Strange, Quentin Beck, Thor

X-Men: Charles Xavier, Erik Lensherr, Logan/Wolverine, Remy Lebeau/Gambit

Star Wars: Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Kylo Ren, DJ

Misc: Illya Kuryakin, Lestat, Herbert West

[eupheme]

— kitten’s got klaue(s)

ulysses klaue x f!reader

rated e - 7.6k

Tags: fun filth, flirting, annoyance-to-lovers, mention of alcohol, masturbation, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, sub/dom elements, fingering, one pussy slap, light choking, oral, dirty talk, sort-of degradation, rough sex

A/N: this is a request from ao3! And so inspired by the amazing Klaue fics by @tarrenterror25 and @the-eyes-of-andyserkis - please check them out! 💕

“Are you looking for anything else tonight, princess?”

You frown, “I didn’t ask for anything else.”

“I was thinking along the lines of dinner.” Klaue clarifies, before his voice lowers conspiratorially, “I do I love eating out.”

(You can’t stand him. So why can’t you stop thinking about him?)

He drove you mad.

You hated how he always seemed to press your buttons, wind you up. With everyone else, you were professional, and they returned that courtesy.

They’d meet you in clean-cut suits, never daring to let their eyes drag down your form like his did. Showing up to your meetings with a cocky grin and a wink - wearing khaki shirts that were half-unbuttoned.

Teasing you. Stepping a little too close, letting his voice lower until it was rough, husky rasp and you were imagining him saying other things to you, instead.

As if it wasn’t hard enough to negotiate, to keep your wits about you. Ensuring the family business was kept running smoothly.

Klaue was a wild card.

But he got you the things you needed, things that no one else could.

Unable to help dangling them, with narrowed eyes and a curving smirk, before handing them over.

Tonight, in your private office, he lets his hip bump yours. His chin sweeping against your shoulder as he opens the metal case. Letting you check through it, though you can feel the brush of his chest against your back with each breath, smell the sharp curl of his cologne.

Pointing out the details as you nod, noting with satisfaction that he’s managed precisely what you’re looking for.

All that was left was to agree to a price.

“It will do,” You sigh, putting on a show.

Turning, until you’re facing him. His hands shove into his pockets then, the shirt pulling tight across his chest.

His brow quirks, and your head tilts, “What are you looking for it?”

“Half-mil.”

You scoff at his answer, the sound sliding from your throat before you can stop it. A mark deepening between your brows, as your lips purse, “I thought you told me four.”

“I’ve told you a lot of things,” He shrugs, his eyes glittering, “You’re not the only one looking for this. Price’s gone up.”

It’s a bluff, you think.

Your eyes scan his, the sharp chips of bright blue. Down to the crisp white of the dress shirt he wears today. A loose tie that matches his eyes - a vest a few shades darker.

His jacket missing, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the dark ink on his arm - showing that he’s not like them. He’s his own man, not constrained to stuffy suits, pointed leather shoes.

Your fingers lift to his tie, tracing the knot. Carefully straightening it, before smoothing it down against his chest. It’s a soft attempt to gain the upper hand, to distract him - letting your eyes sweep over the flash of his tattooed sternum, the curl of grey-flecked hair peeking out.

“Four.” You repeat, an upward tilt of your chin, until you’re meeting his gaze again.

Where he’s watching, with half-lidded eyes. Curious and amused, the peek of his tongue as he wets his lips.

A long pause, a moment where you hold your breath - waiting for his answer. Before it comes, sliding through his lips with a grin.

“Fine.”

The two of you shake on it, biting back your own smile - your hand dwarfed in his. Trying not to think too much about it, the pressure of his grip, his thick fingers.

"There now. Aren't you going to thank me?" There's a lilt to his voice, the slight sweep of his thumb against the back of your hand.

"Thank you?" Your answering laugh is a short, derisive thing, "For accepting the price we had originally agreed upon? I don't think so."

You haven't thanked him before, and you certainly weren't about to start now.

He grins with a shrug, as the handshake lingers for just a moment longer - until your hands drop, and you’re closing the case. The money will be wired over tonight, the item shipped out in the morning.

Your job here is done.

But Klaue still hovers, arms crossed over his chest. Displaying his thick forearms, his hip pressing into the sturdy table.

Silently watching, until that glint in his eye is back. Until he’s asking, “Are you looking for anything else tonight, princess?”

The words drawn out, a suggestive lilt to the end. His little nicknames should probably make you bristle - a jab at your put-together veneer. But instead, his words make your stomach flip, butterflies taking flight.

You frown, “I didn’t ask for anything else.”

“I was thinking along the lines of dinner.” Klaue clarifies, before his voice lowers conspiratorially, “I do I love eating out.”

His tongue pinches between his teeth as he smirks, the look hungry. Amused with himself, how he flusters you so easily.

“I’m, um-” It’s difficult to find words, to tear your eyes away from his mouth. Even harder still, not to read into his words - to imagine hands pushing up the hem of your pencil skirt.

Wondering if he’d sink to his knees for you, right now.

What that hair would feel like, as your fingers wrapped in the curls and tugged. If you’d find out just how sweet his tongue is - even with security waiting right outside the door, ready and waiting to escort him out.

You think he would. His devil-may-care attitude has gotten him further than most, this would be nothing. It’s almost… thrilling.

Finding your voice, you finish lamely, “-I have another meeting, after this.”

He’s undeterred, moving closer. Stalking almost, two smooth steps with rolling shoulders, fingers touching down on your desk, framing your hips.

It had your mind wandering again, resisting the urge to arch into him, to close that small bit of space between you.

“Drinks then?” The gold in his teeth glint off the low lamp light as he grins. His voice lowering again, smooth as silk, “Or we could just cut to the chase, and go back to mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his boldness. Always circling with looks and teasing words, the slightest of touches, never a direct offer like this.

And god, it was tempting.

But the push-and-pull had always been a game you both played - you were not one to start agreeing so easily now.

“Inappropriate,” you murmur, but all he does is laugh.

His arms move then - spreading out wide.

Stepping back as he grins.

“Oh, princess. Are you going to tell daddy what a bad man I am?,” He challenges, “Go on then, call your dogs on me.”

Your lips are parting, his words doing something to you. A warmth curling in your stomach - stealing your words and your sharp tongue.

His look is knowing, “I thought so.”

The smug tone to his words being you back. Giving him your own look - annoyed and amused and oh so very curious.

A beat, before you ask, “Which bar?”

“The Andromeda.” The look in his eyes soften, along with his smile, “No business darling, just pleasure.”

You knew the place. It was new, trendy. Expensive, and you wonder if he’s trying to impress you, or if it was a genuine attempt to take you somewhere nice.

It was also popular with a number of your clients.

You consider him for a long moment. Before you surprise yourself, the words sliding from your tongue, “How about Neon Blue? 9pm. Less prying eyes.”

“Excellent,” Klaue smiles, and it’s a little different than others he’s given you. Missing a sardonic edge - almost as if he really is pleased.

“It’s a date, princess.”

You don’t know why you spend so much time primping. Still unable to believe that you had spoken up, agreed to meet with him.

But part of you knows why.

You’re curious.

Wanting to know what he’s like. To give into the silver-tongued compliments. See if the innuendos and insinuations are as accurate as he’s hinted at.

Because there’s no illusions to your meeting. An intent to his invitation, a clear resolution to the evening.

He’s a mercenary, an arms dealer.

God knows what else.

But tonight, you don’t really care about that. You’ve been circling each other for months, and there’s something freeing, knowing what he wants.

No strings attached. Just one night.

It was a win-win. Either you had a good time, and your fingers were crossed that it would be good - or if it went poorly, at least you’d stop imagining him late at night, when you were alone.

Wondering, replaying certain phrases. The looks he gives you, the ones you give in return. Gasping into your pillow, eyes screwed shut as you imagined your fingers were thicker. Longer.

You get to the nightclub early, sneaking out to take a cab instead of letting one of the drivers take you.

Thinking you’d scope the place out, find a nice little corner. A place to watch and see if he’ll really show up.

When you get inside, it’s already full. Rows of deep leather booths and glossy tables on one side. The light turned down low, a hazy blue. White neon script flashing with the music - some club tune you don’t recognize.

Furtively glancing around as you move deeper. Scanning the crowd until you land on a pair as bright as the namesake.

He’s already here. Already waiting.

A broad hand cupping his chin, just watching. A lazy grin, a crook of two fingers when you start to move his way.

Stepping out of the dark corner booth, letting you shrug off your fuzzy winter coat. Folding it in the corner as you slide in, and he fits himself in right next to you.

A waitress stops by a few minutes later. Dropping off a short glass with elaborate cuttings, filled with an amber liquid. A taller one - pretty and garnished with a bright red cherry, a little umbrella.

She beams at him as he slips her some extra cash, a wink. You try not to think about why your stomach flips, as he passes you the glass.

“How did you know what I drink?” You ask, peering down, into it. An exact replica of your usual, the same fruity tang when you take a sip.

His eyes are dark, watching. Another one of those smiles, the glint of his gold teeth, “I make it my business to know everything.”

Enigmatic. Infuriating.

Part of you should be concerned that he knew - but you knew how this world worked. How knowing and secrets were collected, used.

Instead, it has you interested. That he took the time to find this out about you, to order it in advance for your arrival.

“Well,” You allow, fingers tracing them stem, "I appreciate it."

He looks pleased, his eyes swooping over you, lingering, “You look beautiful. I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up.”

Your eyebrow arches, a low weight starting to warm in your belly, “Why is that?”

“You work too hard.” He comments idly, “Did you eat before you came here?”

It feels like a genuine question, his words holding none of the humor or sardonic edge that usually laces it. But it’s the first part that captures your attention, as you decidedly ignore the second.

“I didn’t know you were privy to my work schedule.” Your elbow presses into the glossy table top, your palm propping up your chin.

Angling yourself to look at him. Watching as he takes a drink from his own glass - the way his head tips back, the flex of his neck as he swallows.

All that skin, disappearing down to the buttons popped on his white dress shirt. The peek of hair and dark shadow of his tattoo - the tie discarded sometime between before and now.

You wonder what it looks like, the ink that swirls across his chest. You’ve only gotten glimpses of it. Wondering where else those tattoos spread.

Eyes flicking away when his hand drops, not wanting to be caught staring. Still catching the peek of his tongue as it swipes over his lip. A low hum, before he answers - a tilt of the glass in your direction.

“You answer my emails in the middle of the night.”

It’s not the answer you’re expecting. It throws you off balance, as you scramble for a response, “You travel constantly. How would you know what time it is here?”

The curl of his smile is knowing. Ignoring your question like you had his, as he copies your pose. Fingers stroking the edge of his beard.

“It’s always made me wonder, princess. Would you say it’s your work ethic?” He muses, before he leans closer, his voice dropping, “Or have I just made that much of an impression?”

You scoff, eyes rolling away. Focusing on your drink instead, head dipping to catch the straw - take a long sip.

“Why did you ask me to meet you then, if you know how busy I am?”

He sighs, then. Fingers drumming on the tabletop. A ruse, as his lips part - tongue brushing over teeth.

“Thought you could use some good stress relief.”

You scoff, “Is that right?”

An eyebrow cocks - that smile back,“You’re the one up at 4am, sweetheart. You tell me.”

Your eyes lock for a long moment. Flustered by the attention, not quite sure how to play this game.

His eyes drop to your mouth.

You muster up an answer, trying to match his cryptic answers, “I give you the same attention I give everyone else.”

“Is that right?” Klaue’s head cocks, a shift as his spread thigh brushes yours.

Too close, in this cramped booth. It has you distracted, watching the roll of his shoulder as his arms slings along the back of the booth.

“Who did you meet with after me, then?” He asks conversationally, as you suck the last of your drink through your straw, “Who else is so worthy of your time?”

Your eyes flick towards him, considering your answer, “I thought you said this was pleasure, not business.”

“I find that they have a tendency to mix,” His drink swirls in his glass, his eyes on yours as he tastes a long swallow. Your own drawn down to his mouth as his tongue peeks out to pass across his lower lip.

“Though, if it’s pleasure you want…”

You cut him off, with a little cock of your head. Fishing out a name just to see what he would say. A way to tease him back, even if it’s small.

“What if I said it was with Tony Stark?”

The grin on his face turns sharp, his eyes narrowing - calculating. A slight edge to his voice when he answers, “I didn’t know you did business with Stark.”

With Stark. With his shiny cars, and tailored suits and well-known playboy reputation.

“Are you jealous?” You ask, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“No.” Klaue scoffs - though he’s watching you.

He’s thinking about it, as his eyes jump between yours. Down to your mouth. Down, even further.

Amending his answer, with his gaze fixed on where one of your thighs crosses over the other - the expanse of skin where the short fabric pulls.

“Only if you let him taste you before I got the chance.”

They rise then, his look heated. Your own matching his, as he leans even more into your space.

Daring you to close that little gap between you. It would be so easy, to take what you know you both want. To tip your mouth up to his, to finally find out what it feels like.

But - you can’t deny it. That you want him to come to you.

So instead, your fingers dip inside the rim of your glass. Fishing out the cherry - letting him watch the way your lips curve around the plump fruit. Before you tug on the stem, a soft moan at the sweet taste.

His exhale is rough, a low noise in his throat as he leans forward. A wide hand cupping your jaw, the drag of his thumb across your lower lip, left glossy from the cherry.

Before your eyes flutter closed, and his mouth presses hungrily against yours.

You groan into the kiss, the brush of his tongue as you let him in. Months of tension finally snapping, as a spark ignite in your belly. Fingers reaching for him, grasping at a sleeve, anything you can reach.

Klaue leans into you, his hand tilting your jaw up to him. Pulling back the smallest bit so he can see how your eye lashes flutter, a grin as his other hand curls around your waist, pulling you closer.

Your hand on his sleeve sliding to brace against his broad chest.

Only breaking to suck in a breath, lips kiss-swollen as you glance up at him from under your eyelashes.

To where he grins with half-lidded eyes of his own - the bright flash of something cherry-red between white teeth, before he bites down.

Stolen right from your mouth, with a hot swirl of his tongue.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your words coming out soft and breathy, “I wanted that.”

He laughs, a rough sound that makes goosebump raise on your skin - making you want to kiss him again. Words low and slow and he leans in.

“I will get you more.”

His lips brush yours.

“I’ll give you anything you want.”

Kissing you again, tasting of whiskey and candy-sweet cherry.

Crowding you towards the back of the booth, in the dim corner. A hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you close - the other bracing against the edge of the table.

Your own wandering, brushing over a thigh, across his chest. Finding the deep cut of his open shirt, fingers slipping over ink and grey-peppered whorls of hair.

He licks into your mouth and you sigh - fully giving into him now. Wanting to feel his press of his bare fingers against your skin. Wanting to trace every inch of his tattoos - find out just where they go when they disappear under his shirt.

A brush then, of fingers. His grip loosening on the table, tracing a pattern against your knee. Curling against your thigh, his thumb sweeping across sensitive skin as your legs seem to nudge wider on their own.

His groan is filthy, deep and rasping. A slow inch of a fingertip just a little higher, towards where you’re aching and molten.

It’s dark, in this corner. The lights dimming as the evening goes on. You think you’d let him, in this moment. Let him touch you the way he’s thinking, with that teasing sweep of his fingers. A mutual testing of the water.

A dark look that passes across his face, when the kiss breaks. The tilt of his head, as he considers you - his fingers still firmly fixed in place.

Your lips part, but a voice interrupts you.

A man, calling out his name with a crisp familiarity. Klaue’s head turning, a short greeting barked out.

An impatient twitch of his fingers, the chill of his rings pressing against your thigh.

Against his will, he is pulled in. Unwilling to make a scene in such a public place, not with you in tow. It’d be different if it was in his office - over the phone. The man never would have stood a chance, then.

You wait, one minute sliding into the next. His thumb resumes its sweeping after one more, slowly inching upward.

Just brushing where you need it, where your heartbeat thuds.

It’s then, that you get another idea.

Your coat tucked across your lap, as if you’re cold. Not unusual, with the weather outside - all whipping, icy winds through the tall glass skyscrapers.

One more minute before your hand is slipping beneath. The nudge of your thighs as they widen just a little more. The press of your fingers as they map his.

Bringing him to bridge that final gap, a stifled moan when you push his palm to cup the heat of your cunt.

His hand freezes, for the briefest second. All four fingers curving against you, brushing against that pretty fabric, the heel of his hand nudging against the spot that seems to throb.

Just catching a sharp inhale of breath, a tightness in his shoulders. Before his fingers twitch - the slightest pull back so the tip of the middle strokes across your clothed slit.

Pressing against the fabric that you know he can feel is damp. The twitch of the others as they brush that overlap of warm skin and the cut of the elastic.

Each movement achingly slow, winding you up further. A fingernail catching under the edge of your panties, your own fingers gripping his arm in anticipation.

Almost dripping at the thought of his fingers sinking into you, right here. For him to feel how wet he’s made you, how easily it would be to fill you.

Thrilled with his split attention, knowing it’s more on you than the man’s questions, with the constant press and circle of his fingertips.

It has your eyes - your thoughts - drifting, as his touch continue. The lazy sweeping press against the soaked fabric. Swirling in soft circles as you feel yourself clench.

Unable to help the shift of your hips into his hand. Increasing the pressure, eyes unseeing as you lean into the pleasure, the secrecy. Both of them fueling the fire that roars in your belly.

The fingers pause for the briefest second. Pulling back - before landing a soft tap right against your cunt.

It makes you jerk - thighs pressing together as a spark arcs up your spine. Trapping him against you as your eyes flash to his.

Catching the curl of a smile and a heated look from the corner of his eye.

You think you can read it. The expression on his face.

“Behave.”

Or, perhaps it’s - “Eyes on Me.”

Yes, that seems more likely. Wanting your focus fully on him, taking what you had asked for.

So, you lean into it. Into him, that heavy bulk of a thick arm. The muscles flexing as you wraps yourself around it, with each press of his fingers.

The one that used to have tattoos - now replaced with dark seams that travel and split down his forearm.

A story that you haven’t been told before, but had heard whispers. Clinging to him like a second skin.

Leaving you to wonder, as your chest presses against him. The fingers of your other hand tracing over the deep crease in his trousers, where hip meets thigh.

Muscles tense under your fingertips.

The conversation now wraps up quickly. Funny how that is, as you stroke a path that slowly moves inward.

Those bright, hungry eyes back on yours the second the man turns.

Your low sigh, as your chin presses into his shoulder, “Thank god. I thought he’d never leave.”

At that, he smiles. White and gold and sharp, his eyes sweeping down to where you press against him.

“I was hoping he’d stay longer.” Klaue confesses, his voice low. Going lower - rougher - as he adds, “Wanted to see if I could make you come, right in front of him.”

His words catch in your chest, as heat burns in your face. The images flashing in your mind as his fingers twitch against the tight nub of your clit. Your thighs clenching around him as you think about it - him bringing you to the edge right there, and then crashing over.

“Is that right?” You try to match his tone - daring him, “Is that all you wanted to see?”

His grin sharpens, and his fingers leave you. Pulling up, before passing over his mouth in contemplation. As he inhales the scent of you, after.

“No. Not just that. And not here,” Klaue rasps, “Come with me.”

You let him take your hand as he slides from the booth. Hauling you up easily, as your coat tucks under your arm. Guiding you in front of him, as he ushers you towards the dark hallways in the back.

The thudding reverb of the music matching the one between your thighs. The press of him, hard and curving, against your ass every time you have to wait - pausing for people getting out of their booths.

The fingers on your hip pinching, squeezing. Letting him move in front as a bouncer steps aside with a nod, letting you both past.

A hand closing around your wrist again - a tug as you’re pulled into the first open room.

It’s dim as you enter - mood lighting bathing the room in light blue neon. An old disco ball turns, refracting the light in a bright glitter across the room. The back wall looking out into the city through a tinted window - framing the rounded booth beneath, the table set close in front of it.

The rest of the room blurring as the door snaps shut behind you. His hand splaying against the wall as he boxes you in - as you melt from the way he surrounds you.

A slow lean forward, as your hands brace against his chest, watching as your eyes drop to his mouth. Your own sliding shut after, as he closes the gap. Stepping into you, as his teeth nip at your bottom lip.

The slightest pinch, before he’s kissing you. Devouring you - so much more than before, at the table. Broad hands that cup your face, holding it in place. A palm that smoothes down your neck - wide enough to span the length, a thumb that rests in the hollow of your throat.

Your own hands finding thick shoulders - your coat dropping to the floor as his hips roll against yours. Teeth and tongue as the hard length of him digs into the curve of your hip, your breathing barely audible over the muted beats outside.

Hands wander again, palming your ass to press you flush against him. You own snaking down to cup him, feeling where he strains.

Klaue groans into your mouth. Pulling away with an effort, his eyes dark as you both stumble towards that rounded booth.

You wonder if he’s going to cage you in again - lay you down on the leather cushion as he stands between your thighs.

Instead, his hands are on your hips. Lifting you into the sleek top to sit. Your hands splaying across the glass as he slides into the booth proper. Hands catching under your thighs - a gentle push to spin you until your knees press into his ribs.

His eyes drag over your form, lingering where your breasts are near-level with his face - his tongue peeking out over his lower lip. Wide hands coming to trace the curve of your hips, fingertips that stroke the bare skin of your thighs.

“Didn’t know you were so filthy,” Klaue rasps, toying with the hem of your dress. The pretty fabric trapped between fingers that could tear it - you - to shreds.

Your teeth sinking into your lip as you bite back your smile. Trying to make it not seem too obvious when you shift into his touch - wanting more, as you tease back.

“I thought you knew everything.”

His laugh is rough and low - you don’t even notice the slow rucking up of your skirt, how the fabric bunches in his grip.

“I suppose not.” Klaue allows, “I also don’t know how you sound when you come.”

The wrist at your hips twists, knuckles brushing against your mound. That grin again, as a thumb strokes the silky fabric of your panties - his voice pitching low.

“But I think I’m going to find out.”

You’re nodding - eager to have his hands on you again. In this darkened room it feel easier to lean into it, into him. Into how much you really want this.

“Please.” You breathe as his head tips - his teeth scraping against your jaw. Moving towards your ear, goosebumps prickling across your skin.

His hand catches yours, dragging it down. To where his fingers tease and trace the elastic waistband.

“Hold this for me.” Klaue husks, and you’re taking what he offers without question.

The balled-up fabric of your dress. How it bunches up around your waist now, wrinkling in your tight grip. Putting yourself on display.

It feels filthy - holding it up, as he leans back in the booth to look. Fingers dragging down until they’re pressing against sticky, damp fabric.

Humming with you as you whine at his touch, feather-light as he traces you. Finding that spot like before, one that has your other hand reaching forward - curling around the back of his neck for balance. Fingers sliding over the velvet-short undercut, the strong curve where shoulder meets neck.

Pressing circles against your clit - the sensation damped by the thin layer, but the fact that it’s him, that he’s already there and touching you in a way that feels so intimately familiar - it’s an accelerant.

Your teeth clenched as you whine, the sound pitiful. Unable to escape the way he watches each and every expression. You try to match him, keep yours on those bright blue eyes, but you find your head tilting back - your eyes fluttering shut as your free hand fists in the fabric of his shirt.

A twisting and winding in your belly. Little unconscious jerks of your hips, matching the pace of his fingers. Until they’re curling - hooking around the gusset. Tugging it to the side, fingers now sliding over slick skin.

You groan, and he grins. A tug at shirt pulls him closer, until his lips are brushing against yours again. Not quite a kiss - hovering, like his fingers are.

Nudging the tip of one against your entrance. A tease, as a thumb swipes over your clit.

“So wet, princess.”

You can feel his lips move against yours. As he sinks into the knuckle, as you feel yourself clench around him. His teeth bared at the sound of your choked moan - withdrawing, only to push deeper with his next thrust.

Giving you something to tighten around, as the heel of his hand presses against your clit. Your arousal slicking up his palm as he starts a slow pace, a second teasing at your entrance before there’s the sweet stretch as he works it inside. Curling and dragging the pads of his fingertips against a spot that sends up sparks.

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears, as you tug again. Feeling the smile before his mouth presses against yours - letting yourself arch into him now. Chasing the slick plunge of his fingers, feeling the metallic chill of those thick rings when he presses deep.

He deepens the kiss when you gasp, when he feels the way you’ve started to go tense in his arms. A messy sweep of his tongue, drawing back to watch the pretty pinch of your brows.

“You’ve thought about this.” Klaue husks, his head tilting. Honeyed words mixing with the sticky, curling pump of his fingers - his expression knowing, “Thought about my tongue earlier, weren’t you? I could see it on your face.”

You think back to then - when he was in your office. That moment when you thought about him on his knees, that mouth of his between your thighs.

It’s almost too much. A tremor in your legs, as they try to close around him, but his hand is too broad, too strong.

He laughs then - each word enunciated, even to your hazy mind, “Tell me you want my mouth more than my fingers.”

You’re close. Each press of his heel perfectly timed, dreaming about how sweet that silver tongue would feel instead.

“I want-” You can barely gasp, “Fuck, I want your mouth.”

His lips press against your cheek, another to your jaw. The scruff of his beard as he groans in your ear.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re going to last that long,” He mock-sighs, the words almost wistful. “You feel like you’re about to come all over my fingers.”

The tiny part of your brain that is still functioning mourns the loss of his mouth. The barest flicker of thought before your vision starts to go blurry, the neon lights turning into streaks.

But Klaue appears merciful, after all - a hand coming up to press against your stomach, pushing your back down to the tabletop as he leans forward.

The wet, warm drag of his tongue replacing the press of his heel. A low groan right into your pussy as the angle of his fingers change, all the better to drag the tips against the spot that makes your toes.

All you can manage is a weak warble of his name, almost a warning. The sounds stuck in your throat as the room grows even more dim, each breath cut short and sharp.

“Come for me.” He growls, his lips shining with you. His voice no-nonsense, one you’ve heard him use on the phone.

It tips you over. The thudding of the music slowing and becoming dull, as you clench around him. Your release slick on the fingers that continue to pound into you, as you cry out. Both hand gripping onto him, as his lips close around your clit.

Feeling the pulse of your orgasm against the press of his tongue, until you’re left limp and boneless on that glass table.

His mouth presses against you in a lewd kiss as his fingers slip free. A wet drag of his tongue from your hole to your clit, his eyes bright and piercing as you slowly push yourself up onto an elbow.

Still breathing hard, your dress still clutched so tightly in your fist. Still hauling the fabric up to your belly, near-bare beneath. Too far gone to think about doing anything other than hanging on.

Klaue breaks the silence first, as he leans back against the bench. Looking a little less put-together as a hand rakes through his curls, buttons popped on his shirt from the way you had yanked on the fabric.

“I told you I’d give you anything.” His eyes are dark from this angle, glinting in the low light, “What do you want?”

It’s a surprisingly unselfish question. Putting the reigns in your hands. You swallow for a second, as you let your eyes wander. Still trying to find your tongue.

“Don’t get shy on me now.” He grins, “We are far past that, darling.”

You can see where his thighs spread wide, under the table. The long and hard curve of his cock, straining against the dark blue fabric of his trousers. Stiff from your mouth and your cunt and the way you gushed on his tongue.

The dress drops, so you can reach beneath. A lift of your hips as you peel your panties from your legs, holding them out between you like an offering.

His fingers brush yours as he takes them.

“Good girl.” Klaue husks, tucking them into his pocket. Offering a hand that you take, as he tugs you towards the edge of the table, and then into his lap.

You start to straddle him, but his hands find your hips instead. A careful shuffle as he flips you around, a gentle nudge forward that has you hovering, elbows resting on the table.

Giving him enough room to work open his belt. To close slick fingers around his heavy cock, groaning at the contact.

His other hand pushing your dress up again. Baring you fully, the fabric bunching up at your waist.

Pumping himself as he sees where you glisten, angling himself to press the blunt head against your slit.

You whine as he slides himself against you. Just pressing against your greedy hole before drawing back, slicking a fist over the tip.

“You drive me fucking crazy. You know that, darling?” He growls, as if you were the one teasing him. As you’re the one stopping him from taking you, from burying himself in the tight channel of your cunt.

“Ulysses, please-” You whine, and he laughs at that - his hand going still.

“Oh, it’s Ulysses, now?” There’s a grin in his voice that you can hear, amused “Not just Klaue?”

Teeth sink into your lip, as you try to rock back against him. As his thighs press against your knees, holding you firmly in place.

“Say it again, princess, and I’ll fuck you.” He rasps, his fingers sinking into the curve of your ass, “Just like you want me to. Come on.”

You do. For him, you do - the first syllable barely past your lips before he’s lining himself up, and then pulling you down to meet him.

The rest of his name strings out - breaking at the end on a high moan as you impale yourself on his cock, your back arching as he fills you.

It feels like he’s in your throat, a hand flattening unconsciously against your belly as if you could feel him there, inside you.

His answering groan is filthy in your ear, a guttural grunt as you rock yourself on his lap. Broad hands gripping your hips as he coaxes you back and forth, your own gripping onto the edge of the table for leverage.

The sound of skin slapping fills the air, his breath warm against your neck. A thought flickering - a realization that you could have had this for weeks now. This morning even - the briefest vision of yourself, bent over your own desk.

A hard thrust has you moaning his name, as your feet slide against the floor - trying to find purchase. Trying to keep up the pace, as you ride him.

A plea in the way your lips forms around the letters, as a thick arm hooks around your waist. Tugging you back, pushing him flush and deep as your back presses against his barrel chest.

His hand sliding up, between the valley of your breasts. A broad palm wrapping carefully around your throat like a necklace, the pressure holding you against him. As his beard scrapes against your jaw, his voice low and silky in your ear.

“You still begging for more, even though my fingers still taste like you?” He husks, as his right hand raises.

Fingers pressing against your lower lip, until they’re parting for him. Scraping past teeth, until you’re closing around him. Sucking.

Tasting yourself, like he said.

A pleased tone to his words, as he sighs, “Greedy girl. What am I going to do with you?”

Sliding his fingers from you then - spit stringing between glossy fingers. Dropping down to tap against your clit, the tips slipping against slick skin.

Then circling slowly, as his feet plant on the floor. Using the leverage to thrust up into you - the angle dragging his cock against your walls.

A moan bursting from your chest, your hips trying to flex into his touch. But he holds you firm. Makes you take what he gives you.

The pressure of his fingers increasing, a tingling in your guts that drops low and spreads. Your nails sinking into his arm - across those tattoos, feeling the muscles tense under your grasp - but he leans into it, as your breathing turns sharp.

“Klaue.” You bite out, between panting breaths, “Ulysses, please let me-”

Half-expecting him to slow. Or stop, his laugh ringing out - just to fuck with you.

Instead, his nose drags against the column of your neck. The thumb resting on your skin twitching, where he can feel your heart hammering beneath. A groan, as his lips ghost against the hollow under your ear.

A shiver running through you, at the tender contact. His voice coming after, pitched low.

Almost a growl.

“Oh, I’ll let you come again.” He tells you, “And this time, you are going to thank me.”

The words hang. Intent to recieve what you had so denied him before. The flood of relief blocked by an urge to protest, just because it’s him, and that’s what you do.

“Understood?” Klaue presses.

You don’t know if you have a choice. Everything drawing up tight as you squirm in his embrace. The press of his fingers unrelenting. Each one winding, winding, winding.

“Oh, fuck-”

Not even aware of the words as they slide from your lips. Concentrating too much on way he’s about to make you come, with steady pound of his cock, the wet swipe of his fingers.

Your body stringing tight, the words rushed, “Thank you, thank you-”

Toes curling, as it crashes into you. Your head tipping back as you moan, pressing into his shoulder.

“Such a good girl. See how easy that was?” He coos, as his hips still. Feeling how you pulse around him, his fingers still drawing the sensations out, “That’s it, cream on my fucking cock, princess.”

It’s all muted, as your head spins. As your vision goes hazy, your limbs limp and heavy.

You haven’t come that hard in a long time. Had forgotten how good it feels to have a cock nudged deep inside you, even as he tips you towards overestimation.

Each sound you make is a little gasp. Moving with him as he nudges you forward, your elbows pressing against the tabletop.

As he manages to stand behind you - a hand planting on the glass next to your hip. The other pressing down against the small of your back to hold you in place.

“Christ, you’re pretty when you come.” He groans, with a thrust of his hips, “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this.”

Starting as a slow and lazy as you feel, working his way up as his hips snap against yours, his heavy sack kissing against your clit again and again.

Somewhere in your mind you think about answering him - an admission that you’ve thought about it, too. That there’s been nights where you stretched yourself out on your own fingers, wishing they were his.

But he fills the silence for you. With low gasps and grunts that punctuate the intoxication drag of his cock.

“How you’re always running that pretty mouth of yours. Bossing me around in your office like the little spoiled princess that you are.”

You moan, rocking back to meet the grind of his hips, your cheek pressing against the cool glass. Too far gone in the haze of bliss and the continual pounding of his cock to form words, your answers coming in contented moan.

“But listen to how sweet you are now.” His voice goes honey-smooth, as he coos, “Just needed my thick cock, is that it?”

A whine rips through your throat, a broken fracture of his name woven in. He hums in amusement, unable to stop the filth that slips from his mouth. Goaded by the way you seem to grow slicker with his voice, the way you’re starting to clench down hard around him.

“Christ, if we were there now. I’d make you scream, darling.” The words are growled out, possessive. His body curving over yours, hands molding against your flesh as his lips press against your cheek. Those wild curls tickling your ear, each breath a ragged groan.

“Let those guard dogs of yours hear how you sound getting fucked like a man like me.”

The new angle of his cock has you seeing stars. His cock slick as he ruts into you, stroking along your inner walls. Bringing you closer as the head bumps against that spongey inner spot - you think you’re about to come again and he’s not even touching you, like before.

“Please-” You whimper, your fingertips making marks against the glass. A tight winding in your belly, your eyes closing.

Still able to see the glitter of those neon light as they slowly spin, reflecting off your skin.

But all you can feel is him.

It eclipses everything else, the spark that starts a flame - catching you off guard as it rips through you. A muffled half-laugh that you dimly register comes from him, as your promised shout is drowned out by the club beats.

A tight pulsing, as your thighs press together. Klaue’s praise gritted out in your ear as his thrusts turn sloppy - pleased and possessive and winding throughout the flicker of thought that still remains in your head.

“Fuck. Look at you, coming again.”

“That’s my good girl-”

And all too soon he’s pulling from you - leaving you empty. A split second as he yanks the panties from his pocket, wrapping it around his cock as he spills messily into the gusset.

His chest pressed against your back, as he stains the fabric, each pulse of his cock leaving him leaking into the gift you gave him. Grinding himself against the spot that’s still wet from your cunt.

That arm wraps around you again, as he sits back. Tugging you onto his lap, as your head tips against his shoulder, his hand splaying across your belly. A deep breath of contentment that matched you own, and you’re both brought back down.

An eyebrow quirking when you give him a look - your underwear still curled in his free hand. A smile, then - glinting, again.

“Didn’t think you wanted me dripping out of you.” It’s almost gentlemanly, as he shifts beneath you. His cock still pressing against the bare curve of your ass, his trousers pooled around his thighs - before he amends, “Not here, anyways.”

You don’t tell him, but you wouldn’t have minded. A little shiver at the thought of how it would have felt, to feel him - pressing tight against you, the pulse of his cock as he emptied himself into you.

“Not here?” You turn, where he’s watching - fingers tracing a pattern against your dress, “Is that an invitation?”

He growls, “God, yes.”

You can feel him twitch against your ass, still flushed and heavy.

“This was just a taste, love. I think our night is just beginning.” He coos, “Besides… you still need to have your dinner.

Klaue’s grin turns dark, as his fingers slowly start to drift down, settling between your thighs.

“And I haven’t had my dessert.”

I have been chipping away at this since December - if you made it this far, thank you so much! 🥺💖 hope you liked this!

[stargirlfics]

not over klaue and ball worship 🫣

when you want to spoil him (usually as a thank you for an especially nice present) you have him sit on the couch with his legs spread wide. You coo at him about how big he his, how heavy his balls are, and how hard it must be to carry all that around all day. And when you’re on your knees and popping each one in your mouth, he leans his head back and starts groaning 🫠

That’s so real like let me carry some of that weight for you, king 🤲🏾

Love this as an act of spoiling Klaue, treating him a little, the response you get from him is the gift that keeps on giving! I mean getting to watch him spread his legs out, always able to make whatever he’s sitting on look like his personal throne by the way he carries himself and lounges…talk about always wanting to hop in his lap

Like why am I already salivating thinking about watching him get so hard, hanging nice and heavy in front of you to do with as you please

He would love the compliments too, all your sultry sounding comments about how he’s just so big your hands are already full with him and how you can’t wait to taste him as you press your lips to his balls knowing you’ve had him breathing hot and heavy from the jump

He’s goddamn flattered and won’t apologize for the ego boost he’ll walk around with the rest of the day thanks to you!

The way his sack tightens when you pop them into your mouth and gently suck, I just have a feeling he would love the sight alone and helppp the groans yes you’re righttt, throwing his head back, his hips rocking into your touch, seeking the swipe of your tongue over his skin, yeah the need for this is so great bestie

this pic of him actually brings me to my knees like i know we see the spread! 🥵😵‍💫🤧

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

"Bringin' Home the Rain" - Part One - Masterlist

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Chapters: 5 Word count: 25.4K (Complete!) Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're no stranger to taking risks, in fact you prefer the unknown, however when you happen to cross paths with a certain black market arms dealer you find it uncharacteristically difficult to find your balance. (aka "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine.")

Warnings: Explicit Rating, Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Minor Injuries, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Masturbation, Smut, Smutty Smut, The Smutty Kind of Smut, Smut With Accidental Feelings, PWP, But Also A Bit of Plot, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Teasing, Oral (M! Receiving), Reference to Predator/Prey, Vaginal Fingering, Soft Dom, Hair pulling, Begging, Finger Sucking, Spanking, Nipple Play, Oral (F! Receiving), Cock Warming, Mild Size Kink, Daddy Kink (Chapter 5), Unprotected PIV, Rough Sex, Creampie, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Needy Dom, Aftercare

A/N: Well, here I am with my first foray in the fanfic writing in almost two decades!

In my mind this is set somewhere between "Avengers" and "Age of Ultron". I wanted to give myself somewhere to go since I do have plans beyond this, and while this part can still function as a standalone, I'm currently working on a part two in what is now a series (which I have mostly figured out)! More updates on that as I chip away, but I'm hoping to be able to post Chapter One in the next few weeks!

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy. 😊

[Masterlist - Part Two - Salvation is a Deep Dark Well] ✨ [AO3 Link]

Title is from the song "Bringin' Home the Rain" by The Builders and and Butchers

Chapter One - "Storm" - 2.8K

Chapter Two - "Tides" - 2.8K

Chapter Three - "Demons" - 5.9K

Chapter Four - "Flame" - 5.1K

Chapter Five - "Foundations" - 8.8K

[tarrenterror25]

(tho)ugh(ts) no one asked for but my mind has no mouth and must scream

Alfred Pennyworth and Ulysses Klaue doing Shibari/Kinbaku Word Count: 1.3K Rating: E 18+

Tags: images and mention of the following: shibari, bondage, restraints, pain play, (bd)(sm) themes, light degradation, F!Reader, smut, aftercare

Some helpful info before we continue (I am by no mean an expert in this field): - Shibari is the art of rope tying and is about the aesthetic and form of the person being tied and Kinbaku takes it in a more sen(s/x)ual direction.

Here is a neat article for some info and context on the art! Kinbaku @ Museum of Sex There’s a short interview with Hajime Kinoko, a rope artist, and he gives some insight into the emotional depth of the art. Here’s another that touches on why people do shibari: What Is Shibari - Women’s Health

Years ago, I was lucky enough to see a shibari/kinbaku performance/demonstration and it really is truly a beautiful art!

Alfred and Klaue are like opposite sides of the same coin so that’s why this has both! Don’t ask what brought these on cause I’m not even sure myself.

!!! Mind the tags !!!

May contain triggering content

Last chance

Alfred Pennyworth

Alfred loves when you allow him to play to his more dominant side, but he is still soft with you. He loves the art and how tying you up nice and pretty brings you closer to each other. The trust you place in him to never go past your limits, but the encouragement you give him to test your limits is very attractive to him and a turn on.

He is big on you playing just as much a part in this as him. He loves communicating with you about the color of the rope you want or what kind of ties you want to try.

Alfred favors symmetry.

He likes to do intricate knots/ties and loves to appreciate how they shape you. He understands that some of them might be uncomfortable so again, big on communicating with you.

“How’s this, darling?” “Let me know if it’s too much.”

He’s not one for the suspended looks, much preferring you in positions that require you to be lying down or on your knees. Some ties he favors are the mermaid tail, loop chain stockings, arm binder, peach shorts, and he loves weaving designs like flowers/hearts/stars whenever he can.

For some of the more intricate work, he’ll have to put on his glasses. It’s a treat to watch his hands nimbly weave the rope. This time will be used to casually chat about your day or joke around. Alfred makes sure it is a fun and lighthearted experience for the both of you.

Alfred definitely appreciates the way you look all tied up, he loves to run his hands over your body feeling where the rope squishes out your flesh. He’s constantly praising you throughout the process.

“You look so lovely like this, darling.” “You’re doing so well for me.” “Look at you, tied up beautifully for me, like the gift you are.”

Alfred isn’t really one for fucking you this way, he really likes you to be a more active participant; he loves feeling your hands on him too much. If you insist then he’ll rearrange the ties so they are more suitable. The ties while he takes you serve more for fashion over function so they won’t bind you or restrict movement, they just look pretty.

But they are good for grabbing onto! Whether he’s taking you from behind or if you’re on top, he grabs the rope wrapped around your waist/hips/ass and uses it as leverage to fuck you deeper.

Alfred’s safe word for you to use is “subsisto”, latin for “stop” or “halt”.

After a session or if you use the safe word, Alfred will carefully remove your bindings. A bath is in order and he’ll take this time to assess your body as he’s very nervous about the possibility of visible harm done to you. He keeps a first aid kit for you guys handy with salves that he massages into your skin where the ropes were.

Alfred is very susceptible to dom-drop. You’ll need to give him proper aftercare as well! Feedback versus praise is the one that makes him feel much better since it sounds more sincere. Your honesty with him will comfort him.

“I really liked when you...” “Maybe next time we try __ instead?”

Let him take care of you. Thank him for his efforts during aftercare with affirmations that you’re okay and he’ll feel much better.

“Thank you.” “I appreciate when you...” “I’m doing much better now, thank you.”

Physical affection is also a must for Alfred; hugging, holding, snuggling, cuddling him will help come back down out of his head. Doing an activity together afterwards helps him shift back to reality.

Ulysses Klaue

This process is definitely a power play for the two of you to emphasize your submissive side and his dominant side. Where one might expect him to be harsh, he’s very passionate about the process.

Klaue makes most of the decisions, but runs them by you first. You can make your suggestions as you see fit and he’ll always consider them in practice. Your words do not fall on deaf ears!

“I’ll tie it differently then.” “We can try something else instead.” “What about this way?”

Klaue loves asymmetry.

He prefers the form and shape your body takes on over the pattern of the rope. He definitely loves the purpose and function of the ties versus the fashion of them. This means he loves suspending you, loves to get a full view of your body spinning for him. There’s something beautiful about you allowing yourself to be at his mercy. Seeing your legs tucked awkwardly and arms bound, like he’s captured you, stopped you in time right in the midst of pleasure.

“You look so fucking beautiful.” “You’ve no idea how hard it is to keep going when you look like this.”

Some of his favorite ties are chest harness ties, frog ties, waist harness with cuffs, Hojojutsu Capture, and face ties.

The positions he’ll have you in are uncomfortable, but he’ll never do more than he know you can take. It’s also arousing to watch him work at these heavy duty ties, his muscles flexing when he pulls on the rope to suspend you. It’s freeing being in mid-air in such a comprising position where most people, when they’re exposed this way or hanging mid-air, have a tendency to hide.

Klaue is into pain play.

There are no surprises, of course, everything is planned out accordingly. You have complete say in what is used and to what degree. Klaue isn’t interested in the inflicting actual pain so much as he is interested in the dynamic of it. He also likes watching the effect it has on your skin, how warm/red it gets from the sensations he’s inflicted.

Klaue loves to tease you and lightly degrade you while you’re suspended or tied down; feathery touches over your breasts and cunt, rolling your nipples between his fingers, and eventually slipping two fingers inside of you, pumping them until you’re squirting.

“Oh, look at you squirming, just begging for me to touch this pretty cunt.” “Silly girl, just can’t wait ‘til I’m inside you, can you?”

He doesn’t fuck you while you’re suspended. He’ll bring you down for that. Definitely loves to keep you restrained while he fucks you. He also loves to sit back in a chair with you bound on your knees going to town on his cock; his hand twisted in your hair guiding you to take him further into your throat.

Klaue’s safe word for you to us is “Cuttlefish”. Man’s got a sense of humor and it’s not going anywhere. (You cannot change my mind on this, it is locked IN.)

For aftercare, Klaue likes to remove the bindings carefully and slow, caressing your body as the ropes loosen and fall off your form. He kisses your body where the ropes were and kisses your lips affectionately to bring you back from the scene. He holds you and snuggles you until you’re feeling well enough. He brings you plenty of water and snacks. (We all saw that candy bowl on his desk in AOU and he’s got a belly, you can’t tell me he doesn’t keep snacks on hand. It is locked IN.)

Klaue is not always susceptible to dom-drop, but he will drop hard and become apprehensive at seeing visible marks on you. His mood will swing drastically and he’s gonna be angry, not at you, just in general he’s in a bad mood. He likes to be coddled and doted on to help bring him out of this; lay his head on your lap or on your chest while you run your hands through his hair and say some general support and affirmations.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” “You did really well. I enjoyed it.” “I love how you keep me safe during our sessions.”

He’s a big boy who seems mean, but he’s also a big baby.

~~~

I hope you guys enjoyed this blurb! 💕

This is all based on information I know and my understanding, again I do not claim to be an expert.

Here’s a link to a page that has the ties mentioned and more for visual reference! Shibari Academy

[deepdisireslonging]

Time Zone Reblog

Well Studied

Prompt: Is it okay to request Ulysses Klaue x male Wakandan reader? I was going to leave the ideas to you but maybe Klaue and the reader run into each other and Klaue tries to seduce the reader into working with him (smut possibly)

Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x Male Wakandan Reader (Y/N Y/L/N)

Warnings/Promises: antiquity smuggling (please don’t actually do this or encourage it), more plot than smut but there is a little

Word Count: 1740

Note: There is a huge intro to the smut, but I hope it makes it all that more powerful. Please let me know if I succeeded, or which points I need to work on. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always great ways to give feedback. They don’t even have to be full sentences; keyboard smashes and gifs are perfectly acceptable. Thanks to the anon for this request. I hope you all like it!

As the door opened at your back, you knew you were in trouble. The norm was for it to crash against the wall and send a few things in the workshop clattering to the floor. Maybe make a new recruit jump. Not this time. It opened slowly. Creaking.

“There he is,” you boss said. The voice doesn’t even make you turn around. He waits patiently while you place down the tools you had been using to clean the artifacts in front of you. Well, almost all of them.

“Don’t try anything.” The visitor’s accented voice pauses the scalpel sliding into the cover of your palm. “Your boss says you know some things about a place I’m very curious about.” He doesn’t flinch as you spin around. When you would re-meet him years later he would have greying hair, a prosthetic arm and a brand on his neck. But for now, his smirking face was new to you. Intriguing and dangerous. Quick. Enough so to catch your wrist before you could blink. He pressed his body against you and looked over your shoulder at the artifact you had been working on. “Tell me about it.”

You looked at your boss, who nodded wearily.

“Egyptian. First middle kingdom. Depicting the goddess Sekhmet and her more peaceful sister, Bast.”

“But what is it?” the man asked.

“A spear. I think. I’ve been trying to clean to gears. I’m almost done, but,” you took a deep breath, testing the waters. “I was interrupted.” The man released you and nodded for you to continue. You proceeded to do half an hour’s worth of work as delicately as you could in five. The man didn’t move any further away than a few centimeters. Then came the moment of truth. You found it hard to breath as you stepped away from the table and anyone you might accidentally impale. The locking mechanism clicked promisingly. Then, with a flick of your wrist, the barbs of the double-bladed spear shot out of the shaft. You immediately moved to study it under the lamp, but the man snatched it out of your hands. One of his goons, who you had missed seeing come in, grabbed your arms and held you fast.

The man eased his grip on the spear, handling it with experienced ease and delicacy. “Beautiful,” he muttered. He twisted his wrist and sheathed the blades. “Let’s talk.” The goon behind you led you to walk to your boss’s office. The man continued to observe the artifact before shaking his head. “I’ll take it.”

“What?” You glared at your boss. The deal had been to sell it to the British Museum, fulfilling your dream of working on something in such a prestigious place. You’d thought they had already agreed to buy it.

“And the archaeologist too.” You struggled against the goon, growling when he twisted your arm harshly behind your back. Your boss rushed out of his office quickly as the man flicked his wrist and pressed the ancient blade against your throat. “Calm down, Y/L/N. You’re still gonna get paid an’ everything. I need you as an expert.”

“In what?” you spat.

“In something you are familiar with. Wakanda.” The name froze your blood. The man took used your rigidness and grabbed your face. He placed the spear on the desk then tugged down your bottom lip. The glowing symbols made the man smile. “Welcome to the team, Y/L/N.” At his nod the goon let you go. They stepped to and through the door. The man stopped and motioned for you to follow him.

“Who are you?”

“The name’s Klaue. Ulysses Klaue.”

Keep reading

[cinebration]

Requests! *Closes in 3 Hours!*

Last call!

*Requests close Wednesday, December 2nd, 4:30pm PST (12:30am GMT)*

Rules

Send to my ask box! Please keep in mind that these requests are meant to be one-shot drabbles.

No smut. No pregnancy fics or A/B/O fics. No crossover fics. No actor x reader. Other AUs acceptable.

Identify the gender of the reader if you want something other than female.

Because I try to remain as true to character as possible, I reserve the right to reject or tweak requests to keep the characters in character.

Below are character lists divided by actors and fandoms.

By Actor

Henry Cavill: Napoleon Solo, August Walker, Captain Syverson, Geralt of Rivia, Sherlock Holmes

Ewan McGregor: Roman Sionis, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Camerlengo Patrick McKenna

Christian Bale: Bruce Wayne, John Preston, Patrick Bateman, Alfred Borden

Tom Hardy: Eames, Eddie Brock, Alfie Solomons, James Keziah Delaney, Bob (The Drop), Forrest Bondurant, Tuck, Tommy Conlon

By Fandom

DCEU: Roman Sionis, Victor Zsasz (BoP), Bruce Waye/Batman (Nolan’s Batman trilogy), Dr. Crane/Scarecrow (Nolan’s Batman trilogy), Ra’s al Ghul (Batman Begins/Gotham), Arthur Curry, Dr. Shivana

MCU: Loki, Clint Barton, Ulysses Klaue, Doctor Strange, Quentin Beck, Thor

X-Men: Charles Xavier, Erik Lensherr, Logan/Wolverine, Remy Lebeau/Gambit

Star Wars: Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Kylo Ren, DJ

Misc: Illya Kuryakin, Lestat, Herbert West