#laszlo kreizler x reader smut

[mypoisonedvine]

𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 | laszlo kreizler x reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 | being a traditional, well-behaved woman, you saved yourself for marriage. but the things your new husband has planned for you are... less than traditional, and might just show how poorly behaved you can be.

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | over 9k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | SMUT (18+ only!!), virginity loss, age gap (unspecific; laszlo is in his 40s, reader is probably 20-25), multiple orgasms/overstimulation, fingering, oral f receiving, squirting, shy/innocent reader, religious reader (but nothing tooo shame-y or anything), some innocence kink, a hint of medical kink?, slightly pervy laszlo?!?! (moreso he's just a wee bit of a weirdo and says some cringe stuff but like. that's just his vibe sorry)

Laszlo was such an impossible paradox of a man.  Especially compared to the sort of man you always thought you’d marry— what you’d been raised for, even.

An accomplished doctor, a successful and wealthy man of high social standing— a kind, sensitive, intelligent, and patient partner who made you feel beautiful and special and, for lack of a better word, fancy.  That part was exactly as you’d always imagined for yourself, though you had never really believed you could find someone so wonderful.

And then there was the other half of him, the pieces that even in your wildest dreams you would’ve never thought would make up your future husband.  First of all, he was quite a bit older than you.  Even your parents, who had always preferred for you to marry someone already established (as they put it) rather than your own age, were a little concerned that he was in his mid-forties, and only a year younger than your father.  Of course, that was nothing compared to their offense at his profession, and the subsequent open-mindedness he had towards people your parents would rather pretend didn’t exist.  Then again, Laszlo himself having his disability made him the sort of person they would rather pretend didn’t exist, though he’d managed to hide it relatively well.

Maybe they could’ve forgiven any of that.  It was the atheism that put the final nail in the coffin, unfortunately… and someone as brash and unapologetic as Laszlo had no interest in hiding his beliefs to appease your parents.  He hadn’t brought it up, of course, or protested to the crucifixes and cross-stitched scriptures on the walls; but when they’d asked if he was Catholic or Protestant, he told them directly that he was a man of science and didn’t entertain any metaphysical notions or, as he’d so thoughtfully put it, fantasies.

They instantly forbade the courtship and warned you never to see him again.  And maybe that was when he surprised you most— he was so romantic, so… dashing.  He took a carriage to your home and literally threw pebbles at your window, daring you to climb down the lattice and join him for a midnight adventure.  It was then he suggested that you marry him anyways— he had more than enough to take care of you after a disownment from your parents.  He promised to give you anything you wanted, to treat you perfectly, to spend every day trying to keep you as happy as you made him without even trying.

There it was again, the contradictory enigma of Laszlo Kreizler.  A serious, even stern man, proposing to you like a lovestruck teenager.  He had eschewed fantasies a few evenings ago only to turn around and ask you to jump headfirst into a fairytale.

You said yes, though.  You really didn’t think twice about it— you knew he would be good to you.  And you knew you’d never loved someone like you’d loved him before.

You wanted to run away right then and there, but he told you to go home for a few more days, to gather your things— he would send for them while your parents were out, and you could move in with him as soon as you were ready.

When you did move in, though, he seemed a little surprised that you asked for your things to be moved to a spare bedroom.

“Is everything alright?” he asked you softly, stepping closer to you as you crossed your arms over yourself nervously; you waited until you were sure Cyrus was out of earshot, carrying your bags away, before you answered.

“Yes,” you replied quietly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s understandable if you’re feeling conflicted now,” Laszlo assured.  “Having just left your parents, and not knowing if you’ll see them again—”

“It’s not that,” you promised.  “Well— of course, I feel something about that, but I’m happy to be here with you.  That’s not my issue at all.”

“Then what is?” he pressed.  “I hope you feel that you can tell me.”

You sighed as he reached up to brush your cheek; his touch always soothed you, though it felt a bit different here, in his home.  Your new home.  “I just… wouldn’t feel right about being in your room, until we’re married.”

He nodded.  “Of course.  I shouldn’t have presumed.”

You smiled a little, though it was more out of nervousness than anything.  “I… I wondered if you thought my parents were the only reason that we never— that nothing had—”

“Shh,” he soothed, pushing your hair back from your face until you looked up at him.  “I don’t expect anything from you now.  Well, only that you do whatever you like to make yourself feel at home here.”

“And what… what will you expect from me once I am your wife, Dr. Kreizler?” 

Though you were a little afraid to, you met his gaze; his brown eyes seemed deeper than ever, and you were powerless to look away from them.  “What do you think is right to give me, when you are my wife?”

You sighed a little, feeling his hand on your cheek move carefully down to your neck, his gentle fingers brushing along the smallest part of your collarbone exposed by your dress.  Words escaped you; you wanted him to know that just because you wanted to wait for him didn’t mean you didn’t want him.  Even before, even when you first met him, your mind had supplied you with thoughts that sent you straight to the confession booth.

You wanted to be one with him in every way you could think of… you just needed some to come before others, to feel right with your own beliefs.  Even if you loved an atheist, and felt surprisingly little guilt for it, you were still religious yourself and wanted to honor God’s intention for marriage.  

Didn’t mean you couldn’t yearn for your soon-to-be husband, right?  It certainly didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the full benefits of physical intimacy when the time came.

But obviously, you were far from brave enough to say all that.  Instead, you found your hands wandering to his chest, following the pattern of his suit coat up to his shoulders, biting your lip without even realizing it.  He simply continued to watch you, and you got the feeling that he understood you better than you could explain it yourself.  One of the bonuses of being loved by an expert on the human mind, perhaps.

You were almost in a trance, not noticing how long you were spending just gently touching and holding him in this simple way— until you looked up and met his gaze again, and felt a little weak.  “Can we marry soon?” you asked softly, almost under your breath.  You hoped he wouldn’t tease you, you weren’t secure enough for him to mock your obvious eagerness, to call attention to your desire for him.  Thankfully, he stayed perfectly serious, because he was just as affected as you were.

“As soon as you like,” he replied earnestly.

It was probably for the best that Cyrus walked in to the parlor at that moment, and you instinctively pulled back from Laszlo, crossing your arms again.  “Your bags are in the downstairs bedroom, madam,” he informed you, “down the hallway under the stairs.”

You nodded at him as Laszlo responded, “Thank you, Cyrus.  That will be all.”

He left, and you looked at your fiance again, feeling a bit silly for what he’d seen in you a moment before.  But he smiled at you, and you figured he’d be the last person to judge you for any of that.  “I’ll give you a little time to unpack and freshen up, if you like,” he offered.  “I hope you’ll join me for dinner at seven this evening.  I believe we’ll be having quail.”

“Of course— thank you,” you smiled, watching him begin to turn to depart.  But for a second, he hesitated— like he didn’t want to leave you— and you prayed he wouldn’t kiss you.  It’s not that you didn’t want him to… you wanted him to more than anything.  He’d only kissed you once before, at the end of a particularly exhilarating night out together, and you hadn’t stopped thinking about it for a moment since.

So no, it wasn’t that you didn’t want him to kiss you.  It was only that, if he did, you knew you’d have trouble letting it be just a kiss.

Therefore, you were just as relieved as you were disappointed when he departed without incident.

///

A few days later, you eloped.  You hadn’t felt much urge to have a ‘proper’ wedding when no one you knew approved of the marriage anyway— they were all too deep in your parents’ pocket, unfortunately.  And even if anyone cared enough to come, Laszlo refused to be wed in a church (you thought maybe he would bend on it if you really begged, he was overall quite accommodating to you, but it wasn’t worth your trouble) and so it would’ve just been another scandal.  

Truly, you were just as happy this way— it was the happiest day of your life, really.  You left the courthouse as Mrs. Kreizler, wearing a stunning silver band he’d had engraved with your new initials and flowering vines all around in a swirling, whimsical pattern.  His band was simpler, but you loved it even more— just because it was his, and seeing him wearing it made your heart skip all day.

Anticipation for your wedding night only grew with every passing moment.  Laszlo himself was in the bathroom with the door shut— you heard the sink running, the various sounds of him preparing for bed.  You were just trying to get your heart to slow down, trying not to have any specific goals or expectations for the evening.  Today had already been perfect.

But, of course, it was hard not to imagine what was next for the two of you— your things had already been moved into his room.  A vanity had been placed in it as well, a wedding gift from Sara Howard (a friend of Laszlo’s you had become acquainted with during this whirlwind romance), and you were using it now as you prepared yourself for bed.  You were already in your nightgown, having changed after Laszlo left the room (not that you had to, but it felt more natural that way), and you were carefully unpinning your hair from its meticulous style.

As you concluded the final steps of your evening routine, you saw the bathroom door open behind you in your reflection; your husband emerged, wearing an embroidered silk robe that offered a view of a sliver of his chest— not very much, but more than you’d ever seen.  You didn’t notice the way your thighs pressed against each other more tightly; he approached you slowly, and you eventually turned to look at him directly.  With you still sitting on the vanity’s padded stool, he towered over you when he stood close… and as you lifted your head to look up at him, his hand brushed softly along your jaw.  You tilted into his touch just a bit, smiling at him while your heart fluttered.

“You’re so beautiful, mein Schatz,” he whispered, and you felt a little giddy when he talked like that— he’d only ever indulged you in his German after having a few drinks, so this instance caught you off-guard in the best way.  Not to mention he’d called you Schatz before— treasure, apparently, and a common term of endearment— but he’d never tagged it with mein before.  And you were his, truly.  You were glad he’d waited to say it until it was actually true (even if, in a certain sense, it was already true before).

He motioned, rather subtly, for you to stand up.  It seemed simple enough, but you felt a little shaky as you did it— a nervous excitement, like the kind you would feel before a piano recital or debutante ball.  Except those were all public engagements, and this was as private as anything could be.

Touching your face again, he wove his fingers back around your neck, his thumb cradling your jaw right in front of your ear.  And he kissed you— just like that, quick at first but then slowing down as you both sighed a bit.

You admired how easily he’d done it, and thank god for it, because you would’ve spent quite a while working up the courage.  This was different from the night you’d kissed him after a few weeks of seeing each other— it was very different from the kiss you’d shared at the courthouse earlier that day.  It would’ve made sense if there was a sense of neediness to it, as if he were making up for lost time or relieving all the anticipation for this night.  But really, it was all rather relaxed, at least on his part.  Like he had all the time in the world: which, you know, he did.

You, on the other hand… you were feeling a bit more out of your element.  Not that you weren’t enjoying this new one so far, it was just a little unfamiliar.

His hand floated lower and traced down your back— delicately, with the tips of his fingers brushing your skin through the thin fabric until chills started to run over you.  You gasped a little into the kiss, and put your hands on the patterned lapels of his robe; you didn’t actually push him away, but he pulled back as if you had, examining your face carefully for a moment.

You hadn’t needed him to stop, but you were a little glad he did: just a moment’s break from it all before it became overwhelming.  His fingers still traced gentle shapes on your lower back through the nightgown, and you found your gaze drifting to his chest, to your hands resting on it— and your own fingertips ventured into the exposed piece of his chest.  His skin was paler here, with a reddish-blondish patch of hair just starting to be visible.  You touched it, taking a quick and shaky breath, and wondered why something inside you tightened as you pet him here.  He was so… masculine.  His looks weren’t sweet and boyish, no: he was broad and strong (he would deny that one if you said it, but to you he was) and sharp around the edges, and it was something you never expected to excite you so much.

But you loved that you could still feel a bit of friction from his beard after he’d kissed you.  You loved the subtle scent of his cologne, how sturdy he felt under your touch.

Your hands drifted up to his face, fingers brushing through his hair slowly, and he smiled at you.  His hair was just a bit long for what was typical of men these days, and you enjoyed combing through the dark brown locks and noticing the little golden highlights in the dimmed light of the room.

The hand on your hip pulled you closer, pressing your body against his, and you tried your best to relax into the warm strength of his form while your heart kept racing.

When he kissed you again, he moved in slowly, watching your face before his own eventually met with it, and you fluttered your eyes shut as his lips gently pressed to yours.  This time, you found yourself leaning in for more, kissing him back with more passion; you let out a little dampened moan when his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, taking the next opportunity to gently move further into your mouth.  

He broke away all too soon, embracing you even tighter, pressing his cheek to yours.  And when you, in turn, wrapped your arms around him and pressed yourself against him everywhere you could… you felt it.

Even if you had very little knowledge about this sort of thing, you understood what that hard, curved shape was, pressed just above where your hip met your stomach.  You knew what it was, and your body did too— heat pooled at your core, every touch awakening you even more.

“Oh,” you sighed shakily, holding tighter onto him to just have something to hold onto.

“It's alright,” he whispered, soft words floating on his breath which tickled under your ear.  “It's alright, my darling, I won't hurt you.”

You hummed softly in return, nodding as his lips brushed over your cheek, then moved to your neck.  “I know,” you replied.  “I trust you, Laszlo.”

But you couldn't help but gasp when his tongue teased your pulse, his teeth gently grazing the most delicate places they could find.  His grip at your waist tightened when you whimpered.  “Is this pleasurable to you?” he asked softly; even such a formal statement made you shudder when he said it in that low, buttery voice…

You nodded, your back arching slightly to press yourself against him, but you felt him smile against you suddenly.

“I'd like for you to say it,” he explained, an unfamiliar darkness to his voice.

“It's… pleasurable,” you panted.  “When you kiss me there… it's like I feel every touch s-somewhere else—”

“Where, my love?”

“Here,” you sighed, grabbing his hand from your back and moving it between your legs.  He instantly cupped and rubbed your mound, and your knees nearly buckled from the pleasure.

“Mein Gott, you're so sensitive,” he observed, his own voice sounding a little strained, “I've hardly touched you.”

“L-Laszlo, just touch me more,” you pleaded.

Though he’d been so careful until that moment, he suddenly started to pull up the skirt of your nightgown rather hastily, nostrils flaring as he bent down slightly and worked to hoist the fabric up.  Finally, he got under it, but teased you by rubbing and groping at your thighs instead; under his breath, you just barely heard a growl before he began to kiss your neck again.

“Even if both my hands were strong, I'd wish for more to touch you with,” he mumbled against your skin.  “I'd still want to cover you entirely, reach every part of you at once.”

Well, you liked the sound of that, but one hand was doing you plenty of good already— especially when it slid back up to cup you again, making you sigh and moan as his fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your abundant wetness all around.

Desperate to return even a portion of the sensation he was giving to you, you placed your hand against the bulge in his trousers.  Though the shape and firmness of him made you gasp excitedly, he only let you rub it for a few moments before sighing and moving your hand away.  “Not yet, my darling,” he instructed.  “It's best if we take this one step at a time, for now.”

You felt a little silly, having to be held back like that, but you nodded.  He obviously knew better than you about all this.

It was almost too much, the way he was touching you: you had your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders to try to keep yourself upright, frankly.  And yet, for how overwhelming it was, you heard yourself saying—

“More, please,” you begged, “I-I need you, just give me more, please—”

“I will,” he promised roughly, “but not here.  I think it’s only right that I take you to bed, hm?”

If you weren’t all worked up, you might’ve made some witty comment about how at least the bed’s not too far or whatever— but no, you just let him guide you the few steps to the mattress, and you sat on it as you simply awaited further orders.  So little that he’d done to you, and you’d already do whatever he asked in exchange for continued attention.

You watched him roll up his sleeve— it took him a little while with the weaker hand, but you didn’t mind letting this moment last— and didn’t even notice the way your mouth had gone slack, you were nearly salivating.  “Lay back, darling,” he instructed simply, still looking at his sleeve as he finally folded it up to his elbow, “and open your legs.”

You obeyed, of course, and bit absent-mindedly on your lip as you slowly lifted your knees and parted your thighs.  There was no point being shy now, of course— and you were more than eager for him to get back to doing what he had been before— but you still felt a nervous hesitance that made your hands (and heart) shake slightly.  Something about stopping to get in the bed had brought a bit of sobriety to the moment, and you realized in retrospect how desperate you must have looked.  Surely he wouldn’t hold that against you…

He lifted your skirt again, up to your hips, and hummed lowly at the sight of your sex.  Your face burned hotter; you liked the way he touched it, but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable with him… staring at it.

Still, it was the sort of slight discomfort that felt oddly… good?  Yes, you were a bit embarrassed and exposed at the moment, but it felt wrong in that fun, naughty sort of way; it made your hips shift a little, presumably in hopes of some friction.  Thankfully, their wish was answered: his hand was on you again, pulling your lips apart, slowly exploring you until your eyes fluttered shut.

“May I touch you inside as well?” he asked— as if there was any risk of you turning that offer down.

“Y-yes, Laszlo, please,” you whispered, whimpering as you felt the tip of his pointer finger— suddenly it seemed a little thicker than you remembered— press up to your entrance and ever so gently slide inside.

“Just one to start,” he narrated softly as that one finger made your toes curl, only one finger making your hips twist and your back arch.  How could he do that to you so easily?  “And my thumb can help with this lovely little organ you have…”

His thumb circled your bud, and you shuddered all over— even inside— and instantly struggled to catch your breath.  “Laszlo, what… what is that…” you breathed, whimpering when he rubbed it again.

“Your clitoris, my love— you’ve never touched here before?”

He should’ve known you hadn’t— even if you had… explored yourself out of childish curiosity probably a decade ago, you would’ve remembered if it felt like this.  Shaking your head, you were surprised by his little growl.

“Your poor girl,” he cooed, something a little attractive about the slight condescension of it.  “You have so much to learn.  I can’t even imagine the things you’ve never felt before…”

He slowly moved the pad of his thumb up and down over the flesh, which only grew firmer as he continued.  “Oh!” you whimpered, hips rocking back against his touch— it was so wild of you, you thought, but you couldn’t really stop yourself.  He pressed harder and your whole body jumped.  “Fuck!”

He laughed a little, and your face got warmer.  “I’ve never heard you use language like that, Schatz, but it sounds impossibly adorable when you say it.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you began, “I couldn’t help it—”

“No, don’t apologize,” he insisted, “I’d rather you said it again.  Whenever you can’t help it, of course.”

You knew that Laszlo knew more than you about many topics, being a highly-educated man of great intellect, but you hadn’t expected him to introduce you to an entirely new body part that you’d been carrying with you this whole time.  If you’d figured out how to do anything like this to yourself, you might have spent your entire adolescence trapped in your room, so maybe it was for the best that you never put it together.

You weren't sure how any woman was meant to learn these things— you figured she wasn't meant to, unfortunately— but if she had a choice, you'd certainly recommend this method, provided she could find her own husband to try it with rather than borrowing yours.  What a visceral and beautiful way to learn how much that little organ could really do: Laszlo rubbing it with his thumb, with just the right amount of pressure to make a loud moan crawl out of you.

“The noises you make are just delightful, my darling,” he praised.  “Keep going, so I know what I should do.”

“Just do that,” you begged, “just keep doing that.”

“Only this?” he pressed.  “I shouldn't even add another finger?”

Of course, that was when he did— gently pressing his middle finger to your opening until it accommodated it, and you heard your own high-pitched whine in disbelief that you'd made the sound.  “F-fuck, that feels… Laszlo, you're so—”

But you interrupted yourself, because he did something so diabolical with his fingers just then.  He'd only twisted and scissored them inside you for a moment before curling them up, rubbing the most delicate place you never knew you had— just as he pushed down harder on your poor clit.  You felt ravenous all of a sudden, terribly overwhelmed but greedy for more.

“Please, oh god, please—” you started to beg before you even knew what you wanted.  He knew what you wanted, and he gave it to you: more.  It wasn't even very significant of a movement, and yet it turned your whole body into his plaything as you started to shake all over.

“You react more than I ever expected, my darling,” he cooed.  “I never dreamed how well you would respond to my touch.  I've only just begun and I think you're already nearly there.”

Before you could wonder where he was talking about, he pulled his fingers out of you carefully.  You heard yourself whimper a little, opening your eyes and looking at him worriedly.  He smiled, seeming to enjoy how much his interruption seemed to bother you; “Take off your nightgown, my love,” he requested plainly.  “I think I’d like to get a good look at you before I go on.”

Sitting up (and finding your head a bit more dizzy than you expected), you started by unbuttoning from your neck halfway down to your chest, before lifting the thin garment up over your head slowly.  You felt so strange doing this— undressing in front of a man— but your heart pounded with hope that he would enjoy what he saw.  Tossing the dress aside, you sheepishly bit your lip and waited for his assessment as his dark brown eyes grazed over your nude form.

He moved a little closer, his hand running up your leg and then around your side, reaching up to carefully cup one of your breasts.  You breathed deeply but unevenly, your chest rising and falling against his touch.  You were almost nervous that he hadn’t said anything yet, but the look in his eyes just became more and more clear; you whimpered under your breath when his fingers brushed over your hardened nipple, ever-so-delicately pinching it until your hips shifted a bit in response.  “How beautiful you are, my love,” he whispered, making you squirm again with just his words.  “Is it true you’re really my wife?  This lovely, delicate body that only I can touch and caress, laying next to me every night… I don’t know when I’ll really believe it.”

You had to shut your eyes for a second— you might be too brash if he kept on like that, praising you so tenderly.  “You could’ve been a poet,” you told him with a little smirk, blinking open your eyes again as he guided you to lay back once more, “if medicine didn’t suit you.”

“Oh, I’m no poet, Schatz,” he smiled in return, taking one more careful squeeze of your other breast before moving down to pet inside your legs again.  “All I am is painfully honest.”

His fingers slid inside you again, and you could’ve sworn he was rubbing inside you a bit more firmly than he had been before— thrusting a little faster, pushing a little deeper.  And all the while he was staring down at you, back and forth between your face and your hole, with a delicious darkness in his eyes.

It was still a patient endeavor, so much so that you never really noticed that he was getting a little quicker and rougher with it.  You really didn’t figure it out until you heard yourself choking out his name, groaning and gasping louder than you meant to— but you couldn’t suppress it very well, either.

You soon began to realize what he meant before with that nearly there comment, without even having any prior knowledge of what it could be… there was something instinctive about it, something totally natural.  You didn’t know what was coming, but you understood it; you knew you were on the edge of something and that if you could just get there it would be perfect.

Still, you couldn’t have known how much you would enjoy it.

You couldn’t stop moaning— it was this all-surrounding, ecstatic feeling, like… sinking into something.  Relaxing into something… something warm and soft and good.  Even a lifetime of religious repression couldn’t convince you this was anything but perfect.  Actually, nothing had ever felt right quite the way this did.

Your back arched rather dramatically, until you had a good view of the headboard upside-down; and he gave you few more fast, rough pumps of his fingers into your shaking body before slowing down to a stop and letting you rest.

Suddenly drained, you melted back down onto the bed with a long whine.  “How did that feel?” he asked, sounding a little formal about it, and you only could muster a little, exhausted laugh because what did he think you were going to say?  ‘It was alright, tickled a little bit, but I didn’t mind it.’

“That was… you… you’re so—” you began a few times, giving up to open your eyes wide when his fingers pet up and down over the seam of your lips, gently exploring you, making you quiver from how sensitive you’d become.  You weren’t even done recovering from the stimulation and he was giving you more; he seemed sort of absent-minded about it, the way he gently and repetitively slid up and down and up and down through your slick and swollen folds… but it was deliberate, you knew it was, because he smiled when you moaned weakly.

One finger pressed inside you again, and he watched your face closely and you shuddered.  You were just the slightest bit sore, and it felt like that one finger was more of a stretch than before… which seemed impossible, but with the erratic pulsing of your walls, it was a little hard to keep track.

You gasped sharply when he put the second finger in you once more, almost snarling a bit as he watched you react so strongly.  “Laszlo, I— I don't think I can do that again—”

“You can, I'm sure of it,” he encouraged, curling his fingers inside of you, which required a bit more force with your channel bearing down against him in response.  “It might even come faster this time, that little spot is all swollen now—”

Before he could finish that sentence, he proved it by circling the place, making your hips jump up as another whine eked out of you.  “O-oh, I— fuck…”

He smirked a bit, a delicious smugness to his expression, and the emotion looked much too good on him.  “See?  Just let me take control, my love.  I think you'll like what I do, if you simply let me do what I like with you.”

Fuck, that had to be the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard.  You were biting your lip to try to keep back the flood of terribly embarrassing things your pleasure wanted to say for you: you can do whatever you like with me; I'm yours; I'd do anything for you; don't ever stop, but also if you don't fuck me soon I might lose my mind, you know, things of that nature.  Instead you let out a muffled moan, and nodded to make sure he knew that he had your permission for whatever he thought was best.

And, of course, he’d been right about you: that you’d be even more sensitive after coming, and would be able to go through it all over again.  It only took probably a minute or two of dedicated, precise stimulation for the feeling to grow again… except it felt a little stronger this time, like it was building past the point that it had broken at before.  Maybe your tolerance was higher, or something?  You really weren’t qualified to say— all you could think about was this sensation, this tension, and the way he looked at you as you started to shake all over.

Your eyes fell shut instinctively, your shaking hands clutching at the bed under you; you felt sort of numb all over, except instead of everything being dulled and distant, it was only heightened.

“O-oh, oh, Laszlo, I—” you tried to warn him, words escaping you as the heavy, almost sharp feeling gathered tighter and tighter…

“Give into it,” he insisted, “it’s alright— I want to see it.  I want to hear you, I want to feel you when you come—”

His voice was getting darker, rougher, more demanding as he went on; and in the same way, his fingers’ thrusts into you became more aggressive.  “Fuck, I— I think I’ll— oh god!” you yelped.

“Yes,” he encouraged, “let go, darling!”

Your arms flailed around for a second before finding a lump in the sheets to grab onto tightly, your hips rocking against his hand, your head falling back in a scream; it was so intense, and so sudden, and you felt like the pressure that had been building broke so violently that it would’ve been painful without all the ecstasy running through your veins, numbing you inside and out.

You could tell that this one was different— hotter, warmer, wetter— but you had no idea what you’d done until the high had started to fade just a bit.

His hand slowed down to a stop, you heard him quietly catching his breath, and you blinked your eyes open… that’s when you noticed small wet stains on his rolled-up sleeve, and shiny fluid along his forearm— and a very proud grin on his face.

You felt your eyes go wide and your cheeks start baking.  He spoke up before you could even try to process what to say: “That was excellent, my love— I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so magnificent,” he praised.  “You’re incredible.”

You wanted to believe him, but it didn’t really offer much explanation.  “Laszlo, I… did I—?”

“No, darling, don’t worry,” he cooed, scooting a little closer on the bed as he pet the inside of your thigh.  “It’s natural— one of the… rarer ways that a woman’s body can respond to stimulation.  I’ve always found the concept fascinating, but until now, my knowledge was… purely theoretical.  Actually, I’d love to gather your perspective on the experience, possibly for a future research paper on the topic— but that’s an issue for another time.  There’s a more pressing matter I need to discuss with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious what matter could be discussed in a time like this.

“I… I'd like to try something else,” he announced, and you dropped your head back on the bed in a sort of defeat.

“Something else?!” you whimpered, still catching your breath from the last thing he had “tried”.  “What else could there be but making love?”

“That will be soon, I promise, I just… I can't resist such an opportunity,” he explained.  “Your scent is so erotic, and it's only grown stronger now that you’ve so generously covered my arm in your ecstasy.  And with anything that smells so delectable, one can't help but crave to taste it.”

You'd only heard about this before— sort of a dirty schoolyard secret, almost an urban legend.  The whole thing had always sounded odd to you, if maybe not as icky as you thought it was when you first had the concept whispered to you as a child.  You didn't realize it was actually something you might experience someday, assuming it was a practice reserved to the especially perverted.  Now that he was offering it, you found yourself biting your lip as you tried to imagine what it would be like.

“I'd like to pleasure you with my mouth,” he concluded, really spelling it out for you.  “Would that be alright?”

You weren't sure what to think of that, and yet you were already nodding yes.  This was your husband, after all— who else could you trust to do something like this?  Most of all, you did it because you wanted to please him.  Because he'd asked you for it.

He smiled a little when you agreed, and began to lean down between your legs.  Those deep brown eyes seemed to sparkle more than ever when he looked up at you, but his gaze couldn't stay with yours for long before he had to give a closer look to your cunt.  He carefully spread the lips with his fingers, humming at the sight.  “I wonder if it's even possible for you to be as delicious as you look,” he spoke quietly, and a needy whine caught in your throat.

It was just a gentle kiss to your clit first… then another, with his lips parted.  Then he started to ever-so-gently suckle at it, tongue softly petting it; he wasn't doing too much, physically, but you never could catch your breath while he was doing it.

You whined a bit when he broke away, looking down at him in search of an explanation but finding instead him looking back up at you with an indescribable look in his eye.

“How does that feel?” he asked, his voice rougher and darker than you'd ever heard it before, making you shiver gleefully.

“Wet,” you blurted out, making him smile a little, a small laugh on an exhale through his nose that made you feel a bit foolish in an unexpectedly pleasurable way.  “A-and warm… please don't stop, Laszlo, it felt so nice…”

He got back to it, a little more intensely than before, and your eyes rolled back when he really started to lap at you with his tongue— harder and wider each time, making you writhe from the intensity of it.

You couldn't even describe the sound you made when he pushed his tongue inside you.  He moaned against you in response to it, though, and thank God, he kept going.

He kept petting your thighs, even encouraging you when your legs clamped down around his head unintentionally; presumably that was his way of saying it wasn’t giving him any pain, which you were a bit concerned about, even if you couldn’t really stop yourself.  Sometimes you had the strength to meet his gaze, but most of the time you felt like you’d melt if you looked back at him— the way he was staring up at you was just too fiery, too intense, too beautiful.  

Just when you thought you were getting used to the pattern of his tongue’s movements on your clit, he gently pushed his two fingers back into your pulsing channel.  You were all tingly and sore inside, but a long, deep moan fell from your mouth as your back arched.

“Beautiful,” he praised, the word muffled by what he was doing— which he got back to more urgently than ever, twisting and thrusting his fingers inside you carefully at first.

“J-just like that,” you pleaded.  “Oh, Laszlo, I— I didn't know anything could… feel like this…”

You could feel the smallest smirk on his lips as he continued; even just being able to feel his smug smile there was such a lovely, erotic, totally novel concept to you.  

When he really buried his face in your legs, you could feel the roughness of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and buttocks, and god was it the most beautifully filthy feeling.  It was really an excellent metaphor for the whole thing: the symbol of his maturity, the well-kempt facial hair itself a balance between his wildness and his meticulous self-control, rubbing raw your delicate and untouched skin in such an intimate place.  If you weren’t too busy shaking and crying and seeing stars on this bed, you might have appreciated the beauty in those parallels, but clearly you weren’t capable of thinking about it to that level of depth.

The stream of helpless praises you'd been trying to hold back earlier?  There was absolutely nothing stopping it from spilling forward now.  “You're incredible,” you blurted out, your hand holding tighter to the sheets beneath you.  “Laszlo— my husband— you… you must be the devil, o-or an angel or prophet— or something. You make me feel things, such incredible things, that I didn't even know—”

He opened his mouth wide around you, breaking the seal of his lips so he could speak against your skin.  “I'm just a man,” he promised, “I'm just a husband becoming addicted to his new wife's pleasure, that's all, my dear.”

As he started to do it again so suddenly, you reacted suddenly as well: your hand found his hair and grabbed it, and your mind was too far gone to worry about it being too aggressive.  Not that he gave any signs of annoyance— if anything it was the opposite, as he lapped at you harder in response.  

This, of course made your hips jump up— until his hand slipped out of you, grabbing them and pulling them down, keeping you still as he continued.  The simple show of dominance affected you greatly, another heavy pulse of pleasure hitting you suddenly.

“I-I'm close,” you whispered.  “Laszlo, I'm so close— and it feels so different than before— I swear, nothing's ever felt so— fuck!”

He hummed encouragingly, and your whole body rocked in time with the growing pressure.  His fingers sliding back inside you, seeming to curl even more than before, certainly added to the sensation.

Just as you were teetering on the edge, his teeth grazed impossibly-carefully over you, a sharp and raw sort of pleasure jolting your entire body.  Of course, you couldn't fight against that, and the feeling inside you snapped as yet another flood of pleasure ripped through your body.  Your ears were ringing but you still heard how loud you must have been, how totally wrecked and helpless your moans had become.  

It wasn’t as… aggressive of a feeling as the one that had made you… you know… but it was probably the most powerful in its own way.  The highest, the heaviest, the most whole.  You couldn't hear him moaning against you through all that, but you could feel it: a deep and bassy vibration that only heightened the feeling even more.  Your moans turned to cries and then sobs; it was too much, the feeling was spilling over inside you— you weren't sure how much longer you could take it all before you broke.

It seemed, however, that he broke first; he pulled away and sat up, leaving you both panting, sweaty messes.  

“God, you're so beautiful,” he sighed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up into a filthy, heated kiss.  You surrendered instantly, grabbing into his shoulders with hands that were still pricked with pins and needles as your high dissipated slowly.  “I can't wait anymore,” he mumbled against your lips, “I need to be inside you.”

“Please,” you gasped softly— you'd been waiting for this all night, at least.  You'd never imagined yourself so eager, so desperate for it, though…

He made quick work untying his robe, leaning over you as he held tightly onto his cock and guided the swollen, leaking head between your lips.  Yes, even with desire coursing through your veins, a touch of anxiety was still present.  You just couldn’t imagine what this was going to be like, you could still hardly believe it was happening to you— and, though it was a bit crass to think, you were a bit surprised by the brief glance of his cock that you’d gotten.  You wouldn’t really know what was big or small or normal or abnormal when it came to that… you had nothing to compare it to.  What you did know was that it seemed much… thicker, than seemed appropriate to go inside you.  Of course you knew that a young woman’s first experience could be painful, you’d heard that bleeding was normal (if not expected, but that seemed a bit barbaric and certainly not what a progressive man like Laszlo was after) — yet, you still weren’t properly scared.  It was just the sort of anticipation that made you shiver and let out a long breath to compose yourself.

He groaned a little as he continued to rub against you, and you noticed the arm that held him up over you was shaking.  You could only imagine how frustrating it must have been to be giving you all that attention and not getting any in return for so long, and you could only hope he might take a little of that frustration out on you…

“Please,” you said again, quieter, as you looked up at him.  Thankfully, that was enough to make him press forward and slide into you all at once.

While his fingers had stretched you in such strange, sometimes overwhelming ways, his cock… it just fit.  It filled you exactly the way you needed— not too wide or too deep… though you suspected it would've been had he not prepared you so incredibly thoroughly.  And while his tongue has made you feel such unimaginable things, though his lips had effortlessly sucked ecstasy from your shaking body, having him inside you felt so simple and natural and easy.  

He hissed in his breaths as he moved— slow at first, but each one just a bit faster than the last.  Every movement stimulated all the places he'd already awoken inside you, and your legs moved on their own to latch around his hips while your head fell back with a satisfied sigh.

“My angel,” he groaned, staring down at you as each of his thrusts rocked you under him.  “I knew I— fuck, darling— I knew I'd have trouble keeping myself together when I was finally inside you.  Yet you're… you're even more perfect than I imagined.”

You smiled proudly, reaching up to hold his shoulders; he seemed encouraged by that, becoming just a bit rougher in his movements until your nails accidentally dug into his skin just a bit.

“I won't be able to last much longer,” he grunted, “but I-I can't stop.  I can't even slow down, I never… I've never lost control like this before.”

A shiver ran up your whole body, even seeming to make you clench inside— and he moaned in return, a beautifully pitiful sound.  

“I'm sorry,” he offered between panting breaths, and you barely mustered the energy to laugh. 

“Beloved, what do you have to apologize for?” you teased through a grin.  “Surely you're not worried that I will be left unsatisfied.”

“I would rather bring you to orgasm again,” he explained, “but I'm so desperate for you, I'm afraid I lack the patience for it.”

“I would rather pleasure my husband, for once,” you replied, “but you couldn't possibly feel what I felt, I don't think I'll ever be able to really return the favor—”

“It's no favor,” he insisted.  “Your pleasure is what I desire.  And a good wife gives her husband what he desires, no?”

You whimpered desperately, pathetically even.  “I'll be good for you, Laszlo,” you promised weakly, “I want to be a good wife to you…”

“You're a very good wife, my dear,” he assured.  “Look how much pleasure you've let me take from you, look how you've soaked our bed with your lovely nectar…”

You weren't sure which part of that aroused you the most… but our bed was a serious contender.

“And you taste absolutely divine,” he added, before kissing you again to let you taste it, too.  It was a sloppy and needy kiss, not precise and careful like basically everything else he'd done to you so far, but you loved it.  You loved any sign that he might be just as desperate as you.

Once again his speed and intensity picked up, until you could hear his skin hitting against yours loudly, and your back arched a bit at how perfectly dirty it felt.  His cock hit a spot deep inside you, and you sucked in a sharp breath.  “Laszlo,” you blurted out, and he groaned as he moved his kiss to your neck.  

“Keep saying my name,” he demanded.  “Tell me who your husband is— who makes you feel this way you've never felt before.”

“Laszlo,” you said again, “I'm yours.  Anything you want from me, it's yours.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a heavy sigh.

“Your wife, always,” you continued, and it made your own heart swell along with encouraging him: he moved faster, rocked deeper into you, and breathed heavy against your ear as your back arched from the erotic perfection of the moment.

“My wife,” he repeated, making you whine and nod and bear down on him with your walls.

“Yes,” you gasped, “yes— yours, I’m yours—”

“I-I can't hold back anymore,” he moaned, “I don't… I don't even know if I can bring myself to pull out before—”

“Don't,” you begged.  “I want it inside, Laszlo.  I want all of you inside me.”

“Oh, darling, mein Schatz, I—” he choked, but he never finished his sentence.  He just moaned louder and louder and fucked you faster and faster— until you were nearly screaming from how hard he hammered into you.

It stopped all at once; he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could, so deep you felt like you were struggling to breathe, and hid his face in the curve of your neck as he came inside you.

And for a long, beautiful moment, you just laid together; you were sort of halfway between awake and asleep, your whole body thrummed with emotions and sensations you never thought you could fit within yourself.  Time passed, surely, but you wouldn’t have known the difference.  His weight on top of you wasn’t too heavy, though it did keep you pressed into the mattress and sheets— not that you were going anywhere anyways.

You only really came back to reality when you felt small kisses trailing your neck; you hummed and squirmed a little beneath him, making you both groan as it stirred where you were connected.  He must have been a bit sore, too, though you felt like you’d been through quite a lot more and had a better excuse.

He moved again, just barely, and you winced as you held onto his back.  “Don’t go,” you whispered, afraid of the pain if he didn’t just stay still inside you.

“I have to, sometime,” he breathed in return.

“But—”

“I know, my love,” he cooed, “I’d stay inside you forever if I could.  But I’ll hurt you more if I don’t give you time to rest.”

Resigning yourself with a sigh, you nodded a little and scrunched up your face as he pulled his hips back.  It did sting, but it faded quickly once he was out— and the feeling was replaced with a warm, wet feeling that you realized must have been his seed leaking out of you.  It made you feel a bit dirty, but wonderful, too.

He laid beside you with a deep breath, his hand coming up to your face and turning it so you would look back at him.  You had to blink a few times to really see clearly, and even still, everything seemed a bit blurry around the edges.  The whole world seemed a bit softer, really.  “I love you, darling wife,” he told you simply, his voice soft but no longer a whisper, and he pet your cheek as he leaned in to kiss the bridge of your nose.

“I love you too, husband,” you cooed in reply.  “You’re so wonderful— a-and you’re nothing like I imagined, sometimes.”

“Perhaps I should have been more careful,” he offered nervously.

“No— that was perfect,” you promised.

“I meant the very end, there,” he clarified, his hand running down over your body and resting on your stomach.  “You might have wanted to wait longer… if you had a child so soon, you might wish we had more time just the two of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he meant.  “Oh, that…” you mumbled, smiling a bit to yourself.

“I fully intended to have my finish elsewhere, to lower the chances— I didn’t think I would become so… impulsive,” he sighed.  “I hoped to still control myself, but I’m afraid I wasn’t quite able to, once I was within you.  But I couldn’t help it, with the way you feel…”

“It’s alright,” you laughed weakly, “it’s not as if I were acting rationally.  I never… I didn’t think I could be so… so—”

A thousand words came to mind.  Unladylike.  Animalistic.  Desperate.  Insatiable.

“I didn’t think I’d ever act like that,” you said instead, voice getting a little softer as you felt a bit shy again.

“I knew you would,” he responded, making you look at him with wide eyes and warming cheeks.

“You— but I— I was always—!”

“Yes, you behaved very well each time I met you” he recalled with a proud smile, “always so sweet and well-mannered.  But I knew you had so much need within you, so much hunger… a being of pure instinct just waiting to take over when the time was right.”

Your heart skipped a beat— you felt a bit… accused by that statement, yet you couldn’t really deny it.  Even if you hadn’t known it before, it was clearly true now.  “How… how could you have sensed that?” you wondered.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you again; you loved the way he looked in that moment.  His expression was familiar, but the total lack of composure— flushed cheeks, sweat on his brow, messed hair— was totally new and quite pleasant.  “If you didn’t have any desire to misbehave, my darling, you wouldn’t have been going out with me.”

[multifandomfix]

Laszlo Kreizler Smut Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Lovingly whispered words and gentle caresses can almost always be expected from him after sex. He wants to be sure you’re treated like royalty.

B = Body part (favorite body part of their partner’s)

Your waistline/curves. Having his hands explore your midsection like he’s trying to memorize a map is just an exquisite experience for him.

C = Collar (do they mark you as theirs in some way?)

He will leave the occasional mark, sure, but nothing overtly obscene. Only something he can look at later to remind him of how you’re his.

D = Dominant (who is in control? are they a top or bottom?)

He tends to be more of a top, and leans also more towards the dominant side, but should you wish to take control, he’s usually agreeable to it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He has a bit of experience under his belt (pun slightly intended). He prides himself on learning from his partners and he’s an excellent student.

F = Fuck (do they prefer to fuck or make love?)

Laszlo falls right about in the middle. It’s almost entirely dependent on the amount of stress he needs relieved and if you’re feeling the same way as him or not. He always wants it to be pleasurable for you both.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s serious. Almost entirely so. He’s not the type to laugh when something unexpected happens. But on occasion you’re able to get him to lighten up.

H = Hot (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you see him looking at you as you absentmindedly touch your neck, you know you’ve got his attention. Showing a bit of extra skin, or slow, drawn out movements will have him squirming in his chair.

I = Insatiable (how do they act when they’re desperate to have you?)

He may tend to get overly romantic/poetic. He likes to lure you to bed with his words, make himself and what he can do to you sound absolutely irresistible.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s not overly inclined to tend to his own needs, as usually there are numerous other things occupying his mind. But if you’re away, and he’s caught up in thinking of you, then he certainly will indulge in the urge.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

After trying it out, Laszlo actually finds himself a bit into wax play. He loves to drip it on your skin and watch it travel across your body. And should you wish to use it on him, he’s alright with that too.

L = Location (favorite places to have sex)

Anywhere in the house, really. But only by windows if the curtains are drawn. He may like to have you in any room of the house, but the neighbors needn’t know that.

M = Mood (what’s the foreplay like? how do you get them in the mood?)

Heavy making out beforehand. You’re falling on the bed while still kissing him, half unclothed, then letting him undress you fully.

N = Naked (how do they undress? do they like to watch you undress?)

Laszlo is efficient at undressing. He makes quick enough work of it while also managing to turn you on even more just by watching him. He’s also got the same skill of undressing you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He doesn’t have much of a preference either way. Either is truly fine with him, but not his favorite bedroom activity by any means.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can get fast and rough, but he’s typically pretty restrained unless you’ve given him permission to be rougher.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He really won’t mind them every now and again if he simply can’t wait, but he doesn’t favor them as a rule.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He does experiment a bit. He treats new kinks and positions as an opportunity to learn and grow.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depending on the intensity, he can go up to three rounds on average.

T = Tryst (are they into casual sex or one night stands?)

No. Very much not. He thinks it unclean and he has an innate distrust for such encounters.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A little light teasing is certainly to be expected with Laszlo, but he won’t draw it out too long.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Laszlo is pretty quiet. He’s not a moaner or a screamer. The most noise he generally makes is whispering dirty things in your ear.

W = Wait (how long do they wait before having sex with their partner for the first time?)

A suitable amount of time. He’s good at reading people, so he’ll really only approach the subject when you’ve given him some indicators that fairly certainly let him know you’re ready to take that step.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s surprisingly fit. For a man so devoted to academic study, he has the body of an athlete. Wonderful strength in his muscle tone with a certain softness to him still.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Moderate. Maybe just a tiny bit less than the average man.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a bit to drift off. It’s definitely not immediate for him. He likes to live in the moment of it for as long as he can.

For 🐻 Anon

Forever Tag: @borg-queer, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @icetown587, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

A Sensual Education - Laszlo Kreizler

I learned a lot about clits for this fic, didn't realize how much people (mostly men) hated them. Everyone, go touch your clits, treasure them, they deserve it after people like Freud wanted to get rid of them cause they were too insecure of themselves and scared of women🙃

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), typical 19th century ideology, misogyny, religious guilt, pining, innocence kink, fingering, virginity loss, soft dom!Laszlo, consent is sexy, flufffff

3.4K Words🤙🏻

~~~~~~~~~~

From an early age, you were always taught that anything do to with sex was a sin. You weren’t really told why but it was an unspoken moral rule. 

Women weren’t allowed to have sex until after marriage and if the man wants it. Women were for men’s pleasure and to make babies; that was it. From an early age, you were always doubtful of this but you were always too scared to make your concerns known.

You had asked your mother about it after you started your courses, but you were immediately shut down and scolded for even thinking such a thing. So every time you had a question or concern, you always had to push it down and you never spoke about it.

Once, you had heard, in the middle of the night, your mother with your father in their bedroom, it sounded like they were both in pain. You peaked inside their room and what you saw shocked you to your core. It was not in fact your mother, but it was your father with another woman. It looked painful. Why would someone engage in such acts if it was painful? It didn’t make sense.

From an early age, you were already seeing contradictions from everyone and you didn’t know what to believe.

One night, you tried touching yourself, just out of curiosity. It felt…different, but good. Though you were too scared and embarrassed to continue. Surely, you were going to hell for what you did. You prayed for forgiveness, and you never touched yourself again.

You knew it would probably bring shame upon you and your family, but you had always wanted to pursue a career in psychology. The mind was fascinating, and you had always wanted to figure out what causes people to do what they do; why they lie, why they hurt others, why they are so insistent on following old rules. Doctor Laszlo Kreizler had been looking for someone to intern for him. Despite being a woman, the doctor seemed happy to welcome you to his team.

It was very early on when you started to see Doctor Kreizler in a different light, one that you had not seen anyone before. He was very handsome, even your mother had confessed that to you privately. But it felt different this time. You had crushes before, but you never thought to act on them. You just figured that your parents would find you a man to marry and that would be that, but thankfully they weren’t that old fashioned. You were allowed to choose someone for yourself if you wanted, and you found that Laszlo was someone you wanted very badly. Just one small problem: he was your boss and you had no idea if he’d ever feel the same way.

You’d feel embarrassed every time you interacted with him, which was a lot. You would have to really concentrate whenever he was teaching you what to do with certain patients, and you managed well enough. Sometimes you’d sit in on one of his counseling sessions to see what he does and how he goes about it, but his voice was so mesmerizing that you’d forget exactly what he had been saying. It was debilitating, your crush, always feeling such yearning whenever he caught your gaze; but you had to move on. It definitely would not be professional if you acted on your sinful feelings to him. 

Your lust got even worse when Laszlo started to get more touchy feely with you. He wasn’t inappropriate of course, just lingering touches here and there whenever you did a good job with the patients; but that was more than enough for your fantasies to run wild with false hope that he might’ve liked you back. He even insisted you call him by his first name, before you always addressed him as Doctor Kreizler. He unknowingly was only fanning the flames of your infatuation.

Your crush just kept growing stronger and stronger.

Finally, one day, one of the doctor’s other employee’s told you that he needed to see you in his office later that day. You were instantly worried, thinking you may have done a bad job or worse, he had found out about your crush on him. But the employee said you had nothing to worry about, telling you that you were the fastest learner they had ever seen. It lessened your nerves…only slightly. You’d just have to find out for yourself.

You decided to go to his office early, otherwise you’d be worrying yourself to death and you didn’t care much for that. But when you arrived, the doctor wasn’t there. Serves you right for being impatient, you supposed.

You waited in Doctor Kreizler’s office, twiddling your thumbs and failing to calm your nerves. So instead, you decided to look around, despite knowing you shouldn’t, but you didn’t know what else to do. 

Scanning his bookshelves absentmindedly, you came across a particularly eye-catching name. Kama Sutra? You let out an audible gasp as you saw the cover on the front of the book. It was a man and a woman being…intimate with each other. You tried not to judge, but what kind of deviant would keep a book like this? Despite your initial horror, you couldn’t help but skim through the pages, feeling yourself growing uncomfortably hot at the words and illustrations. There were words on those pages that you didn’t even have a clue what they meant, but they felt dirty regardless.

You were so enraptured by all this new information that you didn’t notice Doctor Kreizler walk in. You all but jumped out of your skin as you heard him clear his throat, looking at you expectantly. “Oh, Lord, I am so sorry, Doctor. I was just waiting for you to get back but this caught my eye, I didn’t mean to pry, I promise.” You rambled with a slight stutter, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest when Laszlo took the book from you with a ghost of a smile. “Please, sir, don’t tell anyone I was looking at this, if my parents found out, they’d throw me on the streets! I’ll pray for forgiveness!”

Laszlo gently shook his head, patting your shoulder reassuringly. “It’s quite alright, it’ll stay between us. Please, you don’t have to put on the pious act for me.”

You furrowed your brow, tilting your head slightly in confusion. “An act, sir? What do you mean?”

“The whole pretending that you think every single thing pertaining to sex is sinful and immoral.” He said with a brittle chuckle.

“It…it’s not?”

Laszlo froze, his eyes scanning your face for any indication that you were playing up the innocent act, but he didn’t find anything about your expression that would lead him to believe that you were lying. Were you actually this innocent? “You’ve never been taught about sex before? Anything about it?”

Your cheeks felt like they had been lit aflame, you looked down, your hair hiding your face slightly. “It’s a sin, especially before marriage. The only reason to do it is if you want to have a child.” You recited from what you learned from your parents and pastor.

“God, is that what your parents taught you? Hypocrites. It’s ridiculous. Of course sex isn’t sinful.”

“But…what about touching oneself? Surely that’s a sin, right?”

“It’s a natural part of growing up. Everyone has done it, there’s nothing to be ashamed about.” Laszlo noticed your nervousness, the fiddling with your hands and your eyes anywhere but his. “Have you never touched yourself before? Never even tried?”

You bit your lip, rubbing your hand up your arm as you felt goosebumps start to rise. “Once, but it didn’t feel right…at all. I never tried again. I never should have done it in the first place.” You felt ashamed talking about this with someone as professional as Laszlo. He must’ve been so ashamed of you as well, you wished you never even set foot in his office. But what you didn’t know was Laszlo was feeling ashamed of himself for how lustful he felt all of a sudden. The thought that you had never experienced sexual pleasure made his pants feel way too tight in that moment, and he felt sorry for you, but not in a condescending way. It would be a risk for your professional relationship, but it was one he was willing to take.

You didn’t notice Laszlo walking closer to you until you felt his hand gently graze your hand that was nervously holding your other arm. You felt your heart skip a beat as you finally looked up at him, finding his eyes to be searching yours. His tantalizing stare felt like it was penetrating your soul, him being so close to you that you could see your own startled expression in his dilated pupils. “Do you want me to show you how it’s done?” Laszlo asked in a low tone, his voice almost gravelly, causing a shiver to run down your spine in anticipation.

You didn’t know why, but you suddenly felt a burning hot desire in your lower stomach, a slick wetness pooling at the apex of your thighs. Your expression reflected in his eyes turned from being startled to almost dazed. Out of anything he could’ve said, Laszlo surprised you with that. You wanted to say yes, so badly. But… “What will happen to me if I say yes?” You asked timidly, glancing down at his hand on yours.

“Nothing that you don’t consent to.” He smiled softly, but with your fearful expression, he realized what you actually were asking. “I promise, you’re not going to hell if you allow me to do this.”

You exhaled shakily. “Okay.”

Laszlo smiled, running his hand up to your shoulder and moving a piece of hair out of your face. “Sit on my desk and lift up your skirts for me please.” He instructed, and you obeyed nervously, feeling your whole body heat up as he watched intently as you exposed most of your legs to him. “Good girl.” You try not to squirm as Laszlo stood right next to you, feeling his breath on your neck as he lightly held you in place with his right arm and using his left hand to gently trail up your inner thigh, eliciting another shiver from you. “If I do anything that you don’t like or want to stop for any reason, just tell me and I’ll stop. Okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

You took a deep breath as Laszlo finally reached your aching cunt, exhaling sharply when his fingers made contact with your sex. “Spread your legs for me, my dear.” You gasped as he touched a spot that was particularly sensitive. “Is that painful?” He asked, but you quickly shook your head no. “This spot is called the clitoris, it’s the only human organ where its sole purpose is to provide pleasure. Isn’t that extraordinary?” He spoke huskily into your ear, causing goosebumps to rise all over your body, all while you were still struggling to keep still as he kept slowly rubbing circles on your clit. You wanted him to go faster, but all you could do was whimper pitifully as Laszlo started to kiss and nip at your neck. “How does that feel, Schatz?”

“G-Good…” You whimpered, “so good but…”

“What is it?”

“Can you…move a bit faster, please?” Laszlo smirked at your stuttering voice, finding your shyness adorable. Instead of giving you what you craved, he did the opposite, removing his hand from you and moving to stand in between your legs, spreading your legs even further. “What are you-? Oh!” You gasped as Laszlo slowly pushed one of his fingers inside you, the intrusion foreign but not entirely unwelcome…

“And how does this feel? Still good?” He asked, adding a second finger and gently thrusting into you, the stretch causing you to wince slightly but you didn’t want him to stop. You let out your first moan as he rubbed your clit with his thumb in tandem with his thrusts. “I assume that was a yes, hm?”

“Y-Yeah…” You moaned, your hips moving against his hand mindlessly, starting to feel pleasure building and building inside you. “Feels so good, Laszlo…” 

Laszlo lifted your chin with his other hand, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He wanted to see your face. He finally kissed you as he sped up his hand movements, swallowing your loud moans, a deep guttural groan escaping him as he felt your walls clench around his fingers. “You feel that pressure building in your body?” You nodded quickly, panting and moaning but you still tried to pay attention to what he was saying. “You’re getting close to what’s called an orgasm. It’s a feeling of euphoria when you reach the peak of sexual pleasure.”

“Are…are you getting close?” You stuttered.

Laszlo smiled, hiding a wince when his cock jumped in his pants. “I’m not the one getting pleasured, you are.” And as if right on cue, you felt yourself reach that peak and it was indescribable. Your body burned all over, but in a good way. You moaned loudly as you rode out that wave, gripping onto the doctor’s waistcoat for purchase. Your corset felt almost painful as your nipples hardened as you came, it felt all too restrictive. But you came down from that high, and you already wanted to feel it again. “Are you okay?” Laszlo’s soft deep voice brought you back to reality.

“Can…can you make me do that again?” You asked shyly, causing Laszlo to chuckle.

You winced as Laszlo lightly tapped your clit, the feeling almost too much to handle. “You’re too sensitive. Some people can’t come again right after because of the oversensitivity. But you might be ready to go again after several minutes.”

“But I want you to feel good too. I want you to…come.” You spoke timidly, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. He almost melted on the spot.

Laszlo frowned, shaking his head, trying to ignore his aching cock that was just crying out for stimulation. “I don’t want to hurt you. It might be too much, especially right now.”

“But I want you, Laszlo. I really do.” Laszlo didn’t say anything as you reached for the buttons on his pants, feeling guilty as he let you nervously palm his member through his trousers. “Please, I want you to be my first…”

Laszlo exhaled a shaky breath, grabbing your face and kissing you lightly with a frustrated growl. “First times for women can be painful…”

“I don’t care. I want you to show me what it’s like.” You begged, gently biting his bottom lip, doing everything in your power to let him know that you’d be okay.

Laszlo finally gave in, kissing you again with much more fervor, allowing himself to crave your touch. Your hands were all over him, messing up his perfectly styled hair and undoing the buttons of his waistcoat so you could feel more of him. You moaned as he squeezed your breasts through your dress, running his hands up and down your torso as you pulled his cock out of the confines of his pants. But he suddenly stopped, taking your hand away before speaking. “We’re going to take this slow, okay? If I hurt you, tell me and I’ll stop, okay?” He said seriously.

“Okay.”

Laszlo slowly rubbed the head of his cock in between your folds, you letting out small whines as he rubbed himself on your still overly sensitive clit. He looked into your eyes when he lined himself up with your entrance, silently asking for your approval. You nodded, holding onto his hand that was gripping your thigh.

His cock was much bigger than his fingers, that’s for sure. You let out a silent cry when he entered you, just his tip stretching you far more than his fingers. It was a burning pressure, but you still didn’t want him to stop. Despite the initial pain, it felt so natural for him to be inside you. You accepted him as best you could, him stilling inside you when he bottomed out. “Are you okay?” He asked, already panting from holding himself back.

“Yes, Laszlo, please. Keep going.” You and Laszlo both let out deep guttural groans as he started to thrust into you slowly, him keeping a firm grip on your thigh as he rocked his hips back and forth. Soon, you started to feel a new type of pleasure. It didn’t feel the same as when he was rubbing your clit, but whatever it was, it felt amazing. Every time Laszlo thrusted, the tip of his cock would hit that spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull. His slow thrusts weren’t enough now. You wanted more. You needed more. “Faster…please.” You whined, moving your own hips up to meet his.

“You sure?” It was sweet that he was always checking in, you appreciated it, but sweet wasn’t what you needed at that moment. You nodded vigorously, grabbing the collar of his shirt roughly and bringing him down to kiss you.

“Oh, my God-!” You gasped, moaning in his ear as he sped up his thrusts, his skin slapping against yours echoing around his office. “You feel so good.” You smiled tremulously, tears of overwhelming pleasure brimming your eyes. Laszlo’s grunting and soft moaning had to have been the prettiest sound you had ever heard, each others’ moans mixing together like a symphony. 

“You’re exquisite, my dear.” Laszlo breathed out, moaning every time he felt you clench around him, your velvety walls taking him in deep and holding on with a vice grip. “You’re doing so well…fuck.” He cursed, his cock twitching as he sped up even more, chasing his own release desperately, your pretty moans spurring him on. “I’m so close.” He voiced, his words coming out strangled, his hand tightening around yours, bringing it up and placing a light kiss on your knuckles.

“Do it, come. Please, come.” You whimpered, crossing your legs behind his back, not allowing him to remove himself from you, pulling him as close as possible. His heavy breaths and soft moans fanned across your skin as he neared his climax, placing sloppy kisses on your cheek and down your neck, his neatly trimmed beard scratching at your skin. You cried out as Laszlo started to rub your clit once more, desperate to feel you come around his cock. “Please, please…” You whined, not even sure what you were asking for. His circular motions on your clit paired with his cock roughly splitting you open over and over again was almost too much, but you fully relinquished yourself to him, happy to be used by someone you admired so much.

“Come for me again, Schatz. I want to feel you, please.” Laszlo moaned, speeding up his ministrations on your clit.

“Laszlo!” You squealed, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you reached that peak once more, falling limp in his arms as you rode out your second orgasm.

“Oh, Scheiße!” Laszlo stilled as you clenched around him, letting out a loud strained grunt as he finally released inside of you, coating your walls with his cum. He buried his head in your shoulder, panting heavily along with you, trying to steady his heartbeat. “Are…are you okay?” He asked nervously as he pulled out of you and stuffed himself back into his trousers, looking into your eyes with concern. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no. You didn’t.” You shook your head, wearing a tired satisfied smile. “I really liked it.”

Laszlo let out a relieved sigh. “Good.” He said, wearing a lopsided grin, placing a short light kiss on the tip of your nose. He chuckled breathlessly, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t expecting the day to turn out like this…but I’m glad it did.”

“Me too.” You smiled timidly, but then you remembered something. “So, um, why did you want to see me in the first place?” You asked.

Laszlo chuckled nervously, gently caressing your cheek while a slight blush. “Oh, I was, uh.” He cleared his throat, “With how well you’re doing, I was going to ask you to work for the Institute officially. Paid and everything. But now…I want to take you out on a date too, if you’d allow me.”

“Really?” You beamed.

“Really.”

“I’d love that. Both. Both of those things. To work here and go on a date with you.” You rambled with a giggle, making Laszlo smile.

“Great…I suppose we should get back to work now.” He said reluctantly, holding onto your hips like he never wanted to let you go.

“I promise, I won’t let you regret hiring me.”

“I don’t think you could make me regret anything, my dear.”

~~~~~~~~~~

back on my bullshit (aka, i'm obsessed with Daniel again). nobody talk to me.

[vervainariadne]

100% i would bend him over

[italianraviolos]

¡HELP!

Hi Daniel brühl fandom, especially those who are simping for Laszlo Kreizler.

Ages ago, I read a ff about Laszlo falling in love with one of is patients.

I remember the plot, it was the story of a women who's Sara's friend and she suggests her to go to Laszlo due to her problems.

She suffers from panic and anxiety attacks and Laszlo tries to cure her, and one night tries to cure her in a different way (coff* smut *coff) and after that he invites her to the opera but a few misunderstandings happen about a letter (I don't remember what happens) and so she goes but Sara gives her a knife as a defence.

They come back at Laszlo's house after the opera and she feels threatened during a particular situation of sexual tension, so she takes out the knife and then ✨smut✨ again.

IF ANYONE KNOWS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT PLEASE TELL MEEEEE

Thank you✨

[reinexe]

Just watched the movie ( next door ) by Daniel brühl.. and i- 😭😭

[f1yogurt]

Smut Prompts for the Danny Bunch!

27 for Laszlo <3

thank you for this!! here's a short drabble for Laszlo x gn!Reader [AO3 link]

smut prompts - 27. “I’m too busy.” “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

minors DNI 18+

You were in a playful mood tonight, and as you walked into Doctor Kreizler’s spacious study, you grinned when you saw him seated behind his huge wooden desk. There were papers strewn about on its surface, and Laszlo looked like he was focused, reading something intently with his glasses on. Oh, you’d have to do something about that.

“Hello, darling,” you greeted, walking up to his desk. Laszlo glanced up briefly in acknowledgement, but then he immediately went back to reading. Hm. You walked around to where he was seated, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek, your fingers dancing along the collar of his shirt. Laszlo inhaled sharply at your touch, although he didn’t pull away.

“I’m too busy,” he protested, although a slight blush had risen to his cheeks. You grinned, knowing exactly how to fix this.

“I’ll be quick, I promise.” Before he could protest, you dropped to your knees and slid slightly underneath the desk, positioning yourself between his legs. You chuckled when you heard him gasp again.

“Shh, darling,” you shushed, unzipping the fly of his nice trousers. “I’ll take care of you. Meanwhile, you can continue to work…if you’re so busy.” Laszlo looked down at you then, and you just grinned up at him mischievously. The man was still holding a paper in his left hand, and his glasses were perched on his nose, as if he truly intended to continue working through this.

Without further adieu, you tugged down his briefs and gently grasped his arousal in your warm hand, causing Laszlo to let out a muffled moan. It pleased you that he would finally have a reaction to this, and you wanted to earn more of those strangled sounds of pleasure from him.

“Schatz, I, I need to keep working–” Laszlo cut himself off with another groan as you began stroking him. Oh, how wrong he was to refuse the two of you a nice, long, pleasant evening together.

“Hush, I promised I would be quick,” you said, intending to make good on your words. “And I never back out on a promise.” Doing your best to maintain eye contact, you took him in your mouth, not allowing him time to tell you differently. You bobbed your head, using your hands and tongue and everything you knew that would drive him wild, to the brink the quickest. Laszlo was making the most beautiful noises, whimpering and gasping. A gorgeous flush had risen to his cheeks and had climbed its way to the tips of his ears.

You hummed around him, enjoying the feeling of Laszlo shuddering beneath you. Somehow, he still was holding onto that oh so important paper of his. His glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose, and a lock of hair now fell over his forehead. So much for working.

Before he knew what had hit him, and before he could warn you, Laszlo was coming. Stars flashed behind his eyelids as he rode out the waves of ecstacy, and you hummed your approval. When Laszlo finally recovered, he opened his eyes to find you buttoning up his trousers, almost as if nothing had happened.

“See? Quick,” you said, winking as you stood up. “Come see me when you finish your work, Doctor Kreizler. Maybe we can work out a longer session. If it fits into your busy schedule, of course.” You turned and walked away, up to your bedroom, leaving Laszlo to gaze longingly after you. With that promise, it looked like he didn’t have that much work to do after all.

[fairyysoup]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

ADHAKFHSKFJFL thank you so much bb i love doing these 💕

All of my works are 18+ MDNI. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Ouroboros - Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x fem!reader

Smut. Fluff. Idiots in love. You're in denial about your crush on Eddie until he has to go on the run and crash at your place. Horny antics ensue.

Ceremony and Devotion - Khonshu & Moon Boys (Moon Knight) x fem!reader

Smut. Human/Deity relations. Khonshu fucks, send tweet.

Hotel Room Service - Adrian Chase (Peacemaker) x afab!reader

Smut. Fluff. Drunk Sex. Sharing a hotel room with Adrian just got a little bit complicated.

The Somnambulist - dark!Laszlo Kreizler (The Alienist) x fem!reader

Darkfic. Smut. Noncon. Horror Elements. What if Dr. Kreizler was actually a terrible human being and also committed grievous malpractice with a patient?

A Dangerous Line - Eros/Starfox (Marvel's Eternals) x fem!reader

Smut. Human/Deity relations (ish). Surprise! The myth of Eros and Psyche is mostly true, and you're about to find out just how much.

[bruhlsbees]

BRUHLSBEES OLD WORKS MASTERLISTS

a new and improved masterlist for all of my daniel bruhl, owen wilson, luke wilson, and murray bauman work. lately i've been on the cusp of getting back into a writing kick and a lot of my motivation for some of these pieces have gone right out the window (sorry to all my early followers). as much as i'd like to just delete these fics and move on i know some people do enjoy them so you'll find a lot of my early work either in the 'retired' section or in the 'early works' section. some retired pieces may be worked on in the future, but for now they'll remain in the void. thanks for understanding and hopefully i'll get more stuff out soon! :')

S MEANS SMUT

RETIREMENT HOME

garden of eden (alex kerner x reader) - click here

sweet disposition (alex kerner x reader) - click here

paradox burning (ernst schmidt x reader) - click here

to the end (niki lauda x reader) - click here

second chance (writer!daniel x reader) - click here

FINISHED PIECES

bubbles (helmut zemo x reader) - part one & two (s)

five more minutes (helmut zemo x reader) - click here

it was real enough (helmut zemo x heike zemo) - click here

the haunting of heike zemo (helmut zemo x heike zemo) - click here

behind the mask (helmut zemo x reader) - click here (s)

i'm going in tonight (alex kerner x reader) - click here (s)

opposites attract (alex kerner x reader) - click here

baby paula (alex kerner x reader) - click here

at the cabin (alex kerner x reader - click here

dancing in the rain (alex kerner x reader) - click here

sapphire strings (andrea marowski x reader) - click here

modern!flatmate! andrea x reader headcannons - nsfw version & sfw version

broken wing (dr. laszlo kreizler x reader) - click here

bloodlust (vampire! laszlo kreizler x reader) - click here

kachow (niki lauda x reader) - click here (s)

good luck charm (niki lauda x reader) - click here (s)

jackpot (dark!daniel x reader) - click here (s)

tom foolery (clowniel x reader) - part one & two (s)

the first time (ernst schmidt x reader) - click here (s)

welcome home (chris burnett x reader) - click here

better man (ken hutchinson x reader) - click here (s)

the last night (anthony adams x reader) - click here

knock three times (murray bauman x reader) - click here (s)

murray bauman nsfw alphabet - part one & two (s)

[babybluebex]

𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖉𝖔𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗 𝖐𝖗𝖊𝖎𝖟𝖑𝖊𝖗 | 𝔠𝔥.1: 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔞 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔞𝔫

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 | there's a tension between you and dr. kreizler that ever john moore can sense and, after an injury while defending you, you and laszlo finally come to terms with your feelings. 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 | laszlo kreizler x fem!reader (y/n) 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 4.8k 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 | explicit language, smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, too much flowery victorian language, one single and awful cody ko reference 𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊 | alright the alienist is plaguing me and i cant stop thinking ab fucking laszlo so HERE YOU GO. enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!

You heard the roar of the protests outside the door as you snapped the latches of the briefcase shut. Taking a quick chance, you pushed yourself up a bit in order to look out of a glass panel of the red door, and you surveyed the crows outside the morgue. “Goodness, Doctor,” you breathed. “There’ll be a riot soon, no doubt.”

The German doctor gave a little grunt, not so much in response but rather an affirmation that he heard you. You hadn’t known Doctor Laszlo Kreizler for very long, hardly half a year, ever since you had been convinced to join the little crime-fighting syndicate that your coworker Sara had roped you into. At first, you had only agreed because Sara had made it seem like they were up to their necks in work, but her real reason very quickly became apparent when you met Dr. Kreizler and Mr. Moore. They were brilliant at their jobs, each man successful in his own endeavors, but they were men. They were bold, brash, impulsive, and rude (especially the doctor), and they were often stopped from tyrades by you or Sara calming them down. After all, it was often said that women were more logical than men. You knew that both Mr. Moore and Dr. Kreizler were too prideful to admit it, but you suspected that they were thankful for both you and Sara.

“Keep your head down,” John said from behind you. “And keep a firm hold on that case, you understand? Those documents are important.”

“Yes,” you said softly. You did understand the importance of the documents: John’s sketches of the victim’s bodies, Sara’s paperwork that she had smuggled from the police station. Essentially, all of the evidence for the entire case was in your hands. You didn’t want to face John's (or, more frightening) Dr. Kreizler’s wrath if the documents were misplaced or ruined. The crowd couldn’t be that awful to handle, could it? It was a mere few meters from the door of the morgue to the carriage that awaited, and there were police.

John went to tend to Sara, and you were struck silent when Dr. Kreizler turned to you. Of all the men in the world, you were intrigued by him the most. He was intimidating on the surface, with his piercing dark brown eyes and dark accented voice. But he was brilliant, perhaps one of the smartest men you had ever met. You liked working closely with Dr. Kreizler, and you hoped that he would continue to call upon you for investigative help once this child murderer was apprehended. Dr. Kreizler called himself an “alienist”, a term that you were familiar with; when you were young, your mother had suffered an affliction that made her a frequent patient of an alienist in your home of Virginia. You had never met an alienist like Dr. Kreizler, though. He was rough and brash at the worst of times, but quiet and gentle at the best. There was such a dichotomy from Dr. Kreizler and his alter-ego of Laszlo, and you hardly ever knew which you were talking to. Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde, John called him behind his back (but you suspected that Dr. Kreizler knew anyway).

“Hold onto my coat,” Dr. Kreizler said quickly. “Stay close to me. Keep the case between me and yourself. Do you hear me?”

You nodded, and your grip tightened on the handle of the briefcase. Just a short walk, you reminded yourself. Just a few meters.

John left first, and, the moment the door opened and people caught a glimpse of Dr. Kreizler, an explosion of sound went off. They were yelling at him, yelling awful things about how dare he waste the lives of children, their children. You looked at Dr. Kreizler’s face, trying to see if any kind of emotion was showing through but, as he was skilled at, his face was a blank canvas. His left hand grabbed your arm and tugged you a bit closer to him, close enough to smell the musk of his cologne, and you took a fistful of the tail of his jacket. “Hold on tight,” Dr. Kreizler whispered, glancing over his shoulder at you. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought that his constant checks were for you, rather than for the documents.

The air outside felt charged with electricity as people of all sorts strained against the police barricade to have a crack at Dr. Kreizler. They were yelling, screaming, jostling the police and Dr. Kreizler, and, by extension, you. “You who have no children!” a man hissed at Dr. Kreizler, and you watched his give the man a side-long glance. “You have no soul. He has no children of his own so he must use the children of others to prove his crazy ideas-- our children!”

“Keep your head down,” Dr. Kreizler said to you, turning just enough to allow himself to speak without shouting.

“And her!” the faceless voice from the mob shouted. Maybe it was the mob as a whole. “Instead of children, she chooses crime! Can’t have children, little miss? S’why ya chose to do a man’s job?”

You hardly even had time to figure out how much the words hurt before Dr. Kreizler had spun around to face the direction that the shout came from. He sent a swift punch at a mustached man, the one who seemed guilty of the slanderous remarks, and you yelped at the suddenness of it. You had seen Dr. Kreizler get upset before, yes, but never actually get physically violent with anyone before. He had thrown chalk across the room and slammed books onto tables, but this was something new. And with his right arm, no less. Maybe it was just a scare tactic.

And surely it was, because Theordore came to the rescue soon after, and he used his boxing expertise in order to subdue the crowd enough to allow you, John, and Dr. Kreizler into the carriage. As soon as you were safely in the carriage, Dr. Kreizler was hanging over you. His face was red under his beard, and his piercing eyes seemed to be staring straight into your soul. “Are you alright?” he asked, and you jumped when John slammed the door of the carriage shut.

“Yes,” you gasped. You realized that you were still fiercely gripping Dr. Kreizler’s coat tail, and you let go of it with a grunt of pain. The thick fabric of the coat had managed to rub the heel of your hand a bit raw, and Dr. Kreizler saw it instantly. He started to take up your hand in his grip, but you stopped him. “Please, Doctor, I’m alright. Nothing a bit of salve won’t fix. Thank you.”

Dr. Kreizler took his seat across from you, sitting a bit heavily, and you tilted your head as you examined him. He was favoring his right a bit, and you watched the subtle flex of his shoulder. “You’re hurt,” you said quickly. “Dr. Kriezler, is your arm okay?”

Dr. Kreizler gave a small grunt of pain as he rolled his right shoulder, and he said, “Nothing more than a pulled muscle. It’ll correct itself in a few days.”

“Oh, goodness,” you mumbled. “Surely, that didn’t happen as you were defending me.”

“It did,” Dr. Kreizler told you. “But it’s nothing to be worried about, I assure you.”

You groaned softly, and you settled the briefcase on your lap. “I feel responsible,” you said softly. “When we get to the Institute, you must let me look at it.”

“I’m the doctor,” Kreizler said sharply. “If I say it’s alright, then it is.”

John watched you with wide eyes for a moment, then shifted his gaze to Dr. Kreizler. He was looking out the glass window of the carriage, watching the mob, and you hoped that neither man saw the tear that escaped your eye. You were quick to dry it up and return your hand to the briefcase, and you looked across to see John’s gaze slipping up your face. He had seen it, no doubt. “Here,” he started in his low gravel. “Let me…”

“No,” you said quickly. “I would like to keep an eye on them, John. Thank you, though.”

The Institute was a cheerful place. The grounds were always filled with the sound of children’s laughter, and the rooms were warm with fire. Particularly, Dr. Kreizler’s study was a fine place for you. Rows and rows of bookshelves housed so many volumes, old and new, big and small. There was a table in the middle of the room that was always disorderly with various books and papers and whatever else pertained to the tasks that Dr. Kreizler had at hand. You liked the window at the front of the room the most. It was made of milky-white glass, not clear enough to see through but enough to let the sunlight in. You would pull a chair from the table to the window and settle there, sometimes reading, sometimes listening to John and the Doctor’s bickering. Sometimes, if the Isaacsons were there, it would be the four men sharing ideas and discussing the murders.

Dr. Kreizler fell down into a chair the moment he reached the study, and you placed the briefcase on the table beside him. He grunted softly as he sat upright, and he mumbled, “Thank you”, and he slid the case in front of him.

You hesitated for a moment. Do you dare ask him a second time? “Dr. Kreizler,” you began gently. “Please.”

Dr. Kreizler shifted in his seat, looking down at his papers, and he said, “Please what?”

“Please let me look at your arm,” you said. “Even if you say nothing is wrong with it, I would like to see for myself.”

Dr. Kreizler fixed his jaw as he clenched his teeth, and he mumbled, “Why can’t you just be satisfied with the answer I give you?”

“Because, as much as you hate to admit it, I know you,” you said. “I know you more than you would wish for me to. And I know that you’re in pain. I can see it plainly on your face. Please, Dr. Kreizler… Laszlo--” At this, he looked up at you. You never used his first name, not in the few months you had known him. He was always Dr. Kreizler. Sometimes just Doctor or Kreizler or, when you were trying to placate him, good Doctor Kreizler. But never Laszlo. You had heard both John and Sara call him that, but they were closer to him. It felt almost wrong to call him that, and fear struck in your heart at his gaze. “Let me help you.”

Dr. Laszlo Kreizler studied you for a moment, almost like he was trying to measure if you were playing a game with him, and he finally said, “You musn’t comment on the limb itself. Only the injury area.”

You nodded quickly, and you watched as Laszlo began to undo the buttons on his vest with his left hand. Quickly realizing that he couldn’t do it one-handed, you jumped to help him. You carefully pushed his hand away and started at the buttons yourself, and you pushed the vest aside to work at the buttons on his shirt. You could sense the nervous energy that was coming off of him, and the overwhelming urge to kiss him overtook you. But you couldn’t do that, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to. Yes, Laszlo was a handsome man, but you hadn’t ever thought of him like that before. Although, you reconsidered as his shirt began to yawn open, maybe you had. The good doctor permeated your dreams often, perhaps often enough to cause the little fluttering stir in your stomach.

You pushed the butterflies aside and finished the task at hand, and you very carefully pulled the shirt from off of his arm. You let your eyes wander down the length of his arm, his so-called “broken wing”. It was decidedly smaller than his left, skinny, hardly anything on it except for the malformed bones and thin skin, housed by the pressed sleeve of his shirt. The skin about his elbows was marked with scars, and the rest was covered in freckles. And his shoulder was a reddish-blue, already bruising up. “Oh, dear,” you mumbled. “It’s bruised. I think it’s a torn muscle rather than a pulled one. You need to see a doctor about this.”

“And what do you suspect they’ll tell me?” Laszlo asked. “Anything more than what I already know?”

You sighed. “You don’t know everything, Doctor,” you mumbled. “Let me go downstairs and get you a cold compress, it might soothe it a bit.”

“You did what you asked to,” Laszlo said. “You looked at it. You never said anything about treating it.”

“I assumed that that was a given,” you said. You couldn’t help the way that your gaze lingered on his arm, and you hoped that he didn’t notice it. The last thing you wanted was for Laszlo to get truly angry with you. “But, alright. If you truly wish to dismiss me based on a technicality…” You carefully helped him do up his shirt again, making sure to adjust the boarded collar just right so that it didn’t make too much of an awful racket, and you froze as you did up his tie.

His hand was on your waist. His right hand. You looked down at yourself and where his palm was nestled just over your hip, and you looked back at his face. His head was tilted a bit, looking at you, and he carefully retracted his hand. “Have I overstepped?” he asked cautiously, which was not an emotion that you were familiar with when it came to Dr. Kreizler.

You swallowed thickly. Your hands were shaking just a bit, and you shook your head. “No,” you managed to tell him. “No, you’re alright, Doctor.”

“Why am I always Doctor?” Laszlo asked. “John is John, Sara is Sara, the Isaacsons are the Isaacsons. Why am I never just Laszlo?”

You shrugged, and you slipped a few fingers behind the knot of the tie in order to ensure that you didn’t fasten it too tight. “It never feels right to call you anything but that,” you mumbled. “I suppose I can start calling you Laszlo, though, if that pleases you.”

“It does,” Laszlo said, and you watched a rare smile upturn his cheeks. It was faint, but it was there. “Funny how pleasure works.”

You scoffed and dropped the tie. “Please don’t start waxing poetic about pleasure, Laszlo,” you chuckled, and you moved along the table to where a pile of documents awaited. “I’ve heard it enough.”

“Then you know the importance of it,” Laszlo said, and he stood up from his seat. “Without pleasure, there can be no pain.”

“And without rain, there cannot be sun,” you added. “Good and bad, yin and yang; one cannot exist without the other.”

“Right,” Laszlo said. “Antitheses. What if, perhaps, there can be no sin if there is not repentance? No righteousness without evil? No male without female?”

“I suppose that follows your logic,” you said. You looked at Laszlo across the table and smiled at him, and you quickly said, “What if that is our killer’s motive? Repentance for sins? Y-You said that crimes like this are done out of revenge, so what if the killer had similar crimes befall him in his youth, and this is a twisted way of repenting?”

Suddenly filled with fervor, you searched the table for the small journal calendar that Laszlo had pulled out several weeks before. “The murders take place on the holy days,” you said. “Pentecost, the Ascension… The letter about seeing Georgio in front of the church. What if this is religiously motivated?”

Laszlo took in a deep breath, and he said, “That’s very likely… Repentance… You’re a brilliant young woman.”

Your skin buzzed with the praise, and you stepped closer to Laszlo in order to hand him the journal. “I’m just glad to be of service,” you told him. “I can’t imagine what I would be doing at the police station.”

Laszlo took the journal from your hand and set it back on the table, and his hand slipped from his jacket pocket. The air was silent but fantastically electrically charged, and you nearly jumped out of your body when Laszlo’s hand cupped your cheek. The contact felt like a scalding iron, but you leaned into it. You raised your hand and covered his with yours, and you whispered, “I’m glad you think so highly of me, Doctor.”

“I think the world of you,” Laszlo whispered. His hand was warm against your face, and you were only apart for just a second more before Laszlo was leaning into you and kissing you. It was a foreign feeling for you, and you were sure that it was for Laszlo as well; with no fiancée or courtship of any kind, you doubted if he had any experience with kissing or things of that sort. That being said, his kiss felt good. His mouth was warm against yours, his beard soft on your chin and cheeks, and you found yourself leaning further into him. You were wholly unsure of what you were asking for by doing this, but you were sure that Laszlo would oblige no matter what.

You only broke the kiss when Laszlo’s hand went from your face to your back. “Marcus and Lucius will be here any moment,” you gasped. “I think it best if we--”

“I have to have you,” Laszlo whispered on shaking breaths.

“How?” you asked. “Have you ever…?”

“No,” Laszlo said. His hand on your back went flat, drawing you closer to him, and he added, “Instincts come in at some point, my dear. After all, we are nothing more than animals.”

“Oh, Laszlo, that doesn’t sound arousing in the slightest,” you laughed softly. “At least make an effort to seduce me.”

“Is my standing here not enough?” Laszlo asked. “Is my kissing you not persuasive enough to have me? What more must I do? Must I lavish your whole body with my tongue? Must my hands go places they dare not before? Tell me, my beloved; I’ll do it all.”

“Do just that,” you breathed and drew him back in for another kiss. “Do it all.”

In an instant, almost as if something had possessed the poor doctor, he had shoved your hips against the edge of the table, and his kiss was on your lips again. This was hungrier and more desperate than before, and you took handfuls of his jacket, urging him closer and closer until his body was flushed against yours. You reveled in the warmth that he gave off, and you gave a quiet gasp when his left arm wrapped around you and hauled you onto the table. In an instant, Laszlo was pushing your legs open and fitting himself between your thighs, and his mouth left yours in favor of your throat. The neck of your shirt nearly inhibited his actions, but he made do, kissing your jawline and ear instead.

“Laszlo,” you whispered quickly. “The door’s open, anyone could--”

“Exactly,” Laszlo said into your neck, and he gave it a gentle nip with his front teeth. “Which is why we have to hurry.”

You weren’t exactly thrilled at the notion of that, but you had no other choice. The shocking need in your core was too much to ignore or put off. You needed Laszlo. Your hands left his jacket and went instead to his pants, and you gave shallow breaths as you worked at the buttons over his groin. You jumped a bit when Laszlo gave a low, guttural groan, and you almost mistook it for one of pain before your hand touched him through his pants. The very thought that you had caused this reaction in the otherwise composed and steadfast doctor made your cunt flutter with a nervous anticipation, and you tugged Laszlo back for another kiss. By then, his mouth had learned the shape of yours, and he kissed you like it was the last thing he would ever do. You loved it. You loved everything about it. You loved the way his hands felt on your waist, or skating up your legs to bustle your skirt at your hips. You loved the warmth of his breath in your mouth. You loved the feeling of him nearly quivering between your legs; that, you were sure, was not an animal instinct.

For a long while, the only sounds were that of your shared panting and the rustling of your clothing. You hated how there wasn’t any time to do anything more than a quick fuck, and you especially hated how the time constraint meant that there was no full undressing. You gently pulled Laszlo’s tie slack a bit, and he gave a little huffing laugh and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. “You’re so wonderful,” he whispered. “I detest how I can’t see the whole of you.”

“There’s always next time,” you said quickly. “I mean, if I’m not being too presumptuous--”

“Does it seem like you are?” Laszlo asked in low, accented gravel, and you gave a small giggle at the sight of the bulge in the doctor’s pants. No, it certainly did not seem that way. “I intend to have you every night, if you’ll allow me. It’s the first thing I thought about when Miss Howard introduced us.”

“Really?” you asked. “The first thought you had was making love to me?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Laszlo asked. His hips gave a sudden jerk towards you, pressing himself fully against your bare cunt, and you gave a gasp that was halfway surprise and halfway pleasure. Laszlo was right; pleasure could not exist without pain. In that case, pleasure of the body could not exist without the pain of the heart.

“No,” you breathed. Your hands smoothed down his back and that emerald-green jacket that you liked so much, and you drew Laszlo in so that your lips were next to his ear. “Stop your talking and fuck me, Laszlo.”

The brilliant doctor was as smart as a whip and had the quickest wit in New York, but he was struck dumb at that. His mouth was open just a bit as he examined your face, and you bit your lip as you laughed. “C’mon, we haven’t much time,” you mumbled, and Laszlo nodded quickly.

You were sure that the sight of his cock would make you uneasy, so you pressed your face into his neck as he started to stroke himself. And, as it turns out, sight was hardly needed at all. The moment he pressed himself into you, you could feel every ridge (and inch) of him, and you shuddered in warm pleasure when Laszlo let out a choked moan in your ear. The gravity of what you were doing was finally catching up to you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret it.

Laszlo’s hand was all over you. Gripping your waist, the back of your neck, fisting your skirt; anywhere he could find purchase, he did. His right arm was held firmly against your hip, and each thrust he gave you made your corset shift a bit and nudge his hand. What Laszlo lacked in emotional availability, he made up for in love-making. He was gentle with you, but breathtakingly intense at the same time. His lips were latched to your neck, his mouth open, and he was whispering small grunts and affirmations in your ear with every thrust. “So gorgeous,” he whispered. “Feel so good… Fuck.”

That’s how you knew that Laszlo was truly in the throes of lust. He would never dare use a word of that sort in any other situation. Quickly, you took his right hand from off your waist and brought it up to your face, and you began to pepper his palm and wrist with quick kisses. His fingers twitched just a bit, almost like an appreciation of sorts, and Laszlo whispered, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” you told him. “I want to show my love for every part of you, Las.”

“Las,” the doctor repeated, and he gave a quick little snort of laughter. “Nobody has ever called me that.”

“I think it’s high time someone does,” you said. “You deserve to have a lovely little name like that.”

You could feel Laszlo’s smile against your neck, and his breath caught in his chest. “Oh, darling,” he mumbled. “I’m afraid I won’t last much longer.”

“That’s okay,” you told him. “Me too.”

You tried to ignore the creak of the table that sounded in time with Laszlo’s movements, and you focused on the delicious way he felt inside of you. It felt right, like you were made to fit together. The slow drag and burn of him was lighting the most intense fire inside your belly, and you had read enough of those salacious penny novels to know what came next. You wanted to see him, though. You wanted to see his face as he finished and filled you with his seed, and you wanted to be able to kiss him as he drew you to fulfillment. You carefully pulled his face out of your neck and you smiled at the redness in his cheeks and the way his pupils were blown wide, and you pressed your forehead to his. “You’re so lovely,” Laszlo whispered, and his strong hand nearly left a bruise on your thigh with the strength of his grip. “I would like for this to happen again.”

Your heart warmed at his words. “I would too,” you agreed. “My only stipulation is-- Oh, fuck!” A jolt of white-hot pleasure rocked your body, jostling you further into Laszlo’s warmth, and you drew in a whining breath. “You have to take me to dinner.”

“Of course, darling,” Laszlo huffed. “Delmonico’s, every night.”

“I don’t need that,” you told him. “I just need you, Las.”

“Say my name again,” Laszlo said softly, and you smiled and gave his mouth a quick kiss.

“Las,” you mumbled. “Oh, fuck, Laszlo. You feel so good, Laszlo. Oh, Laszlo Kreizler, you fuck me so well.”

That was all it took. In an instant, Laszlo was moaning into your mouth as he came, and his hips carefully slowed as he filled you. The feeling of it was odd and foreign, but it also felt right. Everything about sex with Laszlo felt cosmically correct, and you pulled him into a tight hug by his shoulders. His left arm wound around you tightly, and you helped him maneuver his right arm around you as well, and you whispered sweet things to him as he caught his breath. “God, Laszlo, I love you to death,” you whispered. You felt his fingers dig tightly into your back, and his mouth pressed into your shoulder. “You say I’m wonderful, but I’m nothing compared to you.”

“What am I?” Laszlo asked softly. “A brain?”

“And a heart,” you told him. “You love so big, Las; so big that I think you’re afraid of it. But I want to teach you to embrace it. Love is what we’re made for, sweetheart.”

Laszlo kissed you again, slower and sweeter than before. There were no agendas left, nothing to work towards and to complete. You were lovers now, and you had all the time in the world.

Except, as the door to the Institute slammed closed three stories down and Marcus’s call of “Dr. Kreizler! Are you in the study?” floated upwards, you detached from Laszlo. Perhaps not all the time in the world, but enough.

“Yes!” Laszlo called back, his voice cracking awfully, and you pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle your laughter. “Come up!”

By the time the Isaacson twins had reached the study, all evidence of what you and Laszlo had done was squared away. The only memory that remained was the unforgettable feeling of his body between your legs, and the glances that you shared with him over the table. “We think that our killer is committing these crimes out of religious motivation,” Laszlo began. He had shed his jacket, leaving just the white shirt, vest, and tie, and you settled yourself in your usual chair by the window to watch the exchange. “Y/N pointed it out to me.”

“Hey, good job,” Lucius said, scanning the journal. “That’s a rather astute observation. Anything else come up?”

You and Laszlo exchanged a knowing glance, and you said, “Well, yes, but that’s a discussion for later, over dinner.”

[mypoisonedvine]

drabble requests?? yes please

Laszlo Kreizler crushing on a librarian and being a subby dork-

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting would happen when he developed an interest in the volunteer librarian at the University— really, he wasn't expecting anything. He definitely wasn't expecting this.

"Please," he whispered hoarsely, head falling back against the shelves. You smiled at him lasciviously, the look in your eyes reminding him that anyone could turn the corner at any moment and catch him like this... with your hand rubbing against the bulge in his trousers.

"Shh," you soothed, and your palm brushed up against the ridge of his head; his eyes rolled back. He didn't know it could feel like this...

"Please, please—" he choked, not sure what he was begging for anymore. At some point he'd been begging you to stop before someone caught you... now, his mind was cloudy and his body on edge and he just needed to feel good. You made him feel so good, such a primal response that he was too desperate to be ashamed by.

"It's alright, Laszlo," you encouraged gently, leaning in and speaking under your breath. You looked so lovely— he'd been busy watching you from afar all this time, he wondered if you could be as beautiful up close, and you were. You were beautiful, and terrifying; he knew he deserved his punishment after being caught spying on you, but his knees were weak as you spoke. "What were you watching me for?" you asked him in a purr.

"I... I don't know," he stammered.

"Yes you do," you grinned. "Don't lie— be a good boy and just tell me."

He bit back a moan, shutting his eyes tightly; he couldn't look at you while he said this. "I was watching you because I was waiting... to ask you to dinner..."

"Oh, dinner," you repeated. "Is that what you wanted? Dinner? Or did you want this?"

Biting his lip wasn't enough to keep his mouth shut when you ran your thumb over his entire length through his pants. "Both," he choked, "I wanted both— please, just let me—"

"You want to finish?" you noticed. "Right here? In your pants, in my library, where someone could see or hear? Oh, you're not a very good boy after all... you're naughty, hm?"

"Ohh—" he breathed, not even noticing that his hips were rocking against your hand now, "yes— I am."

"Spying on me, getting hard— you're a bit of a pervert, aren't you?"

"Yes," he agreed again.

"But you wanna be a good boy? For me?" you pressed.

"Yes!" he blurted out, a little too loud. "Yes, I'll be good, just please, please let me—"

"Come," you ordered, and he stuttered out a groan as his cock flexed and warmth filled his trousers... if it weren't for the overwhelming pleasure, he'd have the energy to feel the humiliation. "Good," you cooed, "good boy, Laszlo."

"Oh, fuck," he swore, something he usually didn't do. Then again, he didn't usually do any of this...

You smiled and stepped back as he finished, and the loss of your perfect touch made him blink his eyes open. It really hit him then, that you'd just caught him watching you and rubbed his cock and made him come in the middle of the library. "I hope you found what you're looking for," you announced, "let me know if you need anything else, okay?"

You turned and began to walk away like nothing had happened, and he watched you in shock, awe, and fading ecstasy.

"Laszlo," you said as you looked over your shoulder at him, just about to leave the row of shelves and return to your desk.

"Y-yes?" he stammered.

"Clean yourself up," you instructed, smiling, before you disappeared around the corner.

[worldofmarvelfics]

Daniel Bruhl (+Characters)

Please note that none of these works are written by me and all credits are returned to their respective owners. I’m just here to provide a list of fics that i personally love so that you guys can enjoy too!

Updated: 27/4/2022

Legend:

🦋One-shots/Imagine/Headcanon

🌼 Completed Series

❄️ Uncompleted Series

Daniel Bruhl

🦋 Black Lotus by @mypoisonedvine Hacker!Daniel 

a malicious hacker has taken ctrl control of your laptop and wants you to do some very specific things to get it back

🦋 Tom Foolery by @bruhlsbees Clown!Daniel

the one where reader fucks a party clown

🦋 Something Just Like This by @wayward-mikaelson

your father takes on a business partner, who captures your eye and makes your ex jealous.

Laszlo Kreizler

🦋 A Slow Game by @noforkingclue Dark!Laszlo 

You were his maid, just his maid, nothing special. At least, that’s what you saw yourself as. If you had known his plans for you maybe you would’ve thought twice before entering the lions den.

🦋 Broken Wing by @bruhlsbees

laszlo catches reader attempting to play the piano

🦋 Courting the Occult by @eli-the-thinker Vampire!Laszlo

People had tried to warn you against getting involved with him, society told tales of occult, blood drinking monsters who loved nothing more than to feed on young beautiful women. Many of your acquaintances claimed that he was one of them intent on keeping you as a source of life blood and pleasure. They may have been right, but either way, you couldn’t care less.

🦋 Mourning by @noforkingclue Dark!Laszlo

Laszlo pursuing a recent widow

🦋 Set a Foul to Catch a Foul by @rosemaremembrance

After having an erotic dream about Doctor Kreizler, you are entirely unable to get him off your mind. Much to his pleasure.

🦋 The Somnambulist by @rosemaremembrance

Doctor Kreizler takes a particular interest in your habit of sleepwalking, and elects to use hypnosis as a means of controlling your symptoms.

🌼 My Body is a Cage by @mypoisonedvine

working with Dr. Kreizler and his rag-tag team of investigators began mainly as a favor to John, your closest friend from childhood, but emotions complicated things (as they tend to) when you developed an interest in the enigmatic alienist. emotions, like instincts, are natural and hard to avoid. Dr. Kreizler tries to anyway, an alpha so suppressed he’s often confused for a beta. but you never made that mistake; no, your mistake was falling for him

Father Padre Antonio

🦋 Poor Unfortunate Soul by @rosemaremembrance

A priest walks into a bar. How does the rest of the joke go, again?

🦋Salvation In Destruction by @ultraintrovertedgryffindor

❄️ Confession by @norabrice1701

You’ve harbored a crush on your church’s priest for years, and after your first year away at university…well, don’t they say confession is good for the soul?

[eliselovely]

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: period typical sexism, controlling parents, vampirism, blood drinking, explicit sex

People had tried to warn you against getting involved with him, society told tales of occult, blood drinking monsters who loved nothing more than to feed on young beautiful women. Many of your acquaintances claimed that he was one of them intent on keeping you as a source of life blood and pleasure.

They may have been right, but either way, you couldn’t care less.

~~~~

Dr. Kreizler’s hand was cold to the touch when you shook it during your introduction, but you thought nothing of it, as it was a bitterly cold New Year’s Eve. Theodore is the one that introduced you two, your family was long time friends of the Roosevelt family so you were always present at these sorts of events. 

Naturally you were aware of Kreizler, it was almost impossible to be a member of New York high society and not have heard of the infamous Laszlo Kreizler, the harsh spoken alienist who was said to be able to read your very thoughts. Many people you know have claimed to meet him at one point or another, citing how small he could make a person feel with just his gaze. You didn’t feel any of those things in that moment though, you just felt drawn to him, like a bolt drawn ever closer to a magnet.

You spent the night by his side, sharing quick witted conversation and a dance or two. When the clock struck midnight and the year 1897 began, he took your hand in his and left a soft kiss on your knuckles. His dark eyes never left yours throughout the intimate gesture, his cold hand cooling your overly warm one; you were hooked and so was he.

~~~~

The next time you saw him was purely by coincidence during a dinner and Delmonico’s where your father was attempting to secure you a husband. In your opinion, this practice of marriage for the sake of status was demeaning and outdated. Not to mention that the man your father wished for you to marry was extremely dull, so who were you to blame if your attention wandered? Especially after the familiar figure of Dr. Laszlo Kreizler walked into the dining room wearing perfectly tailored evening clothes.

He caught you staring almost immediately as if he had felt it, you held his gaze though, something inside you deciding to be bold. He gave you a small smile and tilted his head towards the others at your table, you returned his smile and gave him a slight eye roll as you turned back to whatever was being discussed. 

You managed to keep up with your group’s conversation throughout the rest of the night while still making occasional eye contact with Laszlo over your father’s shoulder. It was almost as if the two of you were having a conversation of your own, one that Laszlo was eager to continue when your two parties were waiting for hansoms in front of the restaurant. You watched as Laszlo’s companion boarded a hansom, leaving the doctor free to make his way over to greet you officially.

“Good evening,” Laszlo said, not only to you, but to your parents as well, having seen and understood exactly what the purpose of tonight’s dinner was.

“Good evening Dr. Kreizler,” you responded politely, turning to introduce him to your parents.

Laszlo shook your father’s hand, silently relishing the slightly shocked look on your mother’s face as she realized who exactly was speaking with them. Your mother was one of those society women who liked to gossip that Dr. Kreizler could read thoughts like some occult monster. Your father on the other hand thought he was a brilliant man, having read some of his work and heard stories from Theodore. 

After a few minutes of small talk, Laszlo’s carriage pulled up to the curb and a young boy jumped down from the driver’s seat. 

“Headed home Doctor?” the boy asked.

“Yes Stevie, your work for tonight is almost done,” Laszlo teased before turning back to you and your family. “I’m afraid this is where I take my leave, it was lovely speaking with you, I would very much enjoy the opportunity to dine with you in the future.”

Though he was speaking most directly to your father, you had an inkling that he was talking to you; whether that was because of the pull you felt towards the doctor or the sly smile he sent your way you couldn’t say.

~~~~~

Your father was keen to take Dr. Kreizler up on his offer of dining together, much to your mother’s annoyance. You on the other hand were thrilled that you got to spend more time with the man you had so quickly become enthralled with.

Soon enough, you and your family were sitting with the man in question in the dining room of Delmonico’s. You were situated directly across the table from Kreizler, giving you the perfect opportunity to keep your attention and gaze directed at him. You had no doubt that he noticed you staring at him as he conversed with your father about the matters of the mind that he had spent so many years studying. Your father was hanging on every word the doctor said, and unbeknownst to you was already planning out how to ask Dr. Kreizler if he would be interested in courting you.

As your party left the restaurant, your father lagged behind you and your mother in order to get a moment alone with Dr. Kreizler to pose the question of your courtship. 

“Dr. Kreizler,” your father began when you and your mother were out of ear shot. “You and my daughter obviously hold respect and admiration for each other, and I must admit I hold you in high regard myself. Given all of this information, I would like to offer my daughter’s courtship if you would be interested.”

Dr. Kreizler did well to hide his triumph at the proposition, the quest for your father’s permission to court you had been on his mind well before he asked your family to dine with him.

“I would love nothing more than that,” he replied sincerely. “Though naturally I will not force her to do this if she does not wish to, I would very much prefer to ask her myself.”

“I see nothing wrong with that,” your father agrees.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” Dr. Kreizler asked as you stepped outside the restaurant, coincidentally in the same spot that you two conversed the last time the two of you were here together.

“Of course,” you said, following him a few steps away from your parents. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, you have nothing to worry about,” he assured, reaching to grasp your hand in his. “I have spoken to your father and gained his blessing to court you if you so wish.”

You were stunned for a moment, not knowing if this was indeed real life. The man you had been enchanted by at your first introduction, the man you couldn’t get out of your head since the first time you laid eyes on him was asking to court you.

“I know it seems a bit quick as we have only known each other for a short time but I will not deny my attraction to you, but if you do not wish to do this, I will not force you,” he rambled before you cut him by squeezing the cold hand that held yours.

“Yes,” you all but whispered. “Yes Dr. Kreizler, yes.”

“Good,” he chuckled with an almost shy smile. “Then we will have to do away with titles, I hope you are comfortable calling me by my name instead.”

“Yes,” you said again, this time more confidently. “Laszlo, I would love to court you.”

~~~~

Your mother was aghast when she found out you had accepted Laszlo’s offer of courtship, claiming once again that he was somehow influencing you to say yes. You overheard her gossiping to your aunties over tea, telling them that he had charmed your father into giving his blessing. You had to stop yourself from laughing when your Aunt Millie said he was going to whisk you away to marry you and never allow you out again. Even months into your courtship you would catch your mother whispering snide comments to friends and relatives at every opportunity. 

In truth, Laszlo was lovely, he took you to evenings at the opera and the ballet, walks through the Metropolitan and when the weather turned warm enough, walks in the park and lunch at the teahouse. Your family hosted dinners, and had even invited him to the annual Independence Day party, somehow it didn’t occur to you that you had never been to his home.

If that fact had occurred to you, you may have questioned him about it. You may have questioned him about a lot of things if you had realized them earlier. Why his hands were always so cold, why even in the rare moments that you managed to fluster him, there was never any blush to his cheeks. Why indeed was it so easy for him to charm your father so quickly, why you seemed to yearn for his presence when he wasn’t around. You’d find out soon, just how intensely correct your mother had been when she gossiped about him being some occult monster. You’d also find out soon enough just how much you didn’t care.

~~~~

“Would you like to come to dinner tonight?” Laszlo blurted on one of your walks.

“I would love to,” you agreed. “Delmonico’s?”

“No,” he corrects, with a shy little laugh. “I’d like to host for once.”

“Really?” you asked with a smile of your own.

“Yes, there is something I would like to ask you,” he admitted. Laszlo’s statement caused you to stop in your tracks.

“You could just ask me now,” you teased, trying to get him to reveal something. 

“As much as I would like to, this is something I would much rather talk to you about in a private setting,” Laszlo urged. His tone was light, like the topic of conversation was nothing for you to worry about, but his body language said otherwise. He held his right hand in his left, keeping his gaze downcast in spite of your attempts to make eye contact.

“Laszlo you’re scaring me,” you warned.

“Nothing to be afraid of liebling,” he soothed, dropping his right hand back into his pocket and cradling your cheek with his left, finally meeting your eyes again. “It’s just my own anxieties.”

“Promise?” you prompted.

“Of course,” Laszlo ensured. “I am simply unpracticed in vulnerability.”

“I would point out the irony of that statement, but I’m sure you are fully aware,” you joked, not entirely convinced that all was truly well.

Later that evening, Laszlo sent Stevie in the calash to pick you up. You had spent the entire afternoon after your walk preparing for your evening, trying on almost every dress you own in an attempt to find one that would not only be appropriate for an evening in, but dressed up enough to make an impression. It’s not like you needed to try, you had been courting long enough that he had seen you fully dressed up for parties and nights at the opera, but you wanted to look your best.

Even as Stevie pulled the carriage to a halt, nerves stirred in your gut. The boy hopped down and offered you a hand as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the night breeze giving you a slight chill as you walked towards the front door.

“The doctor said you can just head right in,” Stevie called as he climbed back into the driver’s seat to bring the horse and calash to the stable.

“Thank you Stevie,” you called back.

You could see warm light through the window in the front door, you could imagine him wearing one of his many emerald green waistcoats that hugged his soft stomach. Maybe he had forgone a jacket, maybe he even had his sleeves rolled up. Despite Stevie telling you to head right in, you still knocked before opening the front door.

“Laszlo, I’m here,” you called into the house. “Stevie told me I could come in.”

“Yes, please, come in,” Laszlo called back. “I’ll be right there.”

“Alright,” you said, mostly to yourself as you stepped into the parlor. You let your eyes wander around the room as you took in his home for the first time. There was a grand piano by the front window with a collection of music sitting on the stand, books lined the built-in shelves, some titles and authors you recognized and some you didn’t. There was a small fire going in the hearth in order to drive away the autumn evening chill. A phonograph sat nearby the fireplace, the stack of recordings on the shelf next to it making it apparent that it was used often.

“Welcome,” Laszlo greeted from behind you. You were slightly ashamed to admit that he had made you jump. “Apologies liebling, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, it’s alright, I wasn’t paying attention,” you dismissed. You took a moment to take him in, you were right about him wearing one of his signature green waistcoats, no jacket, just as you had hoped for. This was the most casual you had ever seen him, but he was still possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

“Dinner will be served soon, would you like to sit?” he offered.

“To be honest Las, I’d just like to know what question was so pressing to you,” you admitted. “It’s been on my mind all afternoon.”

“Will you not allow me to romance you first?” he joked, reaching out to take your hand. His was cold as usual, but you barely noticed despite the warmth of the room.

“Laszlo,” you chided lightly. “You can romance me after.”

“We should sit,” Laszlo insisted. “There are some things I wish to tell you.”

“You’re scaring me again,” you warned as he led you to one of the plush sofas.

“I know liebling, but I promise everything will be alright,” he soothed. “First of all, I’d like to tell you that I love you very much and from the first moment I saw you I knew I wanted to be with you.”

You felt your heart soar at his words, but his body language yet again did little to calm your nerves.

“I do hope you feel the same about me, and I would very much like to marry you, but there are a few things about me that you should know before you make up your mind.”

It felt like all the air had been driven from your lungs and you felt yourself start to tremble.

“I have no doubt you have heard the rumors about me, saying that I am something other than human. They are not entirely incorrect.”

You felt frozen, sure that the pounding in your ears was your heartbeat. You could hear Laszlo’s housekeeper placing the dinner on the table in the dining room behind you, the tension in the parlor preventing her from interrupting.

“I would never hurt you, I love you very much. If you wish to leave, I understand and I will respect your decision.”

Your eyes were brimmed with tears as your mind raced. Laszlo had just asked to marry you, and in the same breath admitted to being what your mother gossiped about.

“Was my mother right about you?” you asked in a shaky voice. “Are you some bloodthirsty monster that preys on womens’ desires?”

“No liebling,” Laszlo denied. 

“Then explain,” you demanded, fighting the urge to pull your hand out of his grasp. “What are you?”

“I am what most people refer to as a vampire,” he began. 

“Like Carmilla?” you said with an incredulous chuckle.

“If it helps you understand, then yes,” he laughed.

“Don’t vampires burn up in the sun?” you asked, that being the first question to come to your mind.

“No, that is purely fiction,” he explained. “Would you like to move this conversation to the dining room so we can eat before our dinner gets cold?”

You could tell that he was attempting to diffuse some of the tension that had crept into the atmosphere, but you nodded anyway and let him lead you to the dining room. The table was intimately set, with a place at the head of the table for him and a place directly to his left for you, candles placed in the center of the table gave the room a romantic atmosphere.

“I can tell you have more questions liebling,” Laszlo prompted as he poured wine for the both of you. “Do not be afraid to ask, you won’t offend me.”

“Well,” you hummed, taking a sip of wine while you collected your thoughts. “You can obviously eat normal food, but don’t you still need to…” 

“Consume blood?” Laszlo finished for you. “Yes.”

“Where do you- How- You don’t hurt people do you?” you stammered.

“No, I do not hurt people,” he promised, taking a moment to appreciate your kind heart. “Believe it or not there are people willing to let creatures like me…”

“Feed?” you offered.

“Yes,” he affirmed. 

“I believe it,” you said, just above a whisper.

Laszlo lifted his gaze to meet yours only to find you staring down at your plate with an intense blush on your face. He could hear your little heart pounding in your ribcage, he was finding it dreadfully distracting. At his silence, you glanced up at him to find him staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“Las?” you questioned. 

“Apologies my dear, I was expecting a different reaction,” he explained. 

“Understandable,” you agreed. “I imagine people would be quite fearful when they find out about something like this.”

“And yet, you seem to have adjusted to the knowledge quite quickly,” Laszlo observed.

He was right and you knew it, it felt as though deep down, a little part of you had believed the rumors your mother and aunties loved to spread. Perhaps you were scared, maybe that was the feeling stirring in your gut, or maybe it was something else entirely. But you didn’t care, you loved him. 

“Yes,” you confirmed. “I think part of me suspected something even though I didn’t know what.”

“Your unconscious mind was aware of something even though your conscious mind wasn’t,” he explained in what you call his Dr. Kreizler voice. You couldn’t help but giggle at his change of tone, your reaction causing Laszlo’s eyebrows to furrow. “Did I say something funny?”

“No darling,” you said with another small giggle. “Your tone tends to change when you speak about matters of the mind.”

Laszlo let out a chuckle of his own at your comment, the outer corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile. You loved it when he laughed; he was usually such a stoic person, so on the occasions that he did laugh, you felt your heart do somersaults.

“Laszlo?” you said in a more serious tone. 

“Yes dear one?” he responded, his beloved smile dropping from his face.

“How did you become a vampire?” you asked, with trepidation in your voice.

“An unfortunate encounter during one of my interviews with inmates, the man attacked me as soon as the guard left us alone. I can only assume he hadn’t fed in months and so took the opportunity I presented him with,” Laszlo told you. “Luckily however, the guard was close enough to hear me and intervene before I was killed.”

You were expecting a horrifying story, but still his words caused you to gasp.

“Because he did not drain me, nor did he have the chance to seal the wound he gave me, his venom entered my bloodstream and triggered my transformation,” he finished.

“When did this happen?” you asked. “Does anyone else know, I mean, other than the people who let you feed?”

“Only about 4 years ago,” he answered. “And yes, a few people. Naturally Cyrus and Stevie as they are the people who helped me to survive the transformation and told me about how to find people willing to donate their blood. John Moore found out by accident when purely by coincidence, the person I fed from worked out of the same establishment that John was visiting for a different vice.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the odds of running into someone you knew at one of hundreds of brothels in New York City were slim, but if the person you saw was John Moore, then the odds were slightly better.

“Sara Howard knows as well,” Laszlo added with a fond smile. “Though she figured it out through detective work and when she was sure, confronted me in my office at the institute.”

“Does Theodore know?” you questioned.

“No, I doubt he would have introduced us if he had,” he said.

“I don’t think he would handle the knowledge very well,” you mused.

“Neither do I,” Laszlo agreed.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you allowed all the new information to sink in, the tension from earlier had almost completely disappeared. Taking a sip from your forgotten wine, you remembered something from Laszlo’s original admission.

“Were you serious about wanting to marry me?” you asked, returning your attention to the man next to you.

“Yes, entirely,” Laszlo confirmed. “If you’ll have me, I would very much like to be your husband.”

“And I would very much like to be your wife,” you replied, tears welling in your eyes for the second time tonight, though this time was for a very different reason.

Laszlo’s face lit up brighter than the morning sun as he stood, took your hand and pulled you up and into a bone crushing hug. You reciprocated instantly, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling your face into his neck.

It was as if Laszlo’s heart had started to beat again when you accepted his proposal, his senses going wild when you returned his hug. He was surrounded by your scent, he could feel and hear your heart hammering, the heat from your body seeping into his. 

“I love you meine schatz,” Laszlo whispered into your ear.

His words and proximity sent a shiver down your spine and something told you that the feeling you had stirring in your gut wasn’t fear at all, but instead something closer to desire.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, hoping that Laszlo had missed the way you reacted to his words, but knowing he probably hadn’t. Your suspicion was confirmed when he pulled back, the look in his eyes almost lustful as his hand came up to cradle your face.

“Can I kiss you Schatz?” he asked politely.

You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay even. You closed your eyes as he leaned forward, his soft lips meeting yours and setting off sparks behind your eyes. This was the first time you had ever kissed anyone, and all too soon it was over. Laszlo was smiling down at you when you opened your eyes, his pupils blown wide as he gazed into yours.

“Can we do that again?” you asked breathlessly.

Instead of responding with words, Laszlo leaned forward once again to place his lips on yours, the kiss was deeper this time as you let him guide you. His beard scratched lightly against your chin, his mustache tickled your top lip, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to care, lost completely in the feeling of his mouth on yours. You let out a content sigh, and Laszlo took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Again, you felt Laszlo start to pull away, though this time you tried in vain to follow, not ready to let this feeling go. He didn’t go far though, just far enough to look into your eyes.

“Would it be improper for me to ask you to take me to bed?” you asked timidly.

“Yes, but when have I ever cared much for propriety?” Laszlo teased. “Are you sure you want to though, I would hate for you to think we had to just because we kissed.”

“I’m sure Las,” you insisted. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it on more than a few occasions.”

“Naughty girl,” Laszlo mirthlessly scolded before leaning down to kiss you again. This one only lasted a moment or two until he pulled back to lead you out of the dining room and up the stairs, he could hear your heart pounding faster as you neared his bedroom. As soon as the door was closed behind you, Laszlo reached up to undo the buttons on the front of your dress, making quick work of them even though he only had use of one of his hands. In turn, you began to undo the buttons on Laszlo’s waistcoat and shirt, only pausing to let your dress slide off and to the floor. Slipping one hand under his shirt, you used the other to push his suspenders off his shoulders, his skin was cold to the touch, but remarkably soft. 

“You’re cold,” you pointed out.

“That tends to happen when you don’t have blood of your own,” he joked.

The touch of his cold hand on your shoulder made you jump, Laszlo only chuckled as he leaned down to kiss along your jawline. He nipped softly at the skin of your neck as he reached around you to untie the laces of your corset, his hand frantically loosening the strings in his desperation to feel your warm skin. When that too was loose enough, Laszlo gave it a tug resulting in your corset falling to the floor. 

You were struck then with the intimacy of your current state, you standing there in your under clothes, Laszlo’s shirt undone and untucked. Only when the back of your knees bumped into the edge of the bed did you realize he had been walking you backwards while he ravished your neck with kisses. He took his time undressing you the rest of the way, kissing you wherever he could.

“You’re so warm,” Laszlo almost moaned. “I fear I may become addicted.”

“I’d be alright with that,” you respond, your voice coming out breathy and soft.

You felt him smile against your skin as he left one more kiss on your neck before stepping back. His gaze was dark and almost predatory as he let his eyes wander your naked body for the first time, his staring making you blush all the way from the tips of your ears down to your chest, your confidence from earlier had almost completely disappeared.

“Laszlo,” you breathed. “Touch me, please.”

“Of course dear one,” he promised with a grin, it may have been your imagination, but you could have sworn you caught a glimpse of fangs behind his lips.

Laszlo’s touch made you shiver as he ghosted his fingertips against your shoulders and down your chest, you couldn’t help but let out a moan when he teasingly pinched your nipple. 

“Las,” you whispered with your moan. “Please.”

“What’s wrong liebling?” he prompted with a light mocking tone. “I thought you wanted me to touch you, is that not what I’m doing?”

“Please don’t tease me,” you begged, leaning into his touch. 

“Be good and I’ll give you exactly what you need,” he promised. “Tell me what you want.”

“I- I want, I need you,” you stammered. “Please, I’ll be good.”

“I know liebling, you’re just so cute when you beg, I can’t help myself,” Laszlo confessed, finally trailing his hand down your waist, his fingers delving between the folds of your cunt. You couldn’t help the needy whimper that escaped your throat as he circled your clit with a feather-like touch. “Have you ever touched yourself here before?”

You shook your head at his question, embarrassment flooding through you.

“Then allow me to show you the pleasures available to you.” His voice was dripping with honey as he laid you down on the bed, he seemed huge as he hovered over you.

“Please,” you begged again, you were growing desperate at this point. You watched as he rose from the bed just long enough to rid himself of his trousers and underclothes before coming back to kneel between your spread legs. Your moans flowed freely as his fingers circled your clit again, his weaker hand resting on your hip keeping you grounded as your fiance pleasured you. Slowly, he pushed his fingers against your entrance causing your hips to buck into his hand. Laszlo chuckled quietly before pushing inside, his cold fingers filling you was like nothing you could have ever imagined.

“You’re so warm, liebling,” Laszlo praised, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

“I want it,” you keened. “Please.”

“Soon, dear one,” Laszlo whispered. “Soon.”

You opened your mouth to beg again, but all that came out were moans. His thumb was rubbing quick, tight circles on your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out. There was a hot sensation growing in your core, getting stronger the more he moved, you didn’t know what it was, but you knew you wanted more.

“Cum for me liebling,” Laszlo instructed, he made it clear that this was not a request as his fingers sped up.

It felt like something inside of you snapped and it felt like the heat that had been growing inside you was doused with ice water. A rush of pleasure tore through your body, your back arching off the bed and a cry left your lips.

“Enchanting,” Laszlo mused as he watched you come down from your intense high. “Would you still like me to continue?”

“Yes,” you urged, eyes popping open to meet his gaze. “Please Laszlo, I need it.”

“Well then,” he teased. “I suppose you’ve earned it.” 

All you could do was whine as he pulled his fingers from your heat. You didn’t have to wait long for relief though, as he quickly notched his cock at your entrance. As he pushed into you, he leaned forward to brace himself on his elbow which he placed next to your head. You cried out again as he bottomed out. 

“Laszlo,” you whined, you had never felt more full.

“I know dear one,” he soothed. “Breathe for me.”

You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath, sucking air back into your lungs you felt the blood rush to your head making you feel like you were floating. You clung desperately to his shoulders as he slowly began to move, your nails digging into his cool, soft skin. He dropped his head to rest his forehead in the crook of your neck, laying gentle kisses along your jawline.

“You feel like heaven liebling,” Laszlo moaned, his voice raspy and lustful. “You’re doing so well, such a good girl.”

You moaned in response, his words and his cock making coherent thought almost impossible. The sound of your moans mingled with his praises and sounds of skin on skin as he built up his pace until he was properly fucking you into the mattress. It wasn’t long until you felt another orgasm incoming.

“La-ah, Laszlo, I’m gonna cum,” you warned, your voice coming out more whiny than you would have liked.

“So am I,” he answered, leaning down to kiss you. Your lips felt like fire on his, the feeling sending him over the edge.

His moans were music to your ears, the feeling of his cock twitching inside you spurred your own orgasm. Lights danced behind your eyes as you came down from your high, your breath mixing with Laszlo’s between kisses and worn out moans, he let himself drop softly, his arm no longer able to hold him up. 

If someone asked you how long you spent like that, his weight acting as a comforting blanket, his face pressed into your neck, you couldn’t have told them. He pressed soft, lazy kisses to your skin as you rubbed your hands up and down his back. The thing that snapped you out of your blissful haze was the feeling of Laszlo’s sharp teeth dragging lightly on your skin. You couldn’t help the little gasp you let out.

“I’m sorry,” Laszlo apologized, rushing to pull away from you. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No,” you begged, holding tight to his shoulders. “I’m not scared, you just startled me is all… I, I wouldn’t mind, if you…”

“Liebling, I couldn’t ask you for that,” he tried to deny.

“You’re not,” you promised. “I’m asking you for it, that way, you wouldn’t have to go to those establishments anymore.”

There were very few things that could strike Laszlo Kreizler as speechless, and hearing this desire of yours surely was one.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” Laszlo said, doing absolutely nothing to convince you otherwise.

“I’ll let you know if it’s too much, but I trust you, and I want to try, to know what it’s like,” you urged.

“There’s no convincing you, is there?” he teased, chuckling at the quick shake of your head. “Alright dear one, just let me clean up our little mess first, ok?”

“Ok,” you agreed, letting go of him so he could stand up. You watched as he went to retrieve a damp washcloth from the bathroom across the hall, a smile on his lips when he returned to see you laying fucked out in his bed. His touch was feather light on your skin, as he cleaned away the mess from between your thighs.

“Ready?” Laszlo asked, setting the cloth on his bedside table. 

“Yes,” you reassured, climbing into his lap when he beckoned you closer. “Will it hurt?”

“Only for a moment,” he explained as he brushed the stray hairs away from your neck. “I promise I’ll take care of you, the pain will only last a second or two and after that it should give you pleasure. When I’m done, I’ll make sure it’s healed.”

You listened intently while he explained everything, trying to suppress the smile at his ‘Dr. Kreizler voice’.

“Yes, Dr. Kreizler,” you teased when he finished, your smile coming to the surface.

“Ready?” he asked with a small smirk of his own.

You just nodded, the gravity of your position beginning to sink in.

He leaned forward slowly, pressed a sweet little kiss to your throat, and sunk his teeth in. You yelped in pain before relaxing into his embrace as a euphoric feeling took over you. The feeling of your blood being sucked from your veins should have made you uncomfortable, it should have terrified you, it should have made you feel a whole multitude of things, but it didn’t. You trusted him, Laszlo would never hurt you. Never.

[italianraviolos]

MAN I'D LIKE TO RIDE AND WHY

(I don't know why I'm doing it, I just wanted to tell someone)

Smut content down below please be careful while reading it.

Also, I made this list based on my personal view so the "reader" (if it can be called like this) is female, since I use the pronounce she/her.

1) LASZLO KREIZLER

First of all, I don't believe this man is a total sub, for me he's definitely a switch, so... To me it would be much more fun, cause he may have an attitude while letting me ride him anyway. Another good reason that must not be left out is the fact that this man has a certified DAD BOD and a literal a fat cock (see the fact he likes to eat), and in my cracked mind, people with a Dad body are unbreakable, that means that I can bounce on them without breaking them... (being curvy and definitely chubby myself, that last point is really important to me), CERTIFIED TURN ON.

2) DONNY DONOWITZ

Just look at him...

BIG DICK ENERGY

He manages to have a dad bod and be fit at the same time...

He definitely satisfies my size kink.

Again my cracked mind says he would definitely NOT BREAK

Also, I don't know but he gives vibes of switch with sub tendencies, so it would be so enjoyable to be on top of a so feared man, makes me feel empowered.

Also he has the most mesmerizing eyes, it would be so intense to look at them while doing it.

3) FRANKIE MORALES

CERTIFIED DILF

Again... DAD BOD (I don't know if consider it a kink of mine at this point...)

But I have to admit it, this case is the exact opposite.

I'd like to ride him to see him break, cause in my head this man would just "explode" of pleasure if a woman ever rides him... I volunteer as a tribute.

He would be all sweaty, hands lingering on your hips unable to grasp at them anymore, mouth slightly open and eyes closed... Cause it's just way too much.

4) LETO ATREIDES

CERTIFIED DILF AND CERTIFIED DAD BOD

Time to explain another cracked reasoning of my mind: when a man has kids, that's the proof that his balls work right.

I don't know why I find that hot, I don't even wanna have kids, it's my head that is demaged.

BIG DICK ENERGY.

Also, the idea of riding a so powerful man thrills me way too much.

5) CRISTOPH WALTZ

DILF ENERGY

I don't know... He's definitely not the youngest in the list, so I think it would be kind of nice and slow, just really intimate and SO INTENSE.

I figure intense gazes, light touches, soft breaths and whimpers while his arm is wrapped around my waist.

JUST WOW

And...

I FIRMLY BELIEVE I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO IS DEFINITELY CONVINCED THIS MAN HAS A HUGE DICK.

p.s.

He speaks german that is a sort of a sweet tooth for me.

6) HELMUT ZEMO

CERTIFIED DILF (I hit a nerve though)

CERTIFIED DAD BOD

CERTIFIED CHEST HAIR

He has everything...

Even though I see him as someone who could use sex as a simple way to blow off some steam without being romantically involved, he gives the vibes of someone that if is really in love, is all for the intimacy.

He gives me similar vibes to Christoph Waltz, just a little rougher, maybe a tug at the hair or a tighter grip on the waist, but just really intense and even more intimate.

THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK TODAY, IF YOU HAVE ARRIVED AT THE END OF THE POST, BE AWARE OF THE FACT THAT I WANT TO RIDE YOU TOO.

[starlightsearches]

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

Feel Me

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

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

Laszlo Kreizler x femme! reader

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

Dr. Kreizler has his face between your legs.

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

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

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

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

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

And who could blame him?

"There's been no improvement?"

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

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

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

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

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

"It feels . . . alright."

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

"And this?"

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

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

"Fine."

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

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

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

"It is."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's right. You can.

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

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

“It feels—“

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

"I— Laszlo, I need more."

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

"Lift up your skirt," he whispers instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[f1yogurt]

Fic Masterlist - f1yogurt

AO3 Link - much more organized than this list (and includes tags)

Taglist - please fill this out if you would like to be tagged in my fics

** indicates smut and Minors DNI 18+ fics

Daniel Brühl Characters

(It's my goal to eventually have at least one fic written for each of his characters so stay tuned.)

The Danny Bunch Headcanons

kinks** - sub! hc's about the boys and their kinks

facial hair - danny bunch and facial hair

Helmut Zemo

A Long Day - sleepy cuddles, Zemo x gn!Reader

Baron of Mine - spy!AU, Zemo x fem!Reader

Flirting with Royalty - Baron Zemo x servant!Reader

Pretty in Purple** - sub!Zemo x Dora Milaje

Hold Me Tight - huddling for warmth, Bucky x Zemo

Laszlo Kreizler

smut prompt drabble** - Laszlo x gn!Reader

Niki Lauda (find more in Classic F1 RPF)

Snapshot in the Fast Lane** - set in 70s F1, Niki x fem! photographer Reader

That Ferrari Jacket** - technically RPF but it's smut involving Niki's racing jacket, sub!Niki x gn!Reader

drunk!Niki headcanons

Andrea Marowski

Subby thoughts for Andrea** - sub!Andrea

Sebastian Zöllner

What a Brat Gets** - you teach Seb a lesson in patience, sub!Sebastian x Reader

Lieutenant Horstmayer

You're My Lifeline** - an A/B/O Joyeux Noel fic with omega!Horstmayer x alpha!Audebert x beta!Gordon (on temporary hiatus)

Cross My Fingers - part of the Joyeux Noel Halloween fic challenge! Horstmayer whump.

Dirk (All Together)

For Old Times' Sake** - sub!Dirk x fem!Reader (on temporary hiatus)

Classic F1 RPF

Snapshot in the Fast Lane** - set in 70s F1, Niki x fem! photographer Reader

Pit Stop - the first meeting (based on true events) between Niki & James

Love Will Keep Us Together - Niki, James, and many other classic F1 boys partying it up

That Ferrari Jacket** - smut involving Niki's racing jacket, sub!Niki x gn!Reader

In My Blood - a Niki Lauda drabble

Breakfast In Bed - a sleepy morning with Niki x James x John

drunk!Niki headcanons