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#ulysses klaue
misshinson · 7 months
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🤔🤗My dude Andy Serkis has range and we don’t discuss it enough.
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notrandtumblin · 4 months
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This is part 3 of this daunting task I’ve undertaken of using statistics and tumblr pals to find out who the best casting choice of the marvel universe is.
This poll contains many of Phase 3’s characters. On my page are polls for Phase 1 and 2. I will continue to do this until we’ve exhausted the MCU. I will then move on to Fox and Sony Marvel properties plus any MCU ones I may have forgotten.
Stick around and help me conduct this entirely pointless science experiment that has no bearing on nearly anything in my life.
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[ Part One ] - [ Part Two ] - [ Part Three ] - [ Part Four ] [ Part Five ] - [ Part Six ] - [ Part Seven ] - [ Part Eight ]
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citrus-moonlight · 4 months
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Danger Starts the Sharp Incline
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Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Demon!Klaue x Fem Scientist Reader Chapters: 1 of 1 Word count: 4.5K Rating: Explicit
Summary: At your scientific organization the study of demon energy output has become no less mundane than it would at any other research facility. That is until you find yourself trapped with the demon who has recently shifted in your thoughts from an idle curiosity to a distraction.
Warnings: Explicit Rating!, No Age Specified, PWP, One Shot, Smut, Let Me Be Clear: This Is Absolute Filth, Monster Fucking, Demon Fucking, Could be viewed as Dubcon, Implied Mind Manipulation, But to be clear reader is Into It, Pet Names, Touch Starved Demon, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Big Hands I Know You're the One, Unprotected PIV, Size Kink, Squirting, A Lot of Demon Cum, Like A Lot, Cum Marking, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms (both), Overstimulation, Possessiveness
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A/N: Once again, this was supposed to be a quick little smutty thing that ended up getting very, very away from me. This honestly could have been even longer (it was over 5.5k and counting at one point!), but I managed to reign myself in, lol. I almost feel like I have enough for a part two, so who knows, perhaps I'll revisit this AU one day in the future!
This was inspired by the first bit of this absolutely incredible demon/scientist blurb* by @biscuitdragonwithastick, which you should definitely read first (thank you for the ok to go ahead with this!). It fully dug its claws (pun intended?) into my brain and refused let me go. I couldn't stop thinking about a Demon!Klaue AU, and thanks to some lovely encouragement, this is the result!
Please, please mind the tags, my dears, and thank you for reading!
*Demon's name has been changed here to fit the AU
Dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics ❤️
Work title is from "All Mine" by Portishead
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AO3 Link
Make no mistake You shan't escape Tethered and tied There's nowhere to hide from me All mine You have to be
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Klaw’s reaction continues to be noted by the higher-ups, and eventually it’s decided that they want to conduct an experiment, using you.
The next time you’re scheduled on the cleaning rotation they want to take the opportunity to determine if there’s a measurable difference in output and chemical composition - before and after you’ve been in the room with him.
“Just consider what it might mean to the future of energy research”, they’d said. “It could lead to the discovery of a demon-sensitive pheromone additive that boosts energy output across the board.”
Although you flush at the outward acknowledgement of what’s been happening, you can’t deny that it intrigues you.
Especially since you had started dreaming about him.
Since you’d stopped being able to control how wet you got when you observed him.
Since the self-consciousness you’d felt at the sidelong glances of your colleagues had started feeling like something else. 
Something like pride.
* * * * * *
Two days later you’re scheduled for the night shift alone, with not much else to do but make the occasional note in the shift log and wait for the alarm that indicates the mare’s collection tank is full. So you wait. 
And watch.
For the first time you have a chance to really just look at him, and you’re finding it difficult to pay attention to the instruments that you should be monitoring. Your eyes instead are continually drawn back to the observation window and the thick mop of black curls that falls across his forehead where his horns emerge, sharp features are framed by the scruff of a dark beard, and an intriguing mix of tattoos, brands and scars play across the planes and curves of his body.
Although his muscles aren’t as chiseled as many of the demons you've observed in this facility his shoulders and arms are thick, and you unconsciously lick your lips as your eyes follow the dark hair that covers his broad chest and abdomen down to where it meets the wiry hair at the base of his cock.
A slick warmth has been slowly pooling between your thighs since you settled into your chair at the beginning of the shift, but as you watch the bored pumping of his hips fall into a smoother, swaying rhythm, that warmth ignites.
Widening his stance, hooved feet brace on the floor as he pulls out further before thrusting back in, letting you watch his cock slide slowly back into the machine’s opening, burying himself with a jutting roll of his hips, over and over. Almost teasing. 
Almost taunting.
This could be you.
It’s only when Klaw drags his hands along the metal “body” of the mare that you notice it: The claws of the first three fingers of his right hand seem to be…gone? 
With a flicker of concern you flip a switch on the console, using the camera to zoom in. 
Ok, no, they’re not gone per se, but they’re definitely shorter, nearly down to the quick. Was it an accident? Did they break in a fervor as he fucked the contraption? 
Frowning at the screen your mind turns over the possibilities, but before you can think to add the peculiarity to your notes your thoughts fizzle away when you glance back up to the observation window and see that he’s watching you.
As soon as your eyes meet his the tease in his movements falls away and he’s bottoming out hard against the opening in a rough, stuttered rhythm as his eyes cloud over, and you know from past observation that he’s nearing the edge.
Your inner muscles clench and the ache that’s been building since you walked in here swells and overlaps with a flaring jealousy when Klaw shudders and growls, filling the receptacle with another thick load of his seed.
You don’t even realize that you stood up until you feel the cool glass of the observation window beneath your palms, your breath fogging the surface as you press yourself against the barrier.
There’s still a slow, uneven cadence to the demon’s thrusts following his climax, but his gaze swiftly sharpens on you again when one of your hands drifts idly across your stomach, then lower, fingers brushing over the top button of your pants-
-and then you jump when a shrill sound interrupts you, nearly growling at the surge of frustration.
The alarm is piercing and incessant and won’t stop until you enter the demon’s room, so you return to the control panel to activate the sigil that will keep him contained while you clean and recalibrate the machine - tests having shown that a laser projection of the correct wavelength of light is just as effective as a physical binding.
Once you’re through the airlock you quickly set to working through the checklist, unhooking the mechanism that feeds into tanks in the floor and connecting it to a fresh one. You move on to cleaning the unfeeling hole that the demon fucks into day in and day out, your breath going shallow at the jealousy that continues to singe your nerves. 
His gaze stays entirely focused on you as you move around, cock swaying heavily in front of  broad thighs - still hard, always hard - the still leaking head so dark it’s nearly purple. 
The slick between your thighs has only increased since you started to work, fairly certain that you’ve soaked through your panties at this point, and when you have to pass closer to his “cage” he leans forward, nearly pressing himself against the barrier as he follows your path.
Inhaling deeply his cock twitches, more cum dripping from the tip as he ruts at the air, and you can't help but wonder if he’s picking up your frustrated arousal.
“Hurry up.” you chide yourself. “Stop getting distracted. Just finish your shit and get out.”
Kneeling down behind the machine you open the access panel and flip through the menus until you find the one that will complete the calibration, and while you’re focused on watching it cycle you don’t notice the outer door open from the hall into the observation room. 
The intern who enters must not see you where you’re kneeling on the floor, and evidently thinking that the trap has been left on in error he flips the switch to deactivate it.
When the light from the beaming sigil goes dark you pop up in alarm, the face of the intern frozen in an almost comedic grimace of horror when he finally registers that you’re staring back at him from the wrong side of the glass. 
The man reaches for the switch again but Klaw’s reflexes are faster, and before the trap can be reactivated the demon rushes the door. Slamming his shoulder against it he jams it so thoroughly they'll need to bring in special equipment to get it open again, but at this time of night it'll be hours, if you’re lucky, before a crew gets here.
Then he rounds on you.
With an oddly warm sense of detachment you think that you should feel fear as you watch the slow grin spread across his face, but the only thing you feel is a surge of hot, aching desire. 
He rumbles something you don’t understand, though the rough texture of his words is still intoxicating, and before you realize what you’re doing you’re walking towards him, pulling your shirt over your head as you move. 
Because right now you find that you want - need - to bare yourself for him, the sensation of it intense that your skin feels like it’s going to scald if you don’t get your clothes off now, and your shoes, pants and underwear quickly join the discarded pile on the floor.
Stopping in front of him you reach back to unclasp your bra, but your arms pause mid-way when Klaw’s hand reaches out, your breath hitching when he hooks a large, clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his.
You’d always assumed that his eyes were black, but this close you realize that they’re actually an impossibly deep blue, a blue that only resides along the penumbra of light and shadow where the last rays of sun reach into the depths of the ocean
You stand mesmerized as his hand dips lower, leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh as a claw trails gently down the delicate skin of your neck and chest, and then with a flick of his wrist the last scrap of fabric covering you gives way, exposing your breasts to the cool air.  
You’ve barely shrugged off the ruined garment when suddenly you’re being picked up - so, so easily - and placed on a table, swiftly reminded of how much larger and stronger he is than you, and once again dimly aware that you should feel fear, or dread, or some instinct telling you to run.
Not of the shiver of anticipation that leaves your breath hitching in your chest. 
Definitely not the wild need blooming in your core as sharp teeth ghost along the place where your blood thrums, his breath hot and his skin hotter.
His mouth continues its path downward, pausing to lick at the soft swell of your breasts, taking a moment to pull and pluck at your nipples with his lips. A pleased growl vibrates against your skin when you lean back onto your hands with a moan, arching into the swirl of his tongue around your pebbled flesh. 
It’s not long, though, before he can no longer ignore the way this increases the heated musk between your thighs, leaving behind a wet trail of saliva as his mouth travels down, seeking the place where you’re already dripping for him.
The demon's hands nearly wrap entirely around your thighs yet his touch is almost cautious as he presses you open, mesmerized by the way you unfold for him like the petals of a flower, slick and shining.
HIs eyes are heavy lidded as thick fingers begin to tease through your folds, toying with your clit, surprising you with how softly he rolls it between thumb and forefinger, a grin curving the corner of his mouth when your hips buck into his touch.
Noting your reaction he repeats the motion, gently pinching and rolling the sensitive bud until your mouth drops open and your breath is coming in sharp gasps, his dark eyes staying fixed between your legs as thick fingers coax a warm, honeyed orgasm from you, leaving you keening and startled by the slow intensity of it.
You’ve barely caught your breath when you feel his mouth suddenly envelop your mound, lapping eagerly at your release as you whine and writhe beneath his tongue, overwhelmed at the stimulation.
It’s too much, all of this is too much, but as he continues licking and suckling at your sensitive flesh you find that you’re no longer fighting it, the hum of bliss that hadn’t yet faded already building to a fresh swell, and when his lips capture your clit with a sudden fluttering pressure your body stiffens as your second orgasm flares through you, sharper and brighter than the first. 
When he finally releases you he speaks again, but through the haze of afterglow it takes a moment for it to register that this time you think that you understand him, the word seeming to appear within your mind at the same time that you hear it from his glistening lips.
“Sweet.” 
With a start you look down at him and he pauses, head tilting, curiosity knitting his heavy brows. 
Not moving his eyes from yours, his voice is a low, tentative purr when he speaks again.
“Would your sweet cunt like..more?”
Holy fuck. You can understand him.
Your thoughts spin as the shock works its way through you, the analytical part of your mind attempting to parse what the fuck is happening. Is it the increased time in his proximity? The physical contact? Whatever the mechanism, you can suddenly hear- or perhaps more accurately feel - his words, somewhere deep in your conscience.
A firm nod, then, in answer to his question, a responding pull of his lips into a slow, pleased grin.
Dipping his head Klaw licks a broad, wet stripe up your cleft, and then he’s devouring you, slavering hungrily against your sex, drool mixing with your arousal as his lips and tongue work your aching bundle of nerves until you’re gasping shallow breaths, every muscle strung taught as you hover on the edge once more.
Seeking for an anchor your hands find his curved horns, warm and leathery beneath your scrabbling fingers, and then with a rasping cry you’re coming in long, surging waves, your entire body trembling as your hips chase every flutter of pleasure on the tip of his tongue. 
Dimly you think that he must be satisfied now, that you must be satisfied, yet it seems as though with every climax you only hunger more intensely for the next. 
Once your hands release his horns and fall limp at your sides Klaw straightens up, and then wrapping his hand around his cock he starts roughly stroking himself. 
Almost without thinking your legs fall open, shaky arms pulling your knees back to expose yourself to him, knowing he can see how your soaked cunt still clenches through the last waves of your orgasm, and it’s only a few more strokes before he’s coming with a rough jerk of his hips and you gasp at the heat, thick ropes of cum streaking across your slick folds and the insides of your thighs.  
Still breathing hard, the pumping of his fist gradually slows, a hand drifting along the curve of your inner thigh as his focus comes back to you. Gathering some of the sticky mess he left between your legs he drags it through your folds, and then suddenly a thick finger is sliding into you.
Even as you gasp at the intrusion you begin to understand that he had actually done it on purpose: Biting down those claws himself because, it seems, he had been thinking about this.
The realization that it was for you leaves your entire body humming, and as your hips cant up to meet the slow, almost teasing thrusts, there’s only one word that swells and ripens in your mind, uncertain whether it’s your word or his even as it falls from your lips.
“More.”
A knowing glint flashes in his eyes at your soft plea, and almost immediately you feel a second finger slipping against you. Just teasing his fingertips at your entrance at first he lets your juices slick them before pressing into you, both fingers together nearly as thick as a human cock.
You moan as he continues to slide them in and out of you, and just as you begin to sink into the ache of it, you moan low in your throat when suddenly he’s adding a third.
The heady pressure of him working three fingers into your already stretched hole is overwhelming, and you’re unsure whether you want to throw yourself towards the sensation or resist it, your body arching into him, yet tensing and pulling away at the same time.
But then he’s pressing you down onto the table, his hand nearly spanning the width of your chest to hold you in place as his fingers continue nudging deeper.
“Where are you going, little one? Going to have to take it if you want my cock." 
As if to emphasize his words he drags his erection against the inside of your thigh with a grunted sigh, a fresh streak of precum adding to the mess that he’s already left on you.
Because of course you do, and he knows it, has known it since you stopped being able to look away from his hunched form as he fucked into his mechanical mate, a warm curiosity growing into a distracting need.
And you know that he could have taken you at any time, could have forced himself into you as soon as your clothes were a forgotten pile on the floor. But instead, he’s been preparing you to take him properly, making you come until the only thing you know is his mouth and his fingers and you’re soft and trembling and ravenous.
“God yes.” You spread your legs wide again, giving him an obscene view of where his fingers are sinking into you, slick sounds filling the room as they pump faster now.
“There you go.” He croons above you. “Made for this, hmm?" 
Any attempt at a response trails into a choked cry when he finds that soft, needy spot deep inside you, a fresh, pulsing heat spreading through your already exhausted body as he takes you apart once more. Still pinned beneath his hand you’re unable to do anything but allow it to wash through you, shaking and whimpering as he continues to drag firm, curling strokes against your clenching walls.
Leaning down Klaw presses his face into your heaving chest, and your nipples tighten and ache as he licks languorously between your breasts, his huffed breath is hot against your skin.
As your senses filter back in your hands slowly begin to move, exploring the corded muscles of his neck and shoulders, trembling fingers tugging and sliding through his hair, and then up and over his horns again.
Letting your eyes slip closed you take in the ridged curve of them, a velvety pleasure blooming in your chest when he inhales sharply, cock throbbing against your thigh when your fingers wrap around the base of them.
Finally pulling his fingers out of you he tugs you up, turning around and repositioning you so that you’re straddling his broad hips as best you can. Strong hands support you, encouraging you to slide your slick folds along his shaft, a giddy sort of panic stuttering in your chest at the sudden awareness of the size of him where he twitches between your thighs.
Desperate whines that may as well be prayers slide from your throat when he lifts you higher and you feel the thick, bulbous head of his cock nudging against your entrance, the only words falling from your lips a whispered litany of “Oh my god oh my god oh my god."
“I’m not your God, little one,” he growls softly, words distorted as if you're hearing them through a sediment of granite and blood. "But you will worship me."
“Yes. Yes..Oh fuck, please.” 
Beneath your lilting plea you dimly hear gritted curses and words of encouragement as you circle your hips, your arousal making a slick mess of his cock.
You can't help how eagerly your hips rock down, seeking more, so lost in the sensations that you're unprepared when a hard press of your hips matches his upward thrust, and the thick head of his cock suddenly ruts up into you, and when he slips past the tight ring of muscle the feral sound from deep in your chest nearly matches his.
Panting open mouthed you hold him there before rising up, slowly, slowly, letting him slip out of you before sinking down to take him back in. You feel weightless beneath the obsidian glint in his eyes as he watches you repeat the motion again, and again, his arms helping you move as you start to shake from the effort of riding just the head of his cock.
Even now there’s something warm and urgent drawing your hand lower, and you’re unable to help feeling pleased when his eyes go heavy as his gaze follows your fingers down to where they press against your clit.
“So..needy.” he rumbles. “Better than I imagined.”
“You..imagined?” You pant, attempting to sound coy, but your words are thick with lust as you continue to roll your hips, forcing yourself down further down his length. 
Your movements are becoming less controlled now, and when your fingers slip and brush against his shaft you whimper at how fucking big he feels where he's stretching you open, and how much of him is still outside of you.
You can feel every slick ridge and vein beneath your hand, and as you slide it along his length the muscles of his thighs tense and flex beneath you, his breathing going rough as your messy strokes continue.
“Look at you taking my cock,” Klaw grits, the demon’s hips beginning to stutter up in short, sharp thrusts. “Such a good little pet.” 
His words trail into a low growl that vibrates through your body as you feel a hard throb beneath your hand, and then heat.
You gasp, continuing to writhe as he spills into you, coating your inner walls with his thick seed, and almost you feel as though you could come again just from the heat of it.
Fuck, you need more of that.
Need it deeper.
Even as the pulsing beneath your fingers slows he doesn't stop moving, finally coming inside of you seeming only to have tipped his need to fevered desire. Holding you in place he thrusts up harder, dislodging your hand, and you can feel his spend leaking out of you, dripping down the insides of your thighs and slicking his still hard cock as he continues to drive deeper, no longer letting you set the pace. 
“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He taunts, voice still a rough half-whisper after his orgasm. “Could feel it when you watched me. Wanted me to fill your little cunt, hmm?”
“Yes.” You let out a growled sob, jealous anger surging through you. ”That..thing, doesn’t fucking deserve it.”
A flame crackles in Klaw’s eyes at your heated words, and you wonder with a jolt of awareness whether he hasn’t been just as desperate for this as you have, longing for you as he remained trapped in the torment of a cold, unfeeling machine. Driven purely by instinct, chasing his release over and over again but never being truly satisfied.
The sudden realization that you could give that to him floods you with almost as much pleasure as the agony of being filled with his cock.
You’ve barely processed the thought when you suddenly find yourself with your back once again pressed against the cool metal of the table, Klaw only pulling out of you briefly before thrusting back in, harder.
He continues a slow, controlled rhythm, both of you panting hard as you feel yourself softening around him, becoming more pliant as your body relents to every stroke until with a final arching rock of his hips your cunt is completely stretched and full, everything so impossibly tight that you can’t even clench around him.
He's never felt anything quite like you, the achingly tight grip of your pussy leaving him nearly breathless as he holds himself as deep as he can, huffing and grunting like a bull while he watches you writhe and spasm beneath him.
Then he starts to fuck you.
He tries to keep his strokes firm and measured at first, but he can’t hold back anymore and it's not long before his chest is heaving, lips curled in a snarl, and it feels as though you're being split open as he pulls you back onto his cock in time to meet every thrust. 
A scarlet thread runs through every cell of your soft animal body, stringing tighter and tighter as pleasure builds to the edge of breaking but then surging higher, a fresh ecstasy building on every peak. 
The tightening grip around your waist signals the absolute loss of his control and when you hiss at the sudden piercing bite of his claws he moves his hands to brace on the table instead, his broad body forcing your legs back towards your shoulders as he leans down over you, driving his cock as deep as he can get into your willing heat until he’s grunting and drooling above you. 
A divine bliss slides through your veins as you lie beneath him, caught between the trammel of his arms, and as you watch his base instinct take over you begin to understand that only fools could believe that lust is a sin. 
And even if it was, even if you were offered perfect grace in this moment, you know with absolute certainty that you would refuse.
An infernal dam is finally swelling to breaking as you surrender to every relentless thrust of his cock, your wailed sobs the only sounds you can make as an impossible pressure ripples through your core, and with a deep throb you suddenly feel a drenching heat as your release washes over his cock and your thighs. 
“There you go.” Klaw growls. “Make a mess for me, little one.” 
This seems to be his final undoing, and as you continue to soak his cock his thrusting goes ragged until with rough groan he’s coming deep inside you, stilling himself to keep the head of his cock pressed against the deepest part of you, making sure that you feel every hot, throbbing pulse of his cum as it fills you.
Keeping himself seated deep he rocks slow grinding thrusts into the slippery mess he’s made of his you, the lust that’s had no real outlet finally finding satisfaction in the way your clenching cunt is milking his cock, in the gentle swell of your belly as he pumps you full of his seed.
You’re a sweaty, twitching mess beneath him, and as much as you wish you could you’re unable to take all of it, can’t help how it spills out around his cock where you’re stretched and sore, how his cum and yours drips down your swollen sex to pool beneath you on the table.
His hands don't stop moving over your body, cupping your breasts, grasping at you hips, sliding over the ripe swell of you where he can feel you filled with his cock and his cum. Vaguely aware of soft grunts mixed with mumbled praise, you don’t register what he’s saying at first through the haze of euphoria.
“Going to be mine.” he rumbles, between languorous strokes. ”My little queen.” 
“Mine.”
* * * * * * *
The room is warm and flickering, silken sheets decadent beneath your fingers, your body thrumming with a heated anticipation that never seems to fade, now.
Rough hands lift your hips as your demon mounts you from behind, a hand placed firmly between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.
A panting whine slides from your throat as he spreads you open, the thick head of his cock prodding your entrance, pleased to see you’re still dripping with his seed from the last time he filled you. And he doesn’t like leaving you empty for very long.
“Say it again, little one.” Klaw growls softly, holding himself still. Waiting.
“Yours.” 
You sigh, a smile curling around the word as he pushes into you.
“I’m yours.”
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A/N: As ever, thank you for reading! This was definitely a bit outside my comfort zone, but I hope you enjoyed this filthy little foray into monster fuckery. 😊
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eupheme · 6 days
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— 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.
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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.
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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.
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He vibrated the glass, and it vibrated my - *gunshot*
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tarabyte3 · 2 months
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Blorbo alignment chart by gallusrostromegalus
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This popped up on my fyp and I knew I had to make one for Andy Serkis characters.
[Kino Loy, Star Wars: Andor; Gollum, The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit; Pvt. Thomas Quinn, Deathwatch; David, The Cottage; Bill, Loop; Liam Black, BBC's The Accused; Ulysses Klaue, Black Panther; Capricorn, Inkheart; David Robey, Luther: The Fallen Sun]
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stargirlfics · 10 months
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just wanna add, ulysses has an insane daddy kink and if you call him that in public...in front of his lackeys...oof you would be walking funny for a while
Klaue having a daddy kink actually makes me feral yes!!! It just feels right ugh I wanna drive that man crazy, please!!!
I can see him visibly struggling when you bat your lashes and call him your daddy, it genuinely makes his brain short circuit, imagine the LOOK he would give you, he would be so close to snapping and hauling you over his shoulder right there 🥵
“Yeah sweetheart, daddy’s here.”
I simply have to scream
The effect it has on him is so fun for you to play with, especially if it’s in front of his guys, the little authority/ego boost, how he knows it’s a challenge too cause you’re calling him that in public (not that he minds one bit, he likes when you call attention to the fact that he’s yours and you’re his) yeah you’re at risk of letting everyone know what’s up with the resulting pounding he would give you and I want it so bad!!!
Adding a little visual cause I think he’s giving off so much daddy energy it makes me weak and also my friend made this gif and I’m obsessed with it, y’all should check out her Klaue fic btw! <3
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sisyphean-thirst · 9 months
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Masterlist
Wanted to put some ideas I’m working on down before I forget. I’ll beautify this later, when I’m not working.
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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
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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
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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
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itsmoocoo201 · 4 months
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His tattoo.
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viceofdionysus · 2 days
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Ante Up
Ulysses Klaue x afab!reader Word Count: 6.3k Rating: 18+ Summary: After Klaue makes you an interesting offer, you decide it might be worth the gamble. Contains: P in V, cock riding, fucked against a (tinted) window, biting, three spanks, oral (f! receiving), licking, manhandling, gambling, minor begging, teasing, multiple orgasms, covered in cum, Bossy Klaue
As the sun sinks below the horizon and the moon starts her ascent, Madripoor comes to life. Neons flicker on and the merchants raise the shutters on their stores. The streets fill with people and their noise. You lean against your balcony railing and smile. You've been all over the world, but nothing compares to Madripoor at night. There's a scream, a gunshot, and sudden silence. Then the noise resumes like nothing happened.
Shaking your head, you turn away from the view and step into your hotel room. The noise is muffled as you shut the door behind you, but not silenced completely. You unbelt your robe and let the garment slide to the floor in a pool.The dress that you'd laid out earlier waits for you on the bed. You slide it on and turn to look at the full length mirror. You adjust the dress until it falls perfectly over your figure. Considering, you choose a pair of shoes and run your finger over them. Unbidden, the thought of deep blue eyes comes to you. You roll your eyes at yourself. 
“I'm not getting dressed for him.” You tell your reflection. But silently you admit that he does play a role in your choices. You want to feel his eyes on you tonight, to feel him watching your every move. 
You blow out a breath and sit on the edge of the bed. You slip the shoes on and then take a second to admire them. A knock breaks you out of your thoughts. 
“Ma'am? The Market is opening.”
You stand and take one last look in the mirror. “Well, let's go see what The Market has for us then.”
You toss your head back and square your shoulders. In the mirror your reflection smiles back at you. 
Your bodyguard falls into step behind you as you leave the room. Your footsteps are muffled by the plush carpet as you make your way to the elevator. 
“You remember your team's job tonight?” You ask your guard after the elevator closes behind you. 
“Look and listen, but don't touch.”
“Good.” You turn and smile sharply at him, “I want to know about every deal made, every secret sworn.”
“Yes ma'am.”
“You'll report in the morning. Candy is handling the business deals tonight. She can handle herself, but keep an eye on her anyway.”
“Yes ma'am.”
The rest of the elevator ride is quiet. When the elevator settles into stillness, you draw in a breath and let it out slowly. The doors slide open to reveal a young woman.
“Welcome to The Market. May you find everything you desire.”
She presses a hand to her heart and inclines her head. You nod in return and she steps back. 
Behind her, The Market sprawls out across the floor, a mini Madripoor. You can hear rapid fire bargaining in various languages starting already. The scent of something savory and spicy wafts through the air. You smile and take it all in. As you slide between the rows, your bodyguard vanishes into the crowd, but you can easily pick out three more of your crew. 
You nod at Candy as you wind your way through the various offerings. She tips her head in acknowledgement, but she keeps eye contact with the buyer. You keep moving, listening to the crush of people with half an ear. 
You note several items of interest and make mental notes of things to circle back to. One booth catches your eye and you stop to look at the wares. 
As you look over the offerings, you feel the weight of someone's gaze on you. Heat flares in your belly and you force yourself not to turn. You swallow hard and keep your gaze on the weapons before you. 
Then he's behind you, boxing you against the table, the width of his shoulders pressed tightly against you. His breath is hot against your neck. 
“Well if it isn't the Queen Bee herself. What're you looking at?”
“Hello Ulysses.” You fight to keep your voice level, “So nice to see you again. I wasn't sure you'd be allowed in after last year's spectacle.”
“Took some bargaining.” You can feel the rumble of his laughter, “Told me I would have to be on my best behavior.”
“I wasn't aware you had any best behavior.”
His chuckle sends desire racing through you. 
“Maybe if you ask nice, I'll show you.”
“Maybe when I’m feeling extra bored, I’ll consider your offer.” 
You look at the merchant and motion to a slim gun. He nods and you pick it up. You let your fingers run over the cool metal as you examine it. It looks like it should have been light weight, but there’s some heft to it. 
“Based on Chitauri tech,” The merchant says, smiling at you, “It looks good with your hands on it.” 
Klaue’s growl vibrates through you, stoking the fire in your belly. You smile blandly at the merchant. 
“It might be based on Chitauri tech, but this clearly falls short of actually mimicking it. The design is a mediocre ripoff of your betters. And if you think you can get away with charging that price for it? You’re more of an idiot than I credited you as.” You set the gun back down on the table and smirk at him, “If you want to play in the big leagues you’ll have to do better.” 
Klaue shifts half a step back, giving you room to turn. He stays close as you slip back into the flow of people. 
“I think that pup just peed himself.” 
“Better to hear it from me than a serious buyer. Wilson would have shot him then and there for trying to sell guns like that.” 
“Yeah, but Wilson’s got a hair trigger.” Klaue brushes a hand down your back. He’s sure to feel the shiver that follows his hand. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“Don’t you have business here?” 
“Sure, but nothing as interesting as you.” 
You sigh, “Go away, Ulysses, find one of your playmates. I assume I’ll see you at the tables later.” 
“Wouldn’t miss it.” 
He watches you walk away and whistles, “I like the dress, Queenie.” 
You feel heat rise in your face, but you still refuse to turn to him. 
“Goodbye Ulysses!” 
His laughter follows you as you wind further into the crowd. Once you’re sure you're out of his sight, you risk a look over your shoulder. He’s nowhere to be seen, but you know that doesn’t mean much with him. You step out of the flow of people and into a quiet corner between merchants. You set a hand on your fluttering stomach and take a deep breath. When you close your eyes, you can still feel the heat of him pressed against your back.
🃏
“Thank you for joining us for The Market.” A voice crackles from hidden speakers, “The gambling tables will be opening in 10 minutes. Please feel free to continue your business.” 
You lean against the bar, fingers drumming an idle beat. The bartender nods at you as they walk past. A few minutes later, they set a drink in front of you and continue walking. 
Drink in hand, you push away from the bar and wander to the door dividing the merchants from the gambling tables. A young man acknowledges you and pushes a tray of chips towards you. 
“Thank you for joining us this evening. $200,000 in chips as you requested.” 
“Playing with chump change tonight then Queenie?” 
“And how much are you putting in tonight, Ulysses?” You ask, “Can’t be much after you lost the Cartagena job.” 
“You mean the one you stole from me?” 
You smirk at that and turn to him, “Not my fault I was simply better equipped to handle it. I can give you some tips if you’d like.” 
He smirks back at you, the edge of his gold tooth just showing. He’s cleaned up since you last saw him and cut his hair. Your eyes flick down and then travel back up, taking in the full breadth of him. His sleeves are rolled up, showing off the tattoos on his forearms. You mentally fortify yourself at the sight, grateful that at least his shirt is fully buttoned. He looks mouthwateringly good. 
“Your tie is crooked.” 
He looks down and shrugs. You roll your eyes and step closer. 
“Hold these.” You set your chip tray on top of his and press your drink into his other hand. “Honestly Ulysses.” 
You grip the silky fabric and tug it gently back into alignment. When you’re satisfied with it, you smooth your hand down his tie, daring the tie to go crooked again. You look up and meet his gaze, something dark and heated swirling in his eyes. Swallowing hard, you step back. You stiffen your spine and nod briskly. 
“Much better.” 
You take the chip tray and drink back from him. Before he can say anything, the door opens and the gambling tables are revealed. 
“Enjoy your time at the tables,” The speakers crackle, “And thank you all for your generous donations to the house.” 
“May luck be on your side.” You say and turn away from him. 
He watches as you turn and walk away, his eyes tracking over your figure, committing every detail to memory. 
He considers his own chips and follows you to the Roulette table. Your eyes flick up at him when he rests his weight against the opposite side of the table from you. He loves the way your eyebrow raises at the sight of him, the considering light that your eyes take on. 
“Since you’re so well equipped, it won’t be an issue if I play at the same table as you, will it?” He asks.
There’s a flash of something in your eyes that has the heat pooling in his belly. “No,” Your answer is saccharine, “No issue for me. As long as you don’t mind losing.” 
He grins at you and sets a small stack of chips on the table without looking. 
“That’s an interesting strategy.” You place a few chips on one square and a few chips on another. 
“I like to keep things lively, Queenie. Can’t stand the thought of being boring.” 
You snort and roll your eyes as the dealer closes betting. She drops the small ball with a quiet clack and the wheel sends it spinning. It rattles around and around before starting to slow. When it finally settles into a slot, you hear Klaue’s quiet hiss. 
“Looks like interesting isn’t always the best method.” 
You collect your winnings from the dealer and consider the table, two more bets you think. You place a stack of chips on the table and glance at Klaue. 
“Betting again or are you just going to watch?” 
You watch as he places two stacks on the table, his forearm muscles flexing. You manage to pull your gaze away and settle it on the roulette wheel. The dealer drops the ball and round and round it goes. 
“Well now isn’t that interesting.” He says when the ball finds its resting place. 
“Don’t count your winnings yet, the night is far from over.” You flash him a sharp smile, “There’s still plenty of time for you to lose it all.” 
The dealer resets the board and you consider it. You look up and lock eyes with Klaue for a moment. 
“Well, what’s your move Queenie?” 
You set a double stack of chips on the zero. “Let’s live a little.” 
He laughs and sets a matching amount of chips next to yours. The dealer nods and closes betting. This time, you keep your eyes on him as the ball spins. He watches you right back, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. The ball stops and you hear the clapping around you. The dealer shares out your winnings and you stack them neatly into your tray. 
“You done?” He asks. 
“I’m leaving on a high note. Don’t want the table to turn on me.” 
“What’s the matter, Queenie? Afraid of a little risk?” 
You shake your head, “Risk is a part of life, but it can and should be managed.” 
You step back from the table and a passing waiter takes your empty glass. You try not to care if he follows you or not, but it’s gratifying when you feel him at your back. 
“So what, you never take a leap of faith?” He asks, voice low in your ear. 
“Leaps of faith are for the unprepared. I like to know what I’m getting myself into and being prepared. I decide what I want and if it’s worth the risk, I go after it.” 
He’s quiet as you wind through the crowd, but you know he’s not done. 
“I have an offer for you.” He says as you reach the blackjack table. 
It’s not your usual game, but you know Klaue likes it, so you take a seat at the table. He slides into the seat next to you and leans into your space. 
“An offer?” You set your chips on the table and look at him, “What kind of an offer?” 
“An interesting one,” He grins, “Could be a little risky too.”
Despite yourself, you’re intrigued, but you keep your face placid. “Really? What’s the reward?” 
“Pleasure.” He purrs in your ear. The dealer ends betting and starts passing out cards. 
You tilt your head and look at him, “Pleasure could be worth quite a bit of risk.”
You look at your card and shake your head. You surrender, giving up half your bet and Klaue hits. He smirks at the card he gets. 
“Blackjack.” He says. 
“Looks like your luck is up tonight.” 
He grins at you, “Hopefully it’ll stay that way.” 
You watch as the dealer clears the table and asks for bets. You bet the table minimum and get a card. Part of you is dying to know what Klaue’s offer is, but the other part of your doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. So you focus on your card and hit to get a second card. Klaue hits as well and smirks. 
“Would you look at that! Blackjack again.” 
You lift your gaze and narrow your eyes at him. He shrugs, not at all repent. 
“What do you want?”
“Play a hand of poker with me.” 
“Poker? Your master plan is poker?” You try to coat your disbelief with disinterest, but he can still hear it in your voice. 
“Scared of a little poker?” He asks, “I promise I’ll be gentle.” 
You roll your eyes and stand. The dealer nods in acknowledgement and your seat is quickly filled. 
“Do you know how deeply annoying you are?” You ask as you start towards the poker tables. 
He laughs, “I think it’s one of my best features.” 
The poker tables are all filled when you get there. The overseer nods to you and Klaue and motions for you to wait. You nod in answer and turn to face Klaue. 
“You want a drink?” He asks, “Could be a long wait.” 
“A drink would be nice.” 
Before you can tell him what you want, he turns, “I’ll be right back. Don’t stop thinking about me.” 
“Unlikely that’ll happen.” You mutter under your breath. 
You fan a hand at your cheek and try to get yourself back in order. No matter how annoying you say he is, you can’t help but find him deeply appealing too. It’s not long before you see him coming back. You let yourself watch him come back, taking in his form, imaging the play of his muscles under his clothes. The crowd parts around him, easing his path back and soon his back with you, He hands you a glass identical to your original one. 
“How did you know my drink order?” 
He leans close, “Because I’ve been paying attention, Queenie.” 
He doesn’t miss the way you swallow hard at his words. He smirks and steps back. 
“How was your job in Moscow?” He asks. 
The sudden shift in conversation puts you back on familiar ground, but you still feel unbalanced. 
“It was good. Got some new toys, some important information.” You answer, trying to keep it vague. “Actually I need to schedule a meeting with you about some of the things we found.” 
“Name your time, Queenie. I’ll make it free for you.” Just as you start to answer, the overseer waves you over, “Looks like we’re up.” 
He drops his hand and lets it hover over your lower back as the pair of you make your way to the table. He pulls your chair out and then pushes it in after you sit. He takes the empty chair across from you. The dealer requests the blinds, and you put in chips for the big blind. The dealer passes out two cards to all five of the players and then waits for bets. 
You look at the pair of cards in your hand and consider the possibilities. It's a decent pair of hole cards and you're already in the pool as the big blind, so you decide to see how the flop goes. The dealer burns a card and then lays out the three cards and turns them over. Keeping your face placid, you look over the flop and mentally configure cards. 
Not bad, you think, I can work with this. 
“You know, we could make this more interesting.” 
“Is this about your offer?” 
“You win this hand, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.” You fight off the disappointment that pierces your heart. 
“Now that is an interesting offer.” You smirk at him, “What if you win? Raise $4000.” The chips make a soft noise as you add them to the pile.
“You spend the night with me.” He matches your bet and the man on his right folds. 
You shift, leaning forward, his eyes immediately drawing down to your chest. You smile at him sweetly, “Now, why would I agree to something like that?” 
He shifts forward to match you, resting his forearms against the table, “Because you’re bored sweetheart.” You want to rear back, but you force yourself to hold still. “You’re bored with all the bland suits that parade their way through your warehouse. The ones that tell you that they’ll take you away from this life if you let them take over. Tell me I’m wrong.” 
The dealer burns the top card and deals the Turn card. The woman on her left folds. 
“Raise, $10,000.” You sneer at Klaue, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” But he’s hit closer to the mark than you’d like. He sees more than you thought he did. 
You’d never admit it, to him at least, that you’ve wondered what those broad shoulders would feel like under your hands, what that beard would feel like against your thighs
“Don’t I?” He asks, “Raise $15,000.” 
“And what if I don’t want to play your game?” 
He shrugs, “Then fold. Walk away.” He smirks, knowing you won’t.
The competitive streak that lives close to your heart snaps to life, “Fold?” You laugh, “Here I was thinking this might be a serious offer and you’ve been bluffing this whole time. Raise $20,000.” 
You snap your gaze away from him and realize that the rest of the table has emptied out. You look at the dealer, who is placidly watching the table, no emotions on her face. 
“Raise $25,000. What’s it going to be sweetheart? Are you in or out?” 
You narrow your eyes at him, something wild pounding in your heart. You slide your room key out of your pocket and toss it on top of the pot. “Raise.” 
The dealer looks at Klaue and he nods, “I find the bet acceptable.” He smirks at you.
As the dealer burns the top card, Klaue looks at you, his gaze dragging over you, raising goosebumps in its wake. 
“This is it sweetheart.” 
The dealer lays down the River card. Klaue raises an eyebrow at the Queen of Hearts and shakes his head. 
“Straight Flush.” He says, revealing the run of diamonds. 
You lift your cards and think about the possibilities. Your room key glints gently under the overheard lights. The wild thing in your chest presses you towards impulse. You shake your head. 
“Well, I guess I didn’t have shit after all.” He raises an eyebrow, “You take the pot Ulysses.” 
You rise out of your chair and see him swallow hard, his pupils dilating. 
“Did you think I wouldn’t ante up?” You ask, “If you weren’t full of shit, meet me at the elevator in an hour.”
“An hour?” 
“I still have business to attend to.” You turn and walk away, but you can feel his gaze pressing between your shoulders. 
He waits until you’ve disappeared into the crush of people and then he waves off the dealer. She steps away from the table, leaving him alone. Quickly he reaches across the table and picks up your cards. He flips them over and looks at them for a long moment before chuckling. 
“Knew you were bored.” 
A Royal Flush in Hearts looks back at him from the table, the Queen you needed winking at him from the River. A hand that would have trumped his unquestionably if you’d played it. 
“An hour, my ass.” He shoves to his feet. 
🃏
“Any trouble?” You ask. 
Candy shakes her head, “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Good. If anything does come up, you know the signal.” 
“Of course ma’am.” Candy looks over your shoulder and raises her eyebrows, “Ma’am?”
“What is it?”  
Before she can answer, a strong arm wraps around you from behind. Candy’s eyes widen, but you shake your head at her. She tips her head in acknowledgement and disappears into the crowd. 
“Hour’s up.” He purrs in your ear, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. 
“It’s barely been ten minutes.” You answer, struggling to keep your voice level. 
His hand splays wide over your belly, pressing you even more firmly against him. “Would you rather I fuck you here? Claim you in front of all these people?” 
“You wouldn’t.” But you’re not so sure about that. 
“Do you want to find out?” 
“You’re filthy. Disgusting.” The heat pulses between your legs. 
“That’s why you want me.” 
He gently tugs you towards the elevator and you turn. He shifts to press his broad hand against your lower back, tucking you into him. He guides you through the press of people, nimbly weaving through them and shouldering them out of the way in equal measure. At the elevator, he slams the side of his fist against the button, his other arm still hooked around you. When it doesn’t come fast enough, you hear him swear under his breath. You shift and lay a hand on his chest, wrapping your fingers under the edge of his vest. He looks at you, watching as you tilt your head, exposing the line of your throat. 
“What’s wrong, Klaue?” You murmur, “Too worked up?” 
Before he can answer, the elevator chimes softly and the doors slide open. You step inside, with Klaue following closely behind. In a quick, graceful move, he turns, spinning you to face the doors and sliding in behind you. His lips curl up in a snarl as a man approaches the elevator and the man stops, raising his hands. The doors slide shut and he lowers his mouth to your neck.
Despite the strength in his grip, his mouth is gentle as he kisses up the side of your neck. You gasp softly when he reaches the sweet spot behind your ear. You feel him smile against your skin. His hands come to your hips as he switches to kiss the other side of your neck. He pulls you firmly against him and you can feel his already hard cock pressing against you. He noses your ear gently and licks down the side of your neck to your shoulder. 
“Klaue.” You whisper. 
He nips your shoulder and then drags his chin against your neck, the scratch of his beard sending jolts of pleasure through you. He pulls you even more tightly against him and grinds against your ass. Your answering moan fills the elevator. 
“Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” He whispers roughly in your ear, “Thinking about getting my hands on you? You’ve been driving me wild for so long Queenie. I’m going to make you feel so good.” 
Your hips press back against him, your head falling back to meet him. “Klaue, I,” 
“I’m going to make you scream my name, so this whole damn building knows who's making you feel good.” 
Your mind blanks for long enough to the elevator to finish its ascent, chiming softly when it arrives at your floor. You're tugging him off the elevator before the doors are even halfway open. His chuckle sends heat coursing through your veins. 
You’ve never been so glad to have a room near the elevator. You manage to make it the short distance, Klaue’s hands everywhere that he can reach. At the door, you remember that he has your keycard and you turn, reaching for his pocket, only to find yourself pressed against the door. 
His hands slide down to your waist and he lifts, his biceps flexing under his shirt. Your mouth goes dry, words suddenly fleeing you. His mouth is on your’s the next instant, hot and devouring. The heat in your core is a full blaze, the sheer want pounding through your veins. His tongue traces the outline of your lips before slipping into your mouth. And then suddenly, he’s pulling back. You whine, missing the intense heat of him instantly. He chuckles and slides the room key out of his pocket with a wink. 
“So eager.” He gently traces your cheek with a fingertip. 
You bare your teeth at him and try to bite his finger. He pulls back with a laugh and swipes the keycard. The door opens behind and you wrap a hand around his loosened tie, letting your weight pull you backwards. You stumble a few steps before you manage to right yourself. Klaue’s hands are on you immediately. 
He grabs your waist firmly and pulls you close to him. You nip his bottom lip before sucking it gently into your mouth. He growls and walks you backwards, pressing you against a wall. 
“You’re wearing too many clothes.” You say when you pull back. 
He manages to unbutton a few buttons before you bat his hands away. You grip the edges of his unbuttoned shirt and his vest and flex. The clothing comes apart, buttons flying, revealing his toned torso. You push him backwards and bend over slightly. He’s about to make a lewd joke, but he cuts off when you lay your tongue on the edge of his tattoo and trace it all the way up and over his collar bone. 
“Fuck Queenie.” He grasps your chin and brings your mouth back to his. 
He ravages your mouth, his hands running up and down your sides. Your head falls back, exposing your throat and he’s quick to switch his attention. He bites and sucks equally, delighting in every sound he pulls from you. His aching cock presses against your thigh and he can’t keep his hips from rutting. 
“Klaue!” 
“Clothes.” He gasps roughly into your neck, “Now.” 
You manage to break away from him and retreat to the otherside of the bed. He slips the ruined shirt and vest off, his eyes intent on you as you undress. He takes in your nakedness, appreciating every part of you. 
He strides across the room, grabs you and turns you around, pressing you against the window. The chill of the window causes you to gasp. 
“Look out there, all of Madripoor at your feet. And none of them are as lucky as you tonight.” 
“You sure think highly of yourself.” 
Klaue shifts behind you and then there’s a sharp sting on your ass. He’s quick to follow it by three more hard swats. He leans close, draping himself over your back. 
“Cheeky girls get what they deserve.” He drops a kiss to your shoulder and yanks you away from the window. 
Behind you, you hear him undoing his pants and then you feel the press of his hand cock against your ass. He leans forward, draping himself over your back, forcing you against the cool glass.
“Spread your legs.” 
You smirk at your reflection, “Make me.”
Klaue growls and shoves his thigh between your legs. Your legs part for the thick muscle as he presses his leg forward. He rocks his thigh against your center, chuckling as he feels how wet you are. 
“You like this, Queenie?” His voice is rough against your ear. 
He doesn't wait for your answer before he shifts his leg away. You whine softly at the loss, the sound shifting into a gasp as Klaue presses his cockhead against your entrance. He pushes in slowly, enjoying the feeling of your pussy pulling him in. You gasp at the slow stretch of his cock, your hips rocking gently. 
“Look at the view.” 
You look down at the city below, the neons lighting up the night. You know the glass is tinted, so no one can see in, but there's still a thrill in your belly. 
“Klaue.”
He rocks his hips, his cock dragging along your sweet spot. 
“Should I make you come like this?” 
He reaches down and grasps your hips. The cool glass pressing against your front contrasts sharply with the heat of him against your back. You can feel your orgasm starting to build in your core and then suddenly he's pulling out. 
“Klaue?”
He moves quick, hauling you up and around. You land on the bed with a gentle bounce, Klaue following the movement closely. He crosses the short distance and you’ve never felt more like you were being hunted. His grip on your calves is firm as he pulls you to the edge of the bed. You watch him kneel, his eyes locked on yours. He lowers his mouth and traces the flat of his tongue through your folds. You want to let your head fall back, but his gaze is too magnetic. 
“Klaue.” You whisper. 
He turns his head and gently bites your thigh. 
“Klaue.” You say. He bites the other thigh. 
“Klaue!” 
He returns his attention collecting the wetness in your folds. He trails his tongue up to flick you clit once, twice, three times, before he circles it tightly. Your hands come to his head, pressing against the shaved sides, fingers sinking into his curls. He laughs, the vibrations traveling through your core. You can feel the tightening coil in your center, so close to snapping. He can tell you’re getting close and he has one last languid lick through your folds before he pulls back, leaving you gasping, 
“Fuck you.” 
In a flash, he’s over you, one arm braced by your head, the other hand firmly holding your face, “You come on my cock, Queenie, or not at all.” 
“Fuck you,” You snarl back, “You want me that badly, then fucking take me.” 
His cock throbs at that. It takes all of his willpower to not thrust into your sweet pussy. Instead he hooks his arms under your legs and lifts you up. He shifts you further onto the bed and follows. Your eyes trail over the thick lines of his body, pausing to admire the way his muscles bunch and flex. Your gaze drops lower, drawn to his cock. He’s thick and just a little curved up, thick curls at the base.  
“Klaue.” You bite your lip. 
“Ask nicely Queenie.” 
“Please.”
“Please what?” 
“Please fuck me.” 
The bed shifts under his weight, your legs spread to accommodate the bulk of him. His cock slides between your soaked folds, delicious, but not nearly enough. He leans over you, kissing your shoulder. 
“You’ve driven me crazy since the first time I saw you, you know that Queenie? So collectd and well put together. It made me want to unbutton you.”  
He presses into you slowly. You moan as he sinks into your aching core. 
“You always knew exactly how to get under my skin and infuriate me.” You gasp. 
He chuckles and kisses you, “I wanted you to think about me.” 
“Trust me,” You wrap your arms around him, your hand cradling the back of his head, “I’ve done plenty of thinking about you. Plenty of…fantasizing too.”
He groans as he bottoms out, “Queenie.” 
He rolls his hips experimentally, drawing a soft moan from you. He rolls them more firmly and then again, stroking long and deep. He drags his cockhead against the sweet spot along your walls and revels in the long moan that you let out. He picks up his pace a little at a time, until he’s thrusting quickly in and out, still dragging along your sweet spot. 
“Klaue!” 
“Feel so fucking good gripping my cock like that Queenie.” He growls in your ear. 
He can feel you nearing your orgasm, that way your pussy is clenching around his cock.
“Look at me.” You hadn’t realized that your eyes had closed, but you open them at his command. “Good, so good. Keep looking. I want your eyes on me as you come apart.” 
“So demanding.” You snark softly, but there’s no heat behind it. 
He chuckles and shifts forward to press down against you, his elbows bracketing your face. He gently traces the curve of your face with his fingertips. 
“Go on, do it. Soak my cock. Let me feel you when you come.”
“Klaue.” 
“I know.” He pumps his cock, drawing out the pleasure. “Give it to me.” 
The insistence in his voice, the press of his coarse curls against your clit, the feeling of his cock pumping deep inside you, it all swirls together to send you over the edge. You come apart, your pussy clenching tightly around his cock, his name on your lips. He swears and pushes back his own orgasm. He watches the pleasure cross your face, the way your eyes slide half shut and your lips part. He’s seen some of the most beautiful art in the world and yet none could compare to you in this moment. 
“Queenie.” He says as you come back to yourself. 
You smile hazily at him. “That was better than any fantasy. But now I think it’s my turn.” 
“Your turn?” 
Your hazy smile turns a little sharp at the edges. You shoot up and roll, forcing him onto his back. You sink back down on his cock before he can object, your hands finding purchase on his chest. His hands come to your hips, holding on tightly as you begin to ride. 
It’s slow at first as you adjust to the new angle, but quickly you find your rhythm. He watches you as your head falls back, reveling in the pleasure. His hands slide up your sides, his fingers tips teasing along the way. It sends pleasure shivering across your skin. He cups your breasts, toying gently with your nipples. 
You trace the lines of his tattoo as you ride harder. You can feel a second orgasm starting to rise in your core, but you stave it off for now. 
“Queenie.” He gasps, the sound music to your ears. 
You smirk down at him, watching the way those gorgeous blue eyes start to go hazy with his own pleasure. You cup one of his cheeks, your thumb caressing his face. Klaue rolls his head and sucks your thumb into his mouth. He sucks hard at the digit, letting his tongue work up and down the length. He lets it slide out of his mouth with a pop and plants both hands on your hips firmly. His grip forces you to still and he’s quick to replace the motion with his own. He rocks his hips up, hard and fast, setting a brutal face. You answer with a gasp and hands scrabbling over his chest. He grunts when your nails dig in, but he only pumps his hips harder in response. 
“What do you want Queenie?”He demands, “You want me to fill this sweet pussy up? Or do you want me to paint you with my cum?” 
“Fuck.” Your rapidly approaching orgasm makes it hard to think. 
“That’s not an answer,” He teases.
“Klaue!” 
“You want me to decide?” He smirks up at you, “Are you going to come for me again?”
“Yes!” 
He can feel the tightening in his core that signals his own end approaching. 
“Klaue!” Nothing has ever sounded sweeter than you sobbing his name. 
“Come on Queenie.” He drops one hand down so he can circle your clit. 
It doesn’t take long and you're coming hard, head thrown back, screaming his name. He holds his own orgasm off until you start to come down and then he flips you. You land on your back and he’s already shifting, one hand stroking his cock. His warm spend pumps out, landing all over your stomach and breasts. He’s breathing hard when he meets your gaze and he smirks. 
“Klaue,” You start and he shakes his head. 
“Not done yet, Queenie.” He sees the surprise in your eyes, “I did promise you the best night of your life. We still have hours left and I plan to take full advantage of that time.”
“Oh,” You grin at him, “Well in that case, I have some thoughts.”
He moves to sit at the head of the bed and pulls you with him. You settle in his lap, arms coming to rest on his shoulders. 
“Tell me all about them.” 
“I’m glad I anted up.” You kiss him, feeling the heat in your core starting to simmer. 
No pressure tags: @eupheme
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tarrenterror25 · 1 year
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Andy Serkis Breaks Down His Most Iconic Characters | GQ
Ulysses Klaue in Black Panther
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GQ Interview with Andy Serkis
That last bit tells me he MUST know he’s fine and knows what he looks good in 😩✨💕 Y’all can’t convince me otherwise ✋✨
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aintinacage · 20 days
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Tony Stark used to say that.
William Shakespeare’s Avengers (Part 45/?)
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minilev · 11 days
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I think if you drew Klaue I would explode. No pressure, of course! There are so many movies, though I won't admit how many times I've watched just his scene in Age of Ultron and the first half of Black Panther. 😂
And seconding anon, I think about that Alfred art frequently - your style is incredible, and you captured him so beautifully. 😍
Thank you for pointing out which parts to watch - by now all these movies mashed into something incomprehensible in my head!
I don't understand Klaue's design downgrade though. He also changed as a character, in Black Panther he is always yelling and acting like a clown, i wouldn't recognize him as a sneaky dealer who manipulated Wanda with cuttlefish idea. One could argue that losing an arm and instantly becoming a billionare can change personality, but what is this then
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Marvel's usual bullshit. The suit looks nice, but I'm definitely not drawing that ugly-ass prosthetic arm😄
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[ Part One ] - [ Part Two ] - [ Part Three ] - [ Part Four ] - [ Part Five ] - [ Part Six ] - [ Part Seven ] - [ Part Eight ]
Fiiiiinally starting to gif "Black Panther". I'll link them all together as they're posted (and I think I'm going to create a masterlist for all my other gifs as well), but here we go. 🫠
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eupheme · 8 months
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— kitten’s got klaue(s)
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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?)
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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.”
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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.”
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I have been chipping away at this since December - if you made it this far, thank you so much! 🥺💖 hope you liked this!
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tarabyte3 · 6 months
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I made some Andy Serkis blorbo themed autumn/horror moodboards for spooky season. 🎃🍁🔪🩸🧡
PART 2
(Note: These are all far more horror/spooky themed than part 1)
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Ulysses Klaue, Age of Ultron (2015)
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Ulysses Klaue, Black Panther (2018)
**I had to make 2 for Klaue. His vibes are so different in both films that it was the only way I could wrap my head around it
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Caesar, The Planet of the Apes Trilogy
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Glen, Wild Bill (2011)
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Lumpy, King Kong (2005)
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Hoodwink, Sugarhouse (2007)
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Ghost of Christmas Past, A Christmas Carol (2019)
PART 1
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