#ulysses klaue

[minilev]

[eupheme]

— fold into me

ulysses klaue x f!reader

rated e - 2k

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

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

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

Klaue can hear you worry.

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

You shouldn’t be awake. Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

That he was a bad man.

But never to you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Klaue,” You protest, “I was just-”

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

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

And so, you go still.

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

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

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

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

The worry slips right back in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, then.” He rasps.

And then, he goes still.

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

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

He wants you to do it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

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

It’s bliss, this frozen moment in time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[notrandtumblin]

This is part 3 of this daunting task I’ve undertaken of using statistics and tumblr pals to find out who the best casting choice of the marvel universe is.

This poll contains many of Phase 3’s characters. On my page are polls for Phase 1 and 2. I will continue to do this until we’ve exhausted the MCU. I will then move on to Fox and Sony Marvel properties plus any MCU ones I may have forgotten.

Stick around and help me conduct this entirely pointless science experiment that has no bearing on nearly anything in my life.

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

[ Part One ] - [ Part Two ] - [ Part Three ] - [ Part Four ] [ Part Five ] - [ Part Six ] - [ Part Seven ] - [ Part Eight ]

[citrus-moonlight]

Danger Starts the Sharp Incline

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Demon!Klaue x Fem Scientist Reader Chapters: 1 of 1 Word count: 4.5K Rating: Explicit

Summary: At your scientific organization the study of demon energy output has become no less mundane than it would at any other research facility. That is until you find yourself trapped with the demon who has recently shifted in your thoughts from an idle curiosity to a distraction.

Warnings: Explicit Rating!, No Age Specified, PWP, One Shot, Smut, Let Me Be Clear: This Is Absolute Filth, Monster Fucking, Demon Fucking, Could be viewed as Dubcon, Implied Mind Manipulation, But to be clear reader is Into It, Pet Names, Touch Starved Demon, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Big Hands I Know You're the One, Unprotected PIV, Size Kink, Squirting, A Lot of Demon Cum, Like A Lot, Cum Marking, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms (both), Overstimulation, Possessiveness

A/N: Once again, this was supposed to be a quick little smutty thing that ended up getting very, very away from me. This honestly could have been even longer (it was over 5.5k and counting at one point!), but I managed to reign myself in, lol. I almost feel like I have enough for a part two, so who knows, perhaps I'll revisit this AU one day in the future!

This was inspired by the first bit of this absolutely incredible demon/scientist blurb* by @biscuitdragonwithastick, which you should definitely read first (thank you for the ok to go ahead with this!). It fully dug its claws (pun intended?) into my brain and refused let me go. I couldn't stop thinking about a Demon!Klaue AU, and thanks to some lovely encouragement, this is the result!

Please, please mind the tags, my dears, and thank you for reading!

*Demon's name has been changed here to fit the AU

Dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics ❤️

Work title is from "All Mine" by Portishead

AO3 Link

Make no mistake You shan't escape Tethered and tied There's nowhere to hide from me All mine You have to be

Klaw’s reaction continues to be noted by the higher-ups, and eventually it’s decided that they want to conduct an experiment, using you.

The next time you’re scheduled on the cleaning rotation they want to take the opportunity to determine if there’s a measurable difference in output and chemical composition - before and after you’ve been in the room with him.

“Just consider what it might mean to the future of energy research”, they’d said. “It could lead to the discovery of a demon-sensitive pheromone additive that boosts energy output across the board.”

Although you flush at the outward acknowledgement of what’s been happening, you can’t deny that it intrigues you.

Especially since you had started dreaming about him.

Since you’d stopped being able to control how wet you got when you observed him.

Since the self-consciousness you’d felt at the sidelong glances of your colleagues had started feeling like something else. 

Something like pride.

* * * * * *

Two days later you’re scheduled for the night shift alone, with not much else to do but make the occasional note in the shift log and wait for the alarm that indicates the mare’s collection tank is full. So you wait. 

And watch.

For the first time you have a chance to really just look at him, and you’re finding it difficult to pay attention to the instruments that you should be monitoring. Your eyes instead are continually drawn back to the observation window and the thick mop of black curls that falls across his forehead where his horns emerge, sharp features are framed by the scruff of a dark beard, and an intriguing mix of tattoos, brands and scars play across the planes and curves of his body.

Although his muscles aren’t as chiseled as many of the demons you've observed in this facility his shoulders and arms are thick, and you unconsciously lick your lips as your eyes follow the dark hair that covers his broad chest and abdomen down to where it meets the wiry hair at the base of his cock.

A slick warmth has been slowly pooling between your thighs since you settled into your chair at the beginning of the shift, but as you watch the bored pumping of his hips fall into a smoother, swaying rhythm, that warmth ignites.

Widening his stance, hooved feet brace on the floor as he pulls out further before thrusting back in, letting you watch his cock slide slowly back into the machine’s opening, burying himself with a jutting roll of his hips, over and over. Almost teasing. 

Almost taunting.

This could be you.

It’s only when Klaw drags his hands along the metal “body” of the mare that you notice it: The claws of the first three fingers of his right hand seem to be…gone? 

With a flicker of concern you flip a switch on the console, using the camera to zoom in. 

Ok, no, they’re not gone per se, but they’re definitely shorter, nearly down to the quick. Was it an accident? Did they break in a fervor as he fucked the contraption? 

Frowning at the screen your mind turns over the possibilities, but before you can think to add the peculiarity to your notes your thoughts fizzle away when you glance back up to the observation window and see that he’s watching you.

As soon as your eyes meet his the tease in his movements falls away and he’s bottoming out hard against the opening in a rough, stuttered rhythm as his eyes cloud over, and you know from past observation that he’s nearing the edge.

Your inner muscles clench and the ache that’s been building since you walked in here swells and overlaps with a flaring jealousy when Klaw shudders and growls, filling the receptacle with another thick load of his seed.

You don’t even realize that you stood up until you feel the cool glass of the observation window beneath your palms, your breath fogging the surface as you press yourself against the barrier.

There’s still a slow, uneven cadence to the demon’s thrusts following his climax, but his gaze swiftly sharpens on you again when one of your hands drifts idly across your stomach, then lower, fingers brushing over the top button of your pants-

-and then you jump when a shrill sound interrupts you, nearly growling at the surge of frustration.

The alarm is piercing and incessant and won’t stop until you enter the demon’s room, so you return to the control panel to activate the sigil that will keep him contained while you clean and recalibrate the machine - tests having shown that a laser projection of the correct wavelength of light is just as effective as a physical binding.

Once you’re through the airlock you quickly set to working through the checklist, unhooking the mechanism that feeds into tanks in the floor and connecting it to a fresh one. You move on to cleaning the unfeeling hole that the demon fucks into day in and day out, your breath going shallow at the jealousy that continues to singe your nerves. 

His gaze stays entirely focused on you as you move around, cock swaying heavily in front of  broad thighs - still hard, always hard - the still leaking head so dark it’s nearly purple. 

The slick between your thighs has only increased since you started to work, fairly certain that you’ve soaked through your panties at this point, and when you have to pass closer to his “cage” he leans forward, nearly pressing himself against the barrier as he follows your path.

Inhaling deeply his cock twitches, more cum dripping from the tip as he ruts at the air, and you can't help but wonder if he’s picking up your frustrated arousal.

“Hurry up.” you chide yourself. “Stop getting distracted. Just finish your shit and get out.”

Kneeling down behind the machine you open the access panel and flip through the menus until you find the one that will complete the calibration, and while you’re focused on watching it cycle you don’t notice the outer door open from the hall into the observation room. 

The intern who enters must not see you where you’re kneeling on the floor, and evidently thinking that the trap has been left on in error he flips the switch to deactivate it.

When the light from the beaming sigil goes dark you pop up in alarm, the face of the intern frozen in an almost comedic grimace of horror when he finally registers that you’re staring back at him from the wrong side of the glass. 

The man reaches for the switch again but Klaw’s reflexes are faster, and before the trap can be reactivated the demon rushes the door. Slamming his shoulder against it he jams it so thoroughly they'll need to bring in special equipment to get it open again, but at this time of night it'll be hours, if you’re lucky, before a crew gets here.

Then he rounds on you.

With an oddly warm sense of detachment you think that you should feel fear as you watch the slow grin spread across his face, but the only thing you feel is a surge of hot, aching desire. 

He rumbles something you don’t understand, though the rough texture of his words is still intoxicating, and before you realize what you’re doing you’re walking towards him, pulling your shirt over your head as you move. 

Because right now you find that you want - need - to bare yourself for him, the sensation of it intense that your skin feels like it’s going to scald if you don’t get your clothes off now, and your shoes, pants and underwear quickly join the discarded pile on the floor.

Stopping in front of him you reach back to unclasp your bra, but your arms pause mid-way when Klaw’s hand reaches out, your breath hitching when he hooks a large, clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his.

You’d always assumed that his eyes were black, but this close you realize that they’re actually an impossibly deep blue, a blue that only resides along the penumbra of light and shadow where the last rays of sun reach into the depths of the ocean

You stand mesmerized as his hand dips lower, leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh as a claw trails gently down the delicate skin of your neck and chest, and then with a flick of his wrist the last scrap of fabric covering you gives way, exposing your breasts to the cool air.  

You’ve barely shrugged off the ruined garment when suddenly you’re being picked up - so, so easily - and placed on a table, swiftly reminded of how much larger and stronger he is than you, and once again dimly aware that you should feel fear, or dread, or some instinct telling you to run.

Not of the shiver of anticipation that leaves your breath hitching in your chest. 

Definitely not the wild need blooming in your core as sharp teeth ghost along the place where your blood thrums, his breath hot and his skin hotter.

His mouth continues its path downward, pausing to lick at the soft swell of your breasts, taking a moment to pull and pluck at your nipples with his lips. A pleased growl vibrates against your skin when you lean back onto your hands with a moan, arching into the swirl of his tongue around your pebbled flesh. 

It’s not long, though, before he can no longer ignore the way this increases the heated musk between your thighs, leaving behind a wet trail of saliva as his mouth travels down, seeking the place where you’re already dripping for him.

The demon's hands nearly wrap entirely around your thighs yet his touch is almost cautious as he presses you open, mesmerized by the way you unfold for him like the petals of a flower, slick and shining.

HIs eyes are heavy lidded as thick fingers begin to tease through your folds, toying with your clit, surprising you with how softly he rolls it between thumb and forefinger, a grin curving the corner of his mouth when your hips buck into his touch.

Noting your reaction he repeats the motion, gently pinching and rolling the sensitive bud until your mouth drops open and your breath is coming in sharp gasps, his dark eyes staying fixed between your legs as thick fingers coax a warm, honeyed orgasm from you, leaving you keening and startled by the slow intensity of it.

You’ve barely caught your breath when you feel his mouth suddenly envelop your mound, lapping eagerly at your release as you whine and writhe beneath his tongue, overwhelmed at the stimulation.

It’s too much, all of this is too much, but as he continues licking and suckling at your sensitive flesh you find that you’re no longer fighting it, the hum of bliss that hadn’t yet faded already building to a fresh swell, and when his lips capture your clit with a sudden fluttering pressure your body stiffens as your second orgasm flares through you, sharper and brighter than the first. 

When he finally releases you he speaks again, but through the haze of afterglow it takes a moment for it to register that this time you think that you understand him, the word seeming to appear within your mind at the same time that you hear it from his glistening lips.

“Sweet.” 

With a start you look down at him and he pauses, head tilting, curiosity knitting his heavy brows. 

Not moving his eyes from yours, his voice is a low, tentative purr when he speaks again.

“Would your sweet cunt like..more?”

Holy fuck. You can understand him.

Your thoughts spin as the shock works its way through you, the analytical part of your mind attempting to parse what the fuck is happening. Is it the increased time in his proximity? The physical contact? Whatever the mechanism, you can suddenly hear- or perhaps more accurately feel - his words, somewhere deep in your conscience.

A firm nod, then, in answer to his question, a responding pull of his lips into a slow, pleased grin.

Dipping his head Klaw licks a broad, wet stripe up your cleft, and then he’s devouring you, slavering hungrily against your sex, drool mixing with your arousal as his lips and tongue work your aching bundle of nerves until you’re gasping shallow breaths, every muscle strung taught as you hover on the edge once more.

Seeking for an anchor your hands find his curved horns, warm and leathery beneath your scrabbling fingers, and then with a rasping cry you’re coming in long, surging waves, your entire body trembling as your hips chase every flutter of pleasure on the tip of his tongue. 

Dimly you think that he must be satisfied now, that you must be satisfied, yet it seems as though with every climax you only hunger more intensely for the next. 

Once your hands release his horns and fall limp at your sides Klaw straightens up, and then wrapping his hand around his cock he starts roughly stroking himself. 

Almost without thinking your legs fall open, shaky arms pulling your knees back to expose yourself to him, knowing he can see how your soaked cunt still clenches through the last waves of your orgasm, and it’s only a few more strokes before he’s coming with a rough jerk of his hips and you gasp at the heat, thick ropes of cum streaking across your slick folds and the insides of your thighs.  

Still breathing hard, the pumping of his fist gradually slows, a hand drifting along the curve of your inner thigh as his focus comes back to you. Gathering some of the sticky mess he left between your legs he drags it through your folds, and then suddenly a thick finger is sliding into you.

Even as you gasp at the intrusion you begin to understand that he had actually done it on purpose: Biting down those claws himself because, it seems, he had been thinking about this.

The realization that it was for you leaves your entire body humming, and as your hips cant up to meet the slow, almost teasing thrusts, there’s only one word that swells and ripens in your mind, uncertain whether it’s your word or his even as it falls from your lips.

“More.”

A knowing glint flashes in his eyes at your soft plea, and almost immediately you feel a second finger slipping against you. Just teasing his fingertips at your entrance at first he lets your juices slick them before pressing into you, both fingers together nearly as thick as a human cock.

You moan as he continues to slide them in and out of you, and just as you begin to sink into the ache of it, you moan low in your throat when suddenly he’s adding a third.

The heady pressure of him working three fingers into your already stretched hole is overwhelming, and you’re unsure whether you want to throw yourself towards the sensation or resist it, your body arching into him, yet tensing and pulling away at the same time.

But then he’s pressing you down onto the table, his hand nearly spanning the width of your chest to hold you in place as his fingers continue nudging deeper.

“Where are you going, little one? Going to have to take it if you want my cock." 

As if to emphasize his words he drags his erection against the inside of your thigh with a grunted sigh, a fresh streak of precum adding to the mess that he’s already left on you.

Because of course you do, and he knows it, has known it since you stopped being able to look away from his hunched form as he fucked into his mechanical mate, a warm curiosity growing into a distracting need.

And you know that he could have taken you at any time, could have forced himself into you as soon as your clothes were a forgotten pile on the floor. But instead, he’s been preparing you to take him properly, making you come until the only thing you know is his mouth and his fingers and you’re soft and trembling and ravenous.

“God yes.” You spread your legs wide again, giving him an obscene view of where his fingers are sinking into you, slick sounds filling the room as they pump faster now.

“There you go.” He croons above you. “Made for this, hmm?" 

Any attempt at a response trails into a choked cry when he finds that soft, needy spot deep inside you, a fresh, pulsing heat spreading through your already exhausted body as he takes you apart once more. Still pinned beneath his hand you’re unable to do anything but allow it to wash through you, shaking and whimpering as he continues to drag firm, curling strokes against your clenching walls.

Leaning down Klaw presses his face into your heaving chest, and your nipples tighten and ache as he licks languorously between your breasts, his huffed breath is hot against your skin.

As your senses filter back in your hands slowly begin to move, exploring the corded muscles of his neck and shoulders, trembling fingers tugging and sliding through his hair, and then up and over his horns again.

Letting your eyes slip closed you take in the ridged curve of them, a velvety pleasure blooming in your chest when he inhales sharply, cock throbbing against your thigh when your fingers wrap around the base of them.

Finally pulling his fingers out of you he tugs you up, turning around and repositioning you so that you’re straddling his broad hips as best you can. Strong hands support you, encouraging you to slide your slick folds along his shaft, a giddy sort of panic stuttering in your chest at the sudden awareness of the size of him where he twitches between your thighs.

Desperate whines that may as well be prayers slide from your throat when he lifts you higher and you feel the thick, bulbous head of his cock nudging against your entrance, the only words falling from your lips a whispered litany of “Oh my god oh my god oh my god."

“I’m not your God, little one,” he growls softly, words distorted as if you're hearing them through a sediment of granite and blood. "But you will worship me."

“Yes. Yes..Oh fuck, please.” 

Beneath your lilting plea you dimly hear gritted curses and words of encouragement as you circle your hips, your arousal making a slick mess of his cock.

You can't help how eagerly your hips rock down, seeking more, so lost in the sensations that you're unprepared when a hard press of your hips matches his upward thrust, and the thick head of his cock suddenly ruts up into you, and when he slips past the tight ring of muscle the feral sound from deep in your chest nearly matches his.

Panting open mouthed you hold him there before rising up, slowly, slowly, letting him slip out of you before sinking down to take him back in. You feel weightless beneath the obsidian glint in his eyes as he watches you repeat the motion again, and again, his arms helping you move as you start to shake from the effort of riding just the head of his cock.

Even now there’s something warm and urgent drawing your hand lower, and you’re unable to help feeling pleased when his eyes go heavy as his gaze follows your fingers down to where they press against your clit.

“So..needy.” he rumbles. “Better than I imagined.”

“You..imagined?” You pant, attempting to sound coy, but your words are thick with lust as you continue to roll your hips, forcing yourself down further down his length. 

Your movements are becoming less controlled now, and when your fingers slip and brush against his shaft you whimper at how fucking big he feels where he's stretching you open, and how much of him is still outside of you.

You can feel every slick ridge and vein beneath your hand, and as you slide it along his length the muscles of his thighs tense and flex beneath you, his breathing going rough as your messy strokes continue.

“Look at you taking my cock,” Klaw grits, the demon’s hips beginning to stutter up in short, sharp thrusts. “Such a good little pet.” 

His words trail into a low growl that vibrates through your body as you feel a hard throb beneath your hand, and then heat.

You gasp, continuing to writhe as he spills into you, coating your inner walls with his thick seed, and almost you feel as though you could come again just from the heat of it.

Fuck, you need more of that.

Need it deeper.

Even as the pulsing beneath your fingers slows he doesn't stop moving, finally coming inside of you seeming only to have tipped his need to fevered desire. Holding you in place he thrusts up harder, dislodging your hand, and you can feel his spend leaking out of you, dripping down the insides of your thighs and slicking his still hard cock as he continues to drive deeper, no longer letting you set the pace. 

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He taunts, voice still a rough half-whisper after his orgasm. “Could feel it when you watched me. Wanted me to fill your little cunt, hmm?”

“Yes.” You let out a growled sob, jealous anger surging through you. ”That..thing, doesn’t fucking deserve it.”

A flame crackles in Klaw’s eyes at your heated words, and you wonder with a jolt of awareness whether he hasn’t been just as desperate for this as you have, longing for you as he remained trapped in the torment of a cold, unfeeling machine. Driven purely by instinct, chasing his release over and over again but never being truly satisfied.

The sudden realization that you could give that to him floods you with almost as much pleasure as the agony of being filled with his cock.

You’ve barely processed the thought when you suddenly find yourself with your back once again pressed against the cool metal of the table, Klaw only pulling out of you briefly before thrusting back in, harder.

He continues a slow, controlled rhythm, both of you panting hard as you feel yourself softening around him, becoming more pliant as your body relents to every stroke until with a final arching rock of his hips your cunt is completely stretched and full, everything so impossibly tight that you can’t even clench around him.

He's never felt anything quite like you, the achingly tight grip of your pussy leaving him nearly breathless as he holds himself as deep as he can, huffing and grunting like a bull while he watches you writhe and spasm beneath him.

Then he starts to fuck you.

He tries to keep his strokes firm and measured at first, but he can’t hold back anymore and it's not long before his chest is heaving, lips curled in a snarl, and it feels as though you're being split open as he pulls you back onto his cock in time to meet every thrust. 

A scarlet thread runs through every cell of your soft animal body, stringing tighter and tighter as pleasure builds to the edge of breaking but then surging higher, a fresh ecstasy building on every peak. 

The tightening grip around your waist signals the absolute loss of his control and when you hiss at the sudden piercing bite of his claws he moves his hands to brace on the table instead, his broad body forcing your legs back towards your shoulders as he leans down over you, driving his cock as deep as he can get into your willing heat until he’s grunting and drooling above you. 

A divine bliss slides through your veins as you lie beneath him, caught between the trammel of his arms, and as you watch his base instinct take over you begin to understand that only fools could believe that lust is a sin. 

And even if it was, even if you were offered perfect grace in this moment, you know with absolute certainty that you would refuse.

An infernal dam is finally swelling to breaking as you surrender to every relentless thrust of his cock, your wailed sobs the only sounds you can make as an impossible pressure ripples through your core, and with a deep throb you suddenly feel a drenching heat as your release washes over his cock and your thighs. 

“There you go.” Klaw growls. “Make a mess for me, little one.” 

This seems to be his final undoing, and as you continue to soak his cock his thrusting goes ragged until with rough groan he’s coming deep inside you, stilling himself to keep the head of his cock pressed against the deepest part of you, making sure that you feel every hot, throbbing pulse of his cum as it fills you.

Keeping himself seated deep he rocks slow grinding thrusts into the slippery mess he’s made of his you, the lust that’s had no real outlet finally finding satisfaction in the way your clenching cunt is milking his cock, in the gentle swell of your belly as he pumps you full of his seed.

You’re a sweaty, twitching mess beneath him, and as much as you wish you could you’re unable to take all of it, can’t help how it spills out around his cock where you’re stretched and sore, how his cum and yours drips down your swollen sex to pool beneath you on the table.

His hands don't stop moving over your body, cupping your breasts, grasping at you hips, sliding over the ripe swell of you where he can feel you filled with his cock and his cum. Vaguely aware of soft grunts mixed with mumbled praise, you don’t register what he’s saying at first through the haze of euphoria.

“Going to be mine.” he rumbles, between languorous strokes. ”My little queen.” 

“Mine.”

* * * * * * *

The room is warm and flickering, silken sheets decadent beneath your fingers, your body thrumming with a heated anticipation that never seems to fade, now.

Rough hands lift your hips as your demon mounts you from behind, a hand placed firmly between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.

A panting whine slides from your throat as he spreads you open, the thick head of his cock prodding your entrance, pleased to see you’re still dripping with his seed from the last time he filled you. And he doesn’t like leaving you empty for very long.

“Say it again, little one.” Klaw growls softly, holding himself still. Waiting.

“Yours.” 

You sigh, a smile curling around the word as he pushes into you.

“I’m yours.”

A/N: As ever, thank you for reading! This was definitely a bit outside my comfort zone, but I hope you enjoyed this filthy little foray into monster fuckery. 😊

[aintinacage]

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

William Shakespeare’s Avengers (Part 51/?)

[hjbirthdaywishes]

April 20, 2024

Happy 60 Birthday to Andy Serkis.

[itsmoocoo201]

[tarabyte3]

Blorbo alignment chart by gallusrostromegalus

This popped up on my fyp and I knew I had to make one for Andy Serkis characters.

[Kino Loy, Star Wars: Andor; Gollum, The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit; Pvt. Thomas Quinn, Deathwatch; David, The Cottage; Bill, Loop; Liam Black, BBC's The Accused; Ulysses Klaue, Black Panther; Capricorn, Inkheart; David Robey, Luther: The Fallen Sun]

[minilev]

would you post the art of klaue pulling at his tie by itself because i need that as my phone wallpaper. i’m screaming with and without the S. i love you

I drew him partially to begin with, but i hope this little edit helps

[tarrensbookmarks]

Marvel

➼ Ulysses Klaue ‣Bringin' Home The Rain by the-eyes-of-andyserkis Ulysses Klaue x FReader [Part One] {Part Two] ‣Think I Need a Devil to Help Me Get Things Right by the-eyes-of-andyserkis Ulysses Klaue x F!Flight Attendant!Reader ‣Kitten's Got Klaue(s) by eupheme Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader ‣Fold Into Me by eupheme Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader

➼ Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier ‣Petrichor by thornsnvultures Bucky Barnes x Plus size!F!Reader

➼ Miguel O'Hara/Spiderman 2099 ‣Miguel x Short!Reader by sunflowersteves ‣You're The Sunflower by fxllfaiiry Grumpy!Miguel x Sunshine!F!Reader ‣Honey-Sweet by fettuccin-e Miguel x F!Reader ‣More Than Enough by moonlight-prose Miguel x F!Reader

➼ Moon Knight ‣The Shades of the Moon by missdictatorme Virgin!Steven Grant x F!Reader ‣To Be Loved by moonlight-prose Steven Grant x F!Reader ‣Subtle Things by moonlight-prose Steven Grant x F!Reader ‣Love in a Single Breath by moonlight-prose Steven Grant x F!Reader ‣Echoes of You by moonlight-prose Steven Grant x F!Reader + phone sex

dividers by saradika-graphics

[eupheme]

— kitten’s got klaue(s)

ulysses klaue x f!reader

rated e - 7.6k

Tags: fun filth, flirting, annoyance-to-lovers, mention of alcohol, masturbation, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, sub/dom elements, fingering, one pussy slap, light choking, oral, dirty talk, sort-of degradation, rough sex

A/N: this is a request from ao3! And so inspired by the amazing Klaue fics by @tarrenterror25 and @the-eyes-of-andyserkis - please check them out! 💕

“Are you looking for anything else tonight, princess?”

You frown, “I didn’t ask for anything else.”

“I was thinking along the lines of dinner.” Klaue clarifies, before his voice lowers conspiratorially, “I do I love eating out.”

(You can’t stand him. So why can’t you stop thinking about him?)

He drove you mad.

You hated how he always seemed to press your buttons, wind you up. With everyone else, you were professional, and they returned that courtesy.

They’d meet you in clean-cut suits, never daring to let their eyes drag down your form like his did. Showing up to your meetings with a cocky grin and a wink - wearing khaki shirts that were half-unbuttoned.

Teasing you. Stepping a little too close, letting his voice lower until it was rough, husky rasp and you were imagining him saying other things to you, instead.

As if it wasn’t hard enough to negotiate, to keep your wits about you. Ensuring the family business was kept running smoothly.

Klaue was a wild card.

But he got you the things you needed, things that no one else could.

Unable to help dangling them, with narrowed eyes and a curving smirk, before handing them over.

Tonight, in your private office, he lets his hip bump yours. His chin sweeping against your shoulder as he opens the metal case. Letting you check through it, though you can feel the brush of his chest against your back with each breath, smell the sharp curl of his cologne.

Pointing out the details as you nod, noting with satisfaction that he’s managed precisely what you’re looking for.

All that was left was to agree to a price.

“It will do,” You sigh, putting on a show.

Turning, until you’re facing him. His hands shove into his pockets then, the shirt pulling tight across his chest.

His brow quirks, and your head tilts, “What are you looking for it?”

“Half-mil.”

You scoff at his answer, the sound sliding from your throat before you can stop it. A mark deepening between your brows, as your lips purse, “I thought you told me four.”

“I’ve told you a lot of things,” He shrugs, his eyes glittering, “You’re not the only one looking for this. Price’s gone up.”

It’s a bluff, you think.

Your eyes scan his, the sharp chips of bright blue. Down to the crisp white of the dress shirt he wears today. A loose tie that matches his eyes - a vest a few shades darker.

His jacket missing, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the dark ink on his arm - showing that he’s not like them. He’s his own man, not constrained to stuffy suits, pointed leather shoes.

Your fingers lift to his tie, tracing the knot. Carefully straightening it, before smoothing it down against his chest. It’s a soft attempt to gain the upper hand, to distract him - letting your eyes sweep over the flash of his tattooed sternum, the curl of grey-flecked hair peeking out.

“Four.” You repeat, an upward tilt of your chin, until you’re meeting his gaze again.

Where he’s watching, with half-lidded eyes. Curious and amused, the peek of his tongue as he wets his lips.

A long pause, a moment where you hold your breath - waiting for his answer. Before it comes, sliding through his lips with a grin.

“Fine.”

The two of you shake on it, biting back your own smile - your hand dwarfed in his. Trying not to think too much about it, the pressure of his grip, his thick fingers.

"There now. Aren't you going to thank me?" There's a lilt to his voice, the slight sweep of his thumb against the back of your hand.

"Thank you?" Your answering laugh is a short, derisive thing, "For accepting the price we had originally agreed upon? I don't think so."

You haven't thanked him before, and you certainly weren't about to start now.

He grins with a shrug, as the handshake lingers for just a moment longer - until your hands drop, and you’re closing the case. The money will be wired over tonight, the item shipped out in the morning.

Your job here is done.

But Klaue still hovers, arms crossed over his chest. Displaying his thick forearms, his hip pressing into the sturdy table.

Silently watching, until that glint in his eye is back. Until he’s asking, “Are you looking for anything else tonight, princess?”

The words drawn out, a suggestive lilt to the end. His little nicknames should probably make you bristle - a jab at your put-together veneer. But instead, his words make your stomach flip, butterflies taking flight.

You frown, “I didn’t ask for anything else.”

“I was thinking along the lines of dinner.” Klaue clarifies, before his voice lowers conspiratorially, “I do I love eating out.”

His tongue pinches between his teeth as he smirks, the look hungry. Amused with himself, how he flusters you so easily.

“I’m, um-” It’s difficult to find words, to tear your eyes away from his mouth. Even harder still, not to read into his words - to imagine hands pushing up the hem of your pencil skirt.

Wondering if he’d sink to his knees for you, right now.

What that hair would feel like, as your fingers wrapped in the curls and tugged. If you’d find out just how sweet his tongue is - even with security waiting right outside the door, ready and waiting to escort him out.

You think he would. His devil-may-care attitude has gotten him further than most, this would be nothing. It’s almost… thrilling.

Finding your voice, you finish lamely, “-I have another meeting, after this.”

He’s undeterred, moving closer. Stalking almost, two smooth steps with rolling shoulders, fingers touching down on your desk, framing your hips.

It had your mind wandering again, resisting the urge to arch into him, to close that small bit of space between you.

“Drinks then?” The gold in his teeth glint off the low lamp light as he grins. His voice lowering again, smooth as silk, “Or we could just cut to the chase, and go back to mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his boldness. Always circling with looks and teasing words, the slightest of touches, never a direct offer like this.

And god, it was tempting.

But the push-and-pull had always been a game you both played - you were not one to start agreeing so easily now.

“Inappropriate,” you murmur, but all he does is laugh.

His arms move then - spreading out wide.

Stepping back as he grins.

“Oh, princess. Are you going to tell daddy what a bad man I am?,” He challenges, “Go on then, call your dogs on me.”

Your lips are parting, his words doing something to you. A warmth curling in your stomach - stealing your words and your sharp tongue.

His look is knowing, “I thought so.”

The smug tone to his words being you back. Giving him your own look - annoyed and amused and oh so very curious.

A beat, before you ask, “Which bar?”

“The Andromeda.” The look in his eyes soften, along with his smile, “No business darling, just pleasure.”

You knew the place. It was new, trendy. Expensive, and you wonder if he’s trying to impress you, or if it was a genuine attempt to take you somewhere nice.

It was also popular with a number of your clients.

You consider him for a long moment. Before you surprise yourself, the words sliding from your tongue, “How about Neon Blue? 9pm. Less prying eyes.”

“Excellent,” Klaue smiles, and it’s a little different than others he’s given you. Missing a sardonic edge - almost as if he really is pleased.

“It’s a date, princess.”

You don’t know why you spend so much time primping. Still unable to believe that you had spoken up, agreed to meet with him.

But part of you knows why.

You’re curious.

Wanting to know what he’s like. To give into the silver-tongued compliments. See if the innuendos and insinuations are as accurate as he’s hinted at.

Because there’s no illusions to your meeting. An intent to his invitation, a clear resolution to the evening.

He’s a mercenary, an arms dealer.

God knows what else.

But tonight, you don’t really care about that. You’ve been circling each other for months, and there’s something freeing, knowing what he wants.

No strings attached. Just one night.

It was a win-win. Either you had a good time, and your fingers were crossed that it would be good - or if it went poorly, at least you’d stop imagining him late at night, when you were alone.

Wondering, replaying certain phrases. The looks he gives you, the ones you give in return. Gasping into your pillow, eyes screwed shut as you imagined your fingers were thicker. Longer.

You get to the nightclub early, sneaking out to take a cab instead of letting one of the drivers take you.

Thinking you’d scope the place out, find a nice little corner. A place to watch and see if he’ll really show up.

When you get inside, it’s already full. Rows of deep leather booths and glossy tables on one side. The light turned down low, a hazy blue. White neon script flashing with the music - some club tune you don’t recognize.

Furtively glancing around as you move deeper. Scanning the crowd until you land on a pair as bright as the namesake.

He’s already here. Already waiting.

A broad hand cupping his chin, just watching. A lazy grin, a crook of two fingers when you start to move his way.

Stepping out of the dark corner booth, letting you shrug off your fuzzy winter coat. Folding it in the corner as you slide in, and he fits himself in right next to you.

A waitress stops by a few minutes later. Dropping off a short glass with elaborate cuttings, filled with an amber liquid. A taller one - pretty and garnished with a bright red cherry, a little umbrella.

She beams at him as he slips her some extra cash, a wink. You try not to think about why your stomach flips, as he passes you the glass.

“How did you know what I drink?” You ask, peering down, into it. An exact replica of your usual, the same fruity tang when you take a sip.

His eyes are dark, watching. Another one of those smiles, the glint of his gold teeth, “I make it my business to know everything.”

Enigmatic. Infuriating.

Part of you should be concerned that he knew - but you knew how this world worked. How knowing and secrets were collected, used.

Instead, it has you interested. That he took the time to find this out about you, to order it in advance for your arrival.

“Well,” You allow, fingers tracing them stem, "I appreciate it."

He looks pleased, his eyes swooping over you, lingering, “You look beautiful. I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up.”

Your eyebrow arches, a low weight starting to warm in your belly, “Why is that?”

“You work too hard.” He comments idly, “Did you eat before you came here?”

It feels like a genuine question, his words holding none of the humor or sardonic edge that usually laces it. But it’s the first part that captures your attention, as you decidedly ignore the second.

“I didn’t know you were privy to my work schedule.” Your elbow presses into the glossy table top, your palm propping up your chin.

Angling yourself to look at him. Watching as he takes a drink from his own glass - the way his head tips back, the flex of his neck as he swallows.

All that skin, disappearing down to the buttons popped on his white dress shirt. The peek of hair and dark shadow of his tattoo - the tie discarded sometime between before and now.

You wonder what it looks like, the ink that swirls across his chest. You’ve only gotten glimpses of it. Wondering where else those tattoos spread.

Eyes flicking away when his hand drops, not wanting to be caught staring. Still catching the peek of his tongue as it swipes over his lip. A low hum, before he answers - a tilt of the glass in your direction.

“You answer my emails in the middle of the night.”

It’s not the answer you’re expecting. It throws you off balance, as you scramble for a response, “You travel constantly. How would you know what time it is here?”

The curl of his smile is knowing. Ignoring your question like you had his, as he copies your pose. Fingers stroking the edge of his beard.

“It’s always made me wonder, princess. Would you say it’s your work ethic?” He muses, before he leans closer, his voice dropping, “Or have I just made that much of an impression?”

You scoff, eyes rolling away. Focusing on your drink instead, head dipping to catch the straw - take a long sip.

“Why did you ask me to meet you then, if you know how busy I am?”

He sighs, then. Fingers drumming on the tabletop. A ruse, as his lips part - tongue brushing over teeth.

“Thought you could use some good stress relief.”

You scoff, “Is that right?”

An eyebrow cocks - that smile back,“You’re the one up at 4am, sweetheart. You tell me.”

Your eyes lock for a long moment. Flustered by the attention, not quite sure how to play this game.

His eyes drop to your mouth.

You muster up an answer, trying to match his cryptic answers, “I give you the same attention I give everyone else.”

“Is that right?” Klaue’s head cocks, a shift as his spread thigh brushes yours.

Too close, in this cramped booth. It has you distracted, watching the roll of his shoulder as his arms slings along the back of the booth.

“Who did you meet with after me, then?” He asks conversationally, as you suck the last of your drink through your straw, “Who else is so worthy of your time?”

Your eyes flick towards him, considering your answer, “I thought you said this was pleasure, not business.”

“I find that they have a tendency to mix,” His drink swirls in his glass, his eyes on yours as he tastes a long swallow. Your own drawn down to his mouth as his tongue peeks out to pass across his lower lip.

“Though, if it’s pleasure you want…”

You cut him off, with a little cock of your head. Fishing out a name just to see what he would say. A way to tease him back, even if it’s small.

“What if I said it was with Tony Stark?”

The grin on his face turns sharp, his eyes narrowing - calculating. A slight edge to his voice when he answers, “I didn’t know you did business with Stark.”

With Stark. With his shiny cars, and tailored suits and well-known playboy reputation.

“Are you jealous?” You ask, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“No.” Klaue scoffs - though he’s watching you.

He’s thinking about it, as his eyes jump between yours. Down to your mouth. Down, even further.

Amending his answer, with his gaze fixed on where one of your thighs crosses over the other - the expanse of skin where the short fabric pulls.

“Only if you let him taste you before I got the chance.”

They rise then, his look heated. Your own matching his, as he leans even more into your space.

Daring you to close that little gap between you. It would be so easy, to take what you know you both want. To tip your mouth up to his, to finally find out what it feels like.

But - you can’t deny it. That you want him to come to you.

So instead, your fingers dip inside the rim of your glass. Fishing out the cherry - letting him watch the way your lips curve around the plump fruit. Before you tug on the stem, a soft moan at the sweet taste.

His exhale is rough, a low noise in his throat as he leans forward. A wide hand cupping your jaw, the drag of his thumb across your lower lip, left glossy from the cherry.

Before your eyes flutter closed, and his mouth presses hungrily against yours.

You groan into the kiss, the brush of his tongue as you let him in. Months of tension finally snapping, as a spark ignite in your belly. Fingers reaching for him, grasping at a sleeve, anything you can reach.

Klaue leans into you, his hand tilting your jaw up to him. Pulling back the smallest bit so he can see how your eye lashes flutter, a grin as his other hand curls around your waist, pulling you closer.

Your hand on his sleeve sliding to brace against his broad chest.

Only breaking to suck in a breath, lips kiss-swollen as you glance up at him from under your eyelashes.

To where he grins with half-lidded eyes of his own - the bright flash of something cherry-red between white teeth, before he bites down.

Stolen right from your mouth, with a hot swirl of his tongue.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your words coming out soft and breathy, “I wanted that.”

He laughs, a rough sound that makes goosebump raise on your skin - making you want to kiss him again. Words low and slow and he leans in.

“I will get you more.”

His lips brush yours.

“I’ll give you anything you want.”

Kissing you again, tasting of whiskey and candy-sweet cherry.

Crowding you towards the back of the booth, in the dim corner. A hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you close - the other bracing against the edge of the table.

Your own wandering, brushing over a thigh, across his chest. Finding the deep cut of his open shirt, fingers slipping over ink and grey-peppered whorls of hair.

He licks into your mouth and you sigh - fully giving into him now. Wanting to feel his press of his bare fingers against your skin. Wanting to trace every inch of his tattoos - find out just where they go when they disappear under his shirt.

A brush then, of fingers. His grip loosening on the table, tracing a pattern against your knee. Curling against your thigh, his thumb sweeping across sensitive skin as your legs seem to nudge wider on their own.

His groan is filthy, deep and rasping. A slow inch of a fingertip just a little higher, towards where you’re aching and molten.

It’s dark, in this corner. The lights dimming as the evening goes on. You think you’d let him, in this moment. Let him touch you the way he’s thinking, with that teasing sweep of his fingers. A mutual testing of the water.

A dark look that passes across his face, when the kiss breaks. The tilt of his head, as he considers you - his fingers still firmly fixed in place.

Your lips part, but a voice interrupts you.

A man, calling out his name with a crisp familiarity. Klaue’s head turning, a short greeting barked out.

An impatient twitch of his fingers, the chill of his rings pressing against your thigh.

Against his will, he is pulled in. Unwilling to make a scene in such a public place, not with you in tow. It’d be different if it was in his office - over the phone. The man never would have stood a chance, then.

You wait, one minute sliding into the next. His thumb resumes its sweeping after one more, slowly inching upward.

Just brushing where you need it, where your heartbeat thuds.

It’s then, that you get another idea.

Your coat tucked across your lap, as if you’re cold. Not unusual, with the weather outside - all whipping, icy winds through the tall glass skyscrapers.

One more minute before your hand is slipping beneath. The nudge of your thighs as they widen just a little more. The press of your fingers as they map his.

Bringing him to bridge that final gap, a stifled moan when you push his palm to cup the heat of your cunt.

His hand freezes, for the briefest second. All four fingers curving against you, brushing against that pretty fabric, the heel of his hand nudging against the spot that seems to throb.

Just catching a sharp inhale of breath, a tightness in his shoulders. Before his fingers twitch - the slightest pull back so the tip of the middle strokes across your clothed slit.

Pressing against the fabric that you know he can feel is damp. The twitch of the others as they brush that overlap of warm skin and the cut of the elastic.

Each movement achingly slow, winding you up further. A fingernail catching under the edge of your panties, your own fingers gripping his arm in anticipation.

Almost dripping at the thought of his fingers sinking into you, right here. For him to feel how wet he’s made you, how easily it would be to fill you.

Thrilled with his split attention, knowing it’s more on you than the man’s questions, with the constant press and circle of his fingertips.

It has your eyes - your thoughts - drifting, as his touch continue. The lazy sweeping press against the soaked fabric. Swirling in soft circles as you feel yourself clench.

Unable to help the shift of your hips into his hand. Increasing the pressure, eyes unseeing as you lean into the pleasure, the secrecy. Both of them fueling the fire that roars in your belly.

The fingers pause for the briefest second. Pulling back - before landing a soft tap right against your cunt.

It makes you jerk - thighs pressing together as a spark arcs up your spine. Trapping him against you as your eyes flash to his.

Catching the curl of a smile and a heated look from the corner of his eye.

You think you can read it. The expression on his face.

“Behave.”

Or, perhaps it’s - “Eyes on Me.”

Yes, that seems more likely. Wanting your focus fully on him, taking what you had asked for.

So, you lean into it. Into him, that heavy bulk of a thick arm. The muscles flexing as you wraps yourself around it, with each press of his fingers.

The one that used to have tattoos - now replaced with dark seams that travel and split down his forearm.

A story that you haven’t been told before, but had heard whispers. Clinging to him like a second skin.

Leaving you to wonder, as your chest presses against him. The fingers of your other hand tracing over the deep crease in his trousers, where hip meets thigh.

Muscles tense under your fingertips.

The conversation now wraps up quickly. Funny how that is, as you stroke a path that slowly moves inward.

Those bright, hungry eyes back on yours the second the man turns.

Your low sigh, as your chin presses into his shoulder, “Thank god. I thought he’d never leave.”

At that, he smiles. White and gold and sharp, his eyes sweeping down to where you press against him.

“I was hoping he’d stay longer.” Klaue confesses, his voice low. Going lower - rougher - as he adds, “Wanted to see if I could make you come, right in front of him.”

His words catch in your chest, as heat burns in your face. The images flashing in your mind as his fingers twitch against the tight nub of your clit. Your thighs clenching around him as you think about it - him bringing you to the edge right there, and then crashing over.

“Is that right?” You try to match his tone - daring him, “Is that all you wanted to see?”

His grin sharpens, and his fingers leave you. Pulling up, before passing over his mouth in contemplation. As he inhales the scent of you, after.

“No. Not just that. And not here,” Klaue rasps, “Come with me.”

You let him take your hand as he slides from the booth. Hauling you up easily, as your coat tucks under your arm. Guiding you in front of him, as he ushers you towards the dark hallways in the back.

The thudding reverb of the music matching the one between your thighs. The press of him, hard and curving, against your ass every time you have to wait - pausing for people getting out of their booths.

The fingers on your hip pinching, squeezing. Letting him move in front as a bouncer steps aside with a nod, letting you both past.

A hand closing around your wrist again - a tug as you’re pulled into the first open room.

It’s dim as you enter - mood lighting bathing the room in light blue neon. An old disco ball turns, refracting the light in a bright glitter across the room. The back wall looking out into the city through a tinted window - framing the rounded booth beneath, the table set close in front of it.

The rest of the room blurring as the door snaps shut behind you. His hand splaying against the wall as he boxes you in - as you melt from the way he surrounds you.

A slow lean forward, as your hands brace against his chest, watching as your eyes drop to his mouth. Your own sliding shut after, as he closes the gap. Stepping into you, as his teeth nip at your bottom lip.

The slightest pinch, before he’s kissing you. Devouring you - so much more than before, at the table. Broad hands that cup your face, holding it in place. A palm that smoothes down your neck - wide enough to span the length, a thumb that rests in the hollow of your throat.

Your own hands finding thick shoulders - your coat dropping to the floor as his hips roll against yours. Teeth and tongue as the hard length of him digs into the curve of your hip, your breathing barely audible over the muted beats outside.

Hands wander again, palming your ass to press you flush against him. You own snaking down to cup him, feeling where he strains.

Klaue groans into your mouth. Pulling away with an effort, his eyes dark as you both stumble towards that rounded booth.

You wonder if he’s going to cage you in again - lay you down on the leather cushion as he stands between your thighs.

Instead, his hands are on your hips. Lifting you into the sleek top to sit. Your hands splaying across the glass as he slides into the booth proper. Hands catching under your thighs - a gentle push to spin you until your knees press into his ribs.

His eyes drag over your form, lingering where your breasts are near-level with his face - his tongue peeking out over his lower lip. Wide hands coming to trace the curve of your hips, fingertips that stroke the bare skin of your thighs.

“Didn’t know you were so filthy,” Klaue rasps, toying with the hem of your dress. The pretty fabric trapped between fingers that could tear it - you - to shreds.

Your teeth sinking into your lip as you bite back your smile. Trying to make it not seem too obvious when you shift into his touch - wanting more, as you tease back.

“I thought you knew everything.”

His laugh is rough and low - you don’t even notice the slow rucking up of your skirt, how the fabric bunches in his grip.

“I suppose not.” Klaue allows, “I also don’t know how you sound when you come.”

The wrist at your hips twists, knuckles brushing against your mound. That grin again, as a thumb strokes the silky fabric of your panties - his voice pitching low.

“But I think I’m going to find out.”

You’re nodding - eager to have his hands on you again. In this darkened room it feel easier to lean into it, into him. Into how much you really want this.

“Please.” You breathe as his head tips - his teeth scraping against your jaw. Moving towards your ear, goosebumps prickling across your skin.

His hand catches yours, dragging it down. To where his fingers tease and trace the elastic waistband.

“Hold this for me.” Klaue husks, and you’re taking what he offers without question.

The balled-up fabric of your dress. How it bunches up around your waist now, wrinkling in your tight grip. Putting yourself on display.

It feels filthy - holding it up, as he leans back in the booth to look. Fingers dragging down until they’re pressing against sticky, damp fabric.

Humming with you as you whine at his touch, feather-light as he traces you. Finding that spot like before, one that has your other hand reaching forward - curling around the back of his neck for balance. Fingers sliding over the velvet-short undercut, the strong curve where shoulder meets neck.

Pressing circles against your clit - the sensation damped by the thin layer, but the fact that it’s him, that he’s already there and touching you in a way that feels so intimately familiar - it’s an accelerant.

Your teeth clenched as you whine, the sound pitiful. Unable to escape the way he watches each and every expression. You try to match him, keep yours on those bright blue eyes, but you find your head tilting back - your eyes fluttering shut as your free hand fists in the fabric of his shirt.

A twisting and winding in your belly. Little unconscious jerks of your hips, matching the pace of his fingers. Until they’re curling - hooking around the gusset. Tugging it to the side, fingers now sliding over slick skin.

You groan, and he grins. A tug at shirt pulls him closer, until his lips are brushing against yours again. Not quite a kiss - hovering, like his fingers are.

Nudging the tip of one against your entrance. A tease, as a thumb swipes over your clit.

“So wet, princess.”

You can feel his lips move against yours. As he sinks into the knuckle, as you feel yourself clench around him. His teeth bared at the sound of your choked moan - withdrawing, only to push deeper with his next thrust.

Giving you something to tighten around, as the heel of his hand presses against your clit. Your arousal slicking up his palm as he starts a slow pace, a second teasing at your entrance before there’s the sweet stretch as he works it inside. Curling and dragging the pads of his fingertips against a spot that sends up sparks.

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears, as you tug again. Feeling the smile before his mouth presses against yours - letting yourself arch into him now. Chasing the slick plunge of his fingers, feeling the metallic chill of those thick rings when he presses deep.

He deepens the kiss when you gasp, when he feels the way you’ve started to go tense in his arms. A messy sweep of his tongue, drawing back to watch the pretty pinch of your brows.

“You’ve thought about this.” Klaue husks, his head tilting. Honeyed words mixing with the sticky, curling pump of his fingers - his expression knowing, “Thought about my tongue earlier, weren’t you? I could see it on your face.”

You think back to then - when he was in your office. That moment when you thought about him on his knees, that mouth of his between your thighs.

It’s almost too much. A tremor in your legs, as they try to close around him, but his hand is too broad, too strong.

He laughs then - each word enunciated, even to your hazy mind, “Tell me you want my mouth more than my fingers.”

You’re close. Each press of his heel perfectly timed, dreaming about how sweet that silver tongue would feel instead.

“I want-” You can barely gasp, “Fuck, I want your mouth.”

His lips press against your cheek, another to your jaw. The scruff of his beard as he groans in your ear.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re going to last that long,” He mock-sighs, the words almost wistful. “You feel like you’re about to come all over my fingers.”

The tiny part of your brain that is still functioning mourns the loss of his mouth. The barest flicker of thought before your vision starts to go blurry, the neon lights turning into streaks.

But Klaue appears merciful, after all - a hand coming up to press against your stomach, pushing your back down to the tabletop as he leans forward.

The wet, warm drag of his tongue replacing the press of his heel. A low groan right into your pussy as the angle of his fingers change, all the better to drag the tips against the spot that makes your toes.

All you can manage is a weak warble of his name, almost a warning. The sounds stuck in your throat as the room grows even more dim, each breath cut short and sharp.

“Come for me.” He growls, his lips shining with you. His voice no-nonsense, one you’ve heard him use on the phone.

It tips you over. The thudding of the music slowing and becoming dull, as you clench around him. Your release slick on the fingers that continue to pound into you, as you cry out. Both hand gripping onto him, as his lips close around your clit.

Feeling the pulse of your orgasm against the press of his tongue, until you’re left limp and boneless on that glass table.

His mouth presses against you in a lewd kiss as his fingers slip free. A wet drag of his tongue from your hole to your clit, his eyes bright and piercing as you slowly push yourself up onto an elbow.

Still breathing hard, your dress still clutched so tightly in your fist. Still hauling the fabric up to your belly, near-bare beneath. Too far gone to think about doing anything other than hanging on.

Klaue breaks the silence first, as he leans back against the bench. Looking a little less put-together as a hand rakes through his curls, buttons popped on his shirt from the way you had yanked on the fabric.

“I told you I’d give you anything.” His eyes are dark from this angle, glinting in the low light, “What do you want?”

It’s a surprisingly unselfish question. Putting the reigns in your hands. You swallow for a second, as you let your eyes wander. Still trying to find your tongue.

“Don’t get shy on me now.” He grins, “We are far past that, darling.”

You can see where his thighs spread wide, under the table. The long and hard curve of his cock, straining against the dark blue fabric of his trousers. Stiff from your mouth and your cunt and the way you gushed on his tongue.

The dress drops, so you can reach beneath. A lift of your hips as you peel your panties from your legs, holding them out between you like an offering.

His fingers brush yours as he takes them.

“Good girl.” Klaue husks, tucking them into his pocket. Offering a hand that you take, as he tugs you towards the edge of the table, and then into his lap.

You start to straddle him, but his hands find your hips instead. A careful shuffle as he flips you around, a gentle nudge forward that has you hovering, elbows resting on the table.

Giving him enough room to work open his belt. To close slick fingers around his heavy cock, groaning at the contact.

His other hand pushing your dress up again. Baring you fully, the fabric bunching up at your waist.

Pumping himself as he sees where you glisten, angling himself to press the blunt head against your slit.

You whine as he slides himself against you. Just pressing against your greedy hole before drawing back, slicking a fist over the tip.

“You drive me fucking crazy. You know that, darling?” He growls, as if you were the one teasing him. As you’re the one stopping him from taking you, from burying himself in the tight channel of your cunt.

“Ulysses, please-” You whine, and he laughs at that - his hand going still.

“Oh, it’s Ulysses, now?” There’s a grin in his voice that you can hear, amused “Not just Klaue?”

Teeth sink into your lip, as you try to rock back against him. As his thighs press against your knees, holding you firmly in place.

“Say it again, princess, and I’ll fuck you.” He rasps, his fingers sinking into the curve of your ass, “Just like you want me to. Come on.”

You do. For him, you do - the first syllable barely past your lips before he’s lining himself up, and then pulling you down to meet him.

The rest of his name strings out - breaking at the end on a high moan as you impale yourself on his cock, your back arching as he fills you.

It feels like he’s in your throat, a hand flattening unconsciously against your belly as if you could feel him there, inside you.

His answering groan is filthy in your ear, a guttural grunt as you rock yourself on his lap. Broad hands gripping your hips as he coaxes you back and forth, your own gripping onto the edge of the table for leverage.

The sound of skin slapping fills the air, his breath warm against your neck. A thought flickering - a realization that you could have had this for weeks now. This morning even - the briefest vision of yourself, bent over your own desk.

A hard thrust has you moaning his name, as your feet slide against the floor - trying to find purchase. Trying to keep up the pace, as you ride him.

A plea in the way your lips forms around the letters, as a thick arm hooks around your waist. Tugging you back, pushing him flush and deep as your back presses against his barrel chest.

His hand sliding up, between the valley of your breasts. A broad palm wrapping carefully around your throat like a necklace, the pressure holding you against him. As his beard scrapes against your jaw, his voice low and silky in your ear.

“You still begging for more, even though my fingers still taste like you?” He husks, as his right hand raises.

Fingers pressing against your lower lip, until they’re parting for him. Scraping past teeth, until you’re closing around him. Sucking.

Tasting yourself, like he said.

A pleased tone to his words, as he sighs, “Greedy girl. What am I going to do with you?”

Sliding his fingers from you then - spit stringing between glossy fingers. Dropping down to tap against your clit, the tips slipping against slick skin.

Then circling slowly, as his feet plant on the floor. Using the leverage to thrust up into you - the angle dragging his cock against your walls.

A moan bursting from your chest, your hips trying to flex into his touch. But he holds you firm. Makes you take what he gives you.

The pressure of his fingers increasing, a tingling in your guts that drops low and spreads. Your nails sinking into his arm - across those tattoos, feeling the muscles tense under your grasp - but he leans into it, as your breathing turns sharp.

“Klaue.” You bite out, between panting breaths, “Ulysses, please let me-”

Half-expecting him to slow. Or stop, his laugh ringing out - just to fuck with you.

Instead, his nose drags against the column of your neck. The thumb resting on your skin twitching, where he can feel your heart hammering beneath. A groan, as his lips ghost against the hollow under your ear.

A shiver running through you, at the tender contact. His voice coming after, pitched low.

Almost a growl.

“Oh, I’ll let you come again.” He tells you, “And this time, you are going to thank me.”

The words hang. Intent to recieve what you had so denied him before. The flood of relief blocked by an urge to protest, just because it’s him, and that’s what you do.

“Understood?” Klaue presses.

You don’t know if you have a choice. Everything drawing up tight as you squirm in his embrace. The press of his fingers unrelenting. Each one winding, winding, winding.

“Oh, fuck-”

Not even aware of the words as they slide from your lips. Concentrating too much on way he’s about to make you come, with steady pound of his cock, the wet swipe of his fingers.

Your body stringing tight, the words rushed, “Thank you, thank you-”

Toes curling, as it crashes into you. Your head tipping back as you moan, pressing into his shoulder.

“Such a good girl. See how easy that was?” He coos, as his hips still. Feeling how you pulse around him, his fingers still drawing the sensations out, “That’s it, cream on my fucking cock, princess.”

It’s all muted, as your head spins. As your vision goes hazy, your limbs limp and heavy.

You haven’t come that hard in a long time. Had forgotten how good it feels to have a cock nudged deep inside you, even as he tips you towards overestimation.

Each sound you make is a little gasp. Moving with him as he nudges you forward, your elbows pressing against the tabletop.

As he manages to stand behind you - a hand planting on the glass next to your hip. The other pressing down against the small of your back to hold you in place.

“Christ, you’re pretty when you come.” He groans, with a thrust of his hips, “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this.”

Starting as a slow and lazy as you feel, working his way up as his hips snap against yours, his heavy sack kissing against your clit again and again.

Somewhere in your mind you think about answering him - an admission that you’ve thought about it, too. That there’s been nights where you stretched yourself out on your own fingers, wishing they were his.

But he fills the silence for you. With low gasps and grunts that punctuate the intoxication drag of his cock.

“How you’re always running that pretty mouth of yours. Bossing me around in your office like the little spoiled princess that you are.”

You moan, rocking back to meet the grind of his hips, your cheek pressing against the cool glass. Too far gone in the haze of bliss and the continual pounding of his cock to form words, your answers coming in contented moan.

“But listen to how sweet you are now.” His voice goes honey-smooth, as he coos, “Just needed my thick cock, is that it?”

A whine rips through your throat, a broken fracture of his name woven in. He hums in amusement, unable to stop the filth that slips from his mouth. Goaded by the way you seem to grow slicker with his voice, the way you’re starting to clench down hard around him.

“Christ, if we were there now. I’d make you scream, darling.” The words are growled out, possessive. His body curving over yours, hands molding against your flesh as his lips press against your cheek. Those wild curls tickling your ear, each breath a ragged groan.

“Let those guard dogs of yours hear how you sound getting fucked like a man like me.”

The new angle of his cock has you seeing stars. His cock slick as he ruts into you, stroking along your inner walls. Bringing you closer as the head bumps against that spongey inner spot - you think you’re about to come again and he’s not even touching you, like before.

“Please-” You whimper, your fingertips making marks against the glass. A tight winding in your belly, your eyes closing.

Still able to see the glitter of those neon light as they slowly spin, reflecting off your skin.

But all you can feel is him.

It eclipses everything else, the spark that starts a flame - catching you off guard as it rips through you. A muffled half-laugh that you dimly register comes from him, as your promised shout is drowned out by the club beats.

A tight pulsing, as your thighs press together. Klaue’s praise gritted out in your ear as his thrusts turn sloppy - pleased and possessive and winding throughout the flicker of thought that still remains in your head.

“Fuck. Look at you, coming again.”

“That’s my good girl-”

And all too soon he’s pulling from you - leaving you empty. A split second as he yanks the panties from his pocket, wrapping it around his cock as he spills messily into the gusset.

His chest pressed against your back, as he stains the fabric, each pulse of his cock leaving him leaking into the gift you gave him. Grinding himself against the spot that’s still wet from your cunt.

That arm wraps around you again, as he sits back. Tugging you onto his lap, as your head tips against his shoulder, his hand splaying across your belly. A deep breath of contentment that matched you own, and you’re both brought back down.

An eyebrow quirking when you give him a look - your underwear still curled in his free hand. A smile, then - glinting, again.

“Didn’t think you wanted me dripping out of you.” It’s almost gentlemanly, as he shifts beneath you. His cock still pressing against the bare curve of your ass, his trousers pooled around his thighs - before he amends, “Not here, anyways.”

You don’t tell him, but you wouldn’t have minded. A little shiver at the thought of how it would have felt, to feel him - pressing tight against you, the pulse of his cock as he emptied himself into you.

“Not here?” You turn, where he’s watching - fingers tracing a pattern against your dress, “Is that an invitation?”

He growls, “God, yes.”

You can feel him twitch against your ass, still flushed and heavy.

“This was just a taste, love. I think our night is just beginning.” He coos, “Besides… you still need to have your dinner.

Klaue’s grin turns dark, as his fingers slowly start to drift down, settling between your thighs.

“And I haven’t had my dessert.”

I have been chipping away at this since December - if you made it this far, thank you so much! 🥺💖 hope you liked this!

[stargirlfics]

just wanna add, ulysses has an insane daddy kink and if you call him that in public...in front of his lackeys...oof you would be walking funny for a while

Klaue having a daddy kink actually makes me feral yes!!! It just feels right ugh I wanna drive that man crazy, please!!!

I can see him visibly struggling when you bat your lashes and call him your daddy, it genuinely makes his brain short circuit, imagine the LOOK he would give you, he would be so close to snapping and hauling you over his shoulder right there 🥵

“Yeah sweetheart, daddy’s here.”

I simply have to scream

The effect it has on him is so fun for you to play with, especially if it’s in front of his guys, the little authority/ego boost, how he knows it’s a challenge too cause you’re calling him that in public (not that he minds one bit, he likes when you call attention to the fact that he’s yours and you’re his) yeah you’re at risk of letting everyone know what’s up with the resulting pounding he would give you and I want it so bad!!!

Adding a little visual cause I think he’s giving off so much daddy energy it makes me weak and also my friend made this gif and I’m obsessed with it, y’all should check out her Klaue fic btw! <3

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

[ Part One ] - [ Part Two ] - [ Part Three ] - [ Part Four ] [ Part Five ] - [ Part Six ] - [ Part Seven ] - [ Part Eight ]

[aintinacage]

Tony Stark used to say that.

William Shakespeare’s Avengers (Part 45/?)

[sisyphean-thirst]

Masterlist

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

Ulysses Klaue

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

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

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

David Robey

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

Sergei Kravinoff

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