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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

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

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

Word count: 3k

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, mild victorian dirty talk)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stevie? Who is it?”

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

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

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

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

“Guten Abend, my love”

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

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

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

“Welcome home, my love”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No”

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

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

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

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

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

“Which letter was your favourite?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soaked wet without me even touching you”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, my husband”

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

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

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

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

“I am such a lucky man to have you”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is his name?”

“Oh, he is not famous, Gustav Klimt”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life was bright over Kreizler’s household.

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

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

#dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #dr kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler x you #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #laszlo kriezler x reader #laszlo kreizler x y/n #laszlo kreizler fanfiction #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler headcanons #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler imagine #the alienist x reader #the alienist fanfic

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munsons-maiden · 3 years

Text

𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬

Not gonna lie, I had the time of my life writing this 😂

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! - Love, Kiki 🖤

A/N: I was doing an assignment for uni when I came across an absolute gem, a theological text from the 1890s telling women to PLAY DEAD when their husbands had/wanted sex with them. And then I thought about Laszlo reading the text and the face he'd make at this utter nonsense and I NEEDED to write this. I'm still wheezing. Ladies of the 1890s, I'm very sorry and I dedicate this one to you 😂

Also, I love the quiet humor of Laszlo in the series and I needed to explore this weirdly funny side of him because I absolutely adore it 🥺

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Laszlo Kreizler x female reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Your and Laszlo's wedding night is getting closer, and Laszlo attempts to be the best of husbands - in every way. But the advice on how to pleasure a woman is lacking in 1890s New York City, so he takes matters into his own hands.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | humor, smut, romance

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.8 k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ ONLY!). Vaginal fingering, oral (f! receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is fiction - please stay safe in real life and use a condom!). No angst in this one, just fluff and humor 🥰.

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝🖤

Laszlo’s POV

The carriage slowly rattled across the cobbled streets, and all over the city, the lanterns had already been lit for the night. Laszlo and John were on their way back from the opera house, and while John had brought out a newspaper to read on their way back, Laszlo had spent the last fifteen minutes debating on how to best broach the subject on his mind, before he finally cleared his throat and began, „John?“

John looked up from the newspaper. “Yes?”

Laszlo shuffled nervously in his seat opposite of him, before he continued, “I fear I might need to request your assistance regarding a rather delicate topic. Your experience and skills would be most helpful in the matter.”

John frowned in confusion. “My skills in painting?”

“No, your skills regarding sexual interaction, of course.”

John blinked a few times, trying to decipher if Laszlo was being serious – he looked perfectly sincere, with that glimmer of curiosity shining in his intelligent hazel eyes which usually sparked when Laszlo was preparing himself to analyse something. John really didn’t want to be the object of such an analysis. “Laszlo, the direction this conversation is taking off to is as anxiety-inducing as it is inappropriate.”

“Yes. Inappropriate was the direction I intended for it to take”, Laszlo smiled, “And since your most impressive skills might be located in the field of sexual intercourse –“

“I – I don’t even – are you insulting me? Criticizing me? Judging me benevolently? All three?”

Laszlo tilted his head. “Neither of these three. I simply need you to tell me the location of a good brothel.”

John could only gape at him, and Laszlo grew visibly annoyed about how dense John could sometimes be.

“You’re engaged, Laszlo. You’re going to marry.”

“That is exactly my point, my friend.”

John ran his hand through his dark hair and finally put aside the newspaper. “I might need a moment.”

“You don’t know your favourite brothel? I didn’t think it would be something you’d have to contemplate, since you spend so many evenings in these establishments.”

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY!”, John burst, finally having had enough of his friend’s antics, and his face had taken on the colour of beetroots in his anger.

“Why are you shouting at me? I asked a perfectly fine question. We’re friends, you should be able to tell me about your favourite brothel. You don’t exactly keep your nightly activities a secret, I’ve come to associate the stale smell of whiskey exclusively with you, for that matter.” Laszlo’s anger was rising as well.

John took a deep breath. “Why? What do you want to do in a brothel, Laszlo? You’ll be a married man soon. Your wife-to-be is lovely. You love her – “

“Which is exactly my point”, Laszlo interrupted with the newfound calmness of a person confronted with utter obtuseness, ”I need advice for the wedding night, preferably by a woman who knows what she’s doing. I want to –“

“Wait. You don’t want to visit the brothel for…?” John faltered.

“Intercourse? John, I’m going to be married to the woman I love, why would I visit a brothel to engage in such activities?”

Laszlo looked truly horrified, and John let out a deep sigh. “I’m – I’ll bring you next time. Why, exactly, don’t you ask me? I’m skilled, as you said.”

Laszlo only smirked. “Dear John. If you want to know how hallucinations feel – do you ask the patient, or the alienist?”

John blinked, caught off guard.

“Exactly”, Laszlo smiled, putting on his reading glasses and reaching for the discarded newspaper.

***

The problem, as it had turned out when Laszlo had tried to prepare for the upcoming wedding night, wasn’t a lack of literature about the topic. There were, in fact, a lot of books about sex, the most famous one of them, Psychopathia Sexualis, even the work of a renowned alienist. Anatomy, Biology, Psychology. Even religious texts were looking into the matter. Upon reading these texts, though, he didn’t know if he should laugh about these teachings or weep for the generations of women they were being preached to. The woman should avoid sexual intercourse at all costs, the text written by church officials only months ago read, and she should play dead if her husband attempts at such actions, advising her to go to bed fully clothed and feign severe headaches to keep the respective husband away. The dominant perspectives in every book and every article Laszlo found, were distinctively not female. It didn’t surprise him the least.

Well, Laszlo thought, he hadn’t assumed to find the answer in a theological text, anyway. But neither literature about the human psyche nor the human body could provide any information exceeding the basic mechanics of the process. What he needed – desperately so, considering his own glaring inexperience in the field – were answers on how to do it right.

There had been patients with diverse sexual problems, and all of his female patients, when asked about the nature of their sexual problems, told him how embarrassed they felt about their own desires, how they only ever felt something when stimulating themselves but never while sleeping with their spouses, how their husbands thought them promiscuous for trying to engage in sexual activities with them, or prude if they didn’t. The only sexual problems these women really had, it seemed, were the men they were married to. And Laszlo didn’t intend to become such a problem. He wanted to make you happy in every single way. Thus, his search for answers about how to pleasure his beloved had led him to John, and finally to the brothel he was currently visiting by his friend’s side. Probably not one of his best ideas in hindsight, but it was too late now to flee. He’d already ordered a glass of wine.

“You’re really special, my friend,” John smirked when Laszlo jumped as a woman lasciviously started to massage his shoulders, his face a picture of utter horror.

“You look like a man standing in a lazarette, not a man visiting a brothel”, John commented, and Laszlo blinked while the woman retreated with a laugh.

“To be fair, you look a tense enough, Laszlo. If you don’t loosen up a little, dear friend, I’m coming over to give you that shoulder massage myself”, John added. “What exactly did you expect to find here?”

Laszlo opened his mouth to reply with a quip of his own, but he was cut off by another prostitute, placing her hand on his shoulder. He shrunk away from her touch, a glimmer of panic in his eyes, and the woman snickered.

“Shy, are we? Would you like to accompany me somewhere more…private?” Her suggestive wink, paired with the obvious unease on Laszlo’s face, made John laugh again like a boy in a schoolyard.

“Somewhere private would actually be of help. Thank you”, Laszlo replied with as much dignity as the situation would allow for and a subtle glare in John’s direction, who only shrugged. Your idea, his gaze seemed to convey. John was debating whether it would be mean to tell Sara about this evening, and had come to the conclusion that it would be, indeed, too mean, when Laszlo remembered something and turned back towards John to say, “Oh and, John, I advise you to keep an eye on your drink this time. I’m really not in the mood to pick you up off some street again, delirious and missing your pants and your manners.”

Oh, yes, John would most definitely tell Sara as soon as he saw her the next morning.

When the door to the room with the bed closed behind him, Laszlo raised his good hand and declared, “I’ve come here to request advice, nothing more.”

The woman raised her eyebrows. “Mister –“

“Dr. Kreizler.”

“Dr. Kreizler, I’ve been in this business for many years now – I won’t tell you how many, though”, she winked, “And that must be the strangest request I ever got. And it can get very strange in my line of work.”

Laszlo nodded. “I’ll marry soon, and I wonder how I can be…a good husband in the matters of the marital bed. I figured the best way to find out would be to ask a woman of your profession.”

The prostitute stared at him, her crimson-painted mouth slightly agape, before a grin spread across her features. “My, my. I can assure you, Dr. Kreizler – you’re the first and probably only man in this city visiting a brothel for advice on how to pleasure your spouse. That girl is a lucky one. Most men don’t even think of the possibility that they could learn a thing or two. Most of them are brutes. So believe me when I tell you that it’ll be fine.”

“But – what do I do? To make it…pleasurable for her. Not only pleasurable but good.”

“You’ve read books on anatomy, I presume?”

Laszlo nodded.

“Then you know the right spots.”

“I fear I’ll not be capable enough.”

“Can’t get it up?”, the woman nodded, and Laszlo was quick to shake his head.

“Nothing like that”, he stammered, “But my arm –“

She laughed – not a condescending laugh, but a genuine one. “Dear doctor. You have hands and your mouth. Put them to use.”

“My – mouth? To kiss her?”

The woman flashed him a seductive grin. “To use on her lady parts.”

Laszlo made a mental note, probably to ask John about this later. He’d heard many stories from his patients – everything from whips to pain to knives and the like – but this was news to him.

“The rest is just a chain of – what do the academics call it? Action and reaction. She’ll tell you in every way possible if you’re doing it right. And if not, just ask her what she wants you to do. It can be as easy as that. You just have to listen.”

Some of the weight seemed to lift off Laszlo’s shoulders. Listening, fortunately, was something he was quite good at.

***

Your POV

The day had passed in a blur of happy tears, white lace and flowers, of congratulations and laughing and dancing and shared glances full of love and happiness as Laszlo – your husband, it sounded so beautiful and unreal – twirled you around for your first dance as a married couple, even if he usually wasn’t fond of dancing. You felt like the happiest person on earth.

Now, the two of you had climbed out of the carriage and up the stairs to the front door of his home. Your home, now, too.

Laszlo bit his lip, and noticing his moment of hesitation, you took his weaker hand in yours, gazing at him in the dim light of the flickering lanterns lining the street like silent guards. He looked a little distraught, so you softly asked, “What is it, my love?”

“I can’t carry you over the threshold.” His defeated tone made your heart break a little.

Standing on tiptoes, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek before you replied quietly, “I don’t care if you can carry me through a door, Laszlo. I care if you can help me carry my happiness and sorrows and fears. And that, you can – else, I wouldn’t be here in this beautiful dress, which, by the way is breath-taking in the physical sense as well. I need to get out of this corset before I faint on the doorstep. Which would pose a problem, because then somebody would have to carry me over the doorstep.”

With that, you opened the door and pulled him inside with you, up the stairs and into the bedroom the two of you would share from this night on. Vines of anxiety crept through your chest and tightened around your heart as your eyes locked on the bed, and you suddenly felt strangled with fear. Of course, you’d married the man you loved more than your own life, of course you wanted to finally be as close to him as humanly possible – but nobody ever told you what it would be like. What to do. How to act appropriate, if there even was such a thing as propriety in the matters of the marital bed. As much as you wanted this, had imagined this night – your wedding night – to be, in the secrecy of night and alone in your bed…now that the moment had arrived, all you felt was scared.

This time, it was Laszlo who took your hand in his; carefully, as if he were worried to startle you.

“We can just go to sleep, darling”, he said softly, “There’s plenty of time to –“

“No!”, you interrupted him. “No. I want this. With you. Now. I’m just…scared. I don’t even know what exactly scares me, it’s simply that I don’t know what to do.”

“I believe I do know”, Laszlo replied with a soft smile, stepping closer until his face was only inches from yours, “And the rest, we’ll find out together, my love. So if you allow me to take care of you…?” He faltered. His usual eloquence seemed to have left him, and he couldn’t keep his own nervosity hidden from you any longer.

“I’ve…tried to consult some articles”, you finally admitted, and you could feel heat of embarrassment creep up your cheeks. Quickly, you averted your gaze, but Laszlo’s strong hand shot up to gently tilt your chin and make you look at him. He could imagine the things you’d read.

“Please don’t pretend to be dead”, he said in an attempt to calm your nerves, and you huffed at the absurdity of the thought, of the – wait, how did he know about the article?

“I did some research of my own, as well”, Laszlo explained, and you started to grin.

“Of course you did.”

“I might have offended a few people in the process”, he admitted.

“Of course you have.” God, you loved him so much.

“And I stumbled across this article as well”, he continued, barely suppressing his smile now, “And it made me angry. Because…I want you to enjoy yourself. I’m sorry that church and society have made you feel like it’s something to be ashamed of, but it’s not.” Laszlo brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, gently tucking it behind your ear while he continued, “So if you allow me to take care of you in every single way possible, I will.” His voice was a little hoarse with all the emotions he felt, and he swallowed.

You closed the remaining distance between the two of you and placed a chaste kiss on Laszlo’s lips. You’d kissed him before – once, in a quiet moment with no prying eyes present to judge the two of you for the impropriety of it, even if it never, not for a single second, had felt improper to kiss him – but now, it was different. The two of you were free to do whatever you liked. Whenever. Wherever. As if he had the exact same thought, Laszlo cupped your cheek with his good hand and pulled you closer to him, to deepen the kiss, and the sweet innocence of his lips on yours, the little sigh of content that escaped him, lifted the weight from your own heart, like a beam of sunshine burning away the vines of anxiety which had caught you in their strangling hold. Laszlo’s hand travelled up to your hair, and one by one, the tightness of the hairpins loosened as he gently pulled them out of your hair, freeing strand after strand until they cascaded loosely around your shoulders, never breaking the kiss as he did.

When he finally pulled away, leaving you a little dizzy with the sensation of his gentle fingers combing through your hair, of his lips moving against yours, you could see the silent question shining in his hazel eyes, the lights of the candles in the room, and when you nodded, he turned you around, so he was facing your back.

His fingertips brushed against the bare skin on your neck when he swept your hair off to the side, and the contact made your skin tingle and left you yearning for more. The silence which had settled over the room was a pleasant one, the kind of silence wrapped around two souls who knew each other so well that words weren’t necessary to communicate anymore, broken only by the rustling sound of the strings lacing your corset while Laszlo undid them one by one – deliberately slow not because of his weak arm but to give you time to step away from him and change your mind. You didn’t even think about it, though. His kiss had made you hungry for more, and you longed for the sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin again.

A shiver ran down your spine like a row of sparks when suddenly, his lips brushed against the back of your neck, and there was a strange kind of weakness travelling through your legs you’d never experienced before. More, your mind shouted in time with your accelerating heartbeat, and a soft sigh escaped your lips.

It was all the reassurance Laszlo needed, but nevertheless he whispered, “If you want me to stop whatever I’m doing –“ another sensual kiss, placed to the side of your neck, and a small moan escaped you as his warm breath ghosted across your sensitive skin, his beard gently scraping against you, “ – then say the word, and I’ll stop.” A third kiss to the side of your neck, closer to your jaw this time, and the strange tug in your lower belly seemed to intensify.

“And if I want you to continue?”, you breathed, and Laszlo chuckled – a dark sound you’d never heard him make before, and it seemed to light another shower of sparks which travelled right to your core, the throbbing feeling of need nestled there.

“Then you tell me that, as well”, he whispered in reply, lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath tickling your skin and you slightly tilted your head to the side to give Laszlo better access to your neck. He complied to your silent plea, and his lips found the spot of tender skin right above your quickening pulse, lingering even longer than before, and you shuddered with how good it felt when he started nibbling at that spot. You let your head fall back against his chest, savouring the sensation, and you could feel his smile against your skin.

Action and reaction. She’ll tell you in every way possible if you’re doing it right. This spot hadn’t been in any of the anatomy books, and Laszlo made a mental note to get into the matter more closely soon.

When the last of the tiny bows holding together the corset was loosened beneath Laszlo’s fingertips, the lacy white wedding gown fell to the floor with a swishing sound of the fabric, pooling around your ankles and leaving you bare but for the thin underskirt. Laszlo pulled away from your neck and you turned to face him again.

You could feel your heart stumbling in your chest when his hazel eyes roamed over your body – and insecurity crept in like a cold gust of wind in the middle of winter. But the love reflected in Laszlo’s stunning eyes as he took you in with nothing but awe dissipated the cold gust of fear like a warm ray of sunshine. “You’re so beautiful, my love”, he marvelled.

“So are you, Laszlo.” He was still fully dressed, though, which was a state in dire need of changing. This time, it was you who closed the distance, your lips locking on his. And this time, where the first kiss of the night had been chaste and sweet like the softly glowing flame of a candle against the dark of night, this kiss was feverish and hungry and desperate, having grown into the blazing flames of an inferno lighting you up from inside to only leave you craving for more. Laszlo’s strong hand was tangled in your hair while he grabbed the back of your head to pull you closer, and his weaker hand rested on the curve of your waist, his thumb drawing small patterns on the exposed skin right above the waistband of your underskirt. Your own movements grew more and more daring, and you fumbled on the rows of buttons on his chest, first undoing his vest and then his dress shirt to push them aside, away from his shoulders and to the ground where they landed with a dull thud, allowing yourself to let your hands roam across his bare chest.

What the two of you lacked in experience, you made up with passion, and with teeth clashing and his tongue delving into your mouth – oh, how good he tasted – Laszlo walked you backwards towards the bed, never breaking the kiss, until the back of your knees thumped against the wooden frame, and you let yourself fall back onto the mattress. His left hand reached out to undo the row of tiny buttons on the waistband of your underskirt, and you were quick to help him. The skirt joined the heap of fabric already discarded on the floor.

You wanted him all over you, his lips, his fingers, all of him, but still there were the remnants of the old shyness, and you didn’t dare ask him for it – you didn’t know what to ask him to do.

He knew, though. His lust-darkened gaze locked on yours with an intensity that stole every last whisp of breath from your lungs when Laszlo knelt down on the floorboards in front of you, and the expression in his eyes, the adoration and desire flickering in them like a twin flame, made you feel like the most beautiful person on earth. His strong hand looped around your knee and he pulled you towards him, until he was situated right between your legs, the possessiveness of the motion intensified the throbbing feeling between your legs.

His fingertips grazed the skin at the back of your knees before they wandered up, leaving a trail of goosebumps and sparks of this strange sensation in their wake when they travelled towards the apex of your thighs, where your skin was most sensitive.

“What are you –“ Your own gasp cut you off when his thumb gently brushed over that spot between your legs, and you felt like all the sparks he’d lighted in your body were accumulating in your lower belly, a glowing white light so warm you felt it could burn you from the inside, and you wanted more of it.

When Laszlo leaned towards you, his eyes never breaking away from yours, pinning you in place, there was no time for you to wonder about what he was planning to do. His breath ghosted over the wetness pooling between your thighs and made you shiver with the sensation, and when he brushed a kiss to that spot, the need in your belly intensified so much that you couldn’t stop the small whimper bubbling up your throat. Embarrassed, your hands, which had gripped the bedsheets on your sides, flew up to cover your mouth, but Laszlo rasped, “Don’t. I want to hear you, darling, every single lovely sound you make. I want to hear what I’m doing to you. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

So when he kissed you there a second time, you allowed yourself to cry out his name, and bucked your hips up against his lips. He obviously had been thorough with his research, you thought, before his tongue flicked against that bundle of nerves and your mind went blank, honing on only the feeling of Laszlo’s hot tongue swivelling over the wetness between your legs, circling that sweetest spot, the pleasure jolting through you in drowning waves that made you moan every time he brushed against it, while his strong hand grabbed your hip to pin you down onto the mattress.

“So soaked already for me”, he murmured, and the dark vibration of his voice against you sent another jolt of pleasure through your core. You wanted more, more, more… Was this the feeling bringing people to drink laudanum, to lure them into the opium dens in the belly of the city? Your mind was hazy with lust, the things he made you feel, so new and exciting and so different from everything you had expected. You rolled your hips up against him in slow, languid movements matching those of his tongue, and right when you thought there was no way for the feeling to intensify any more, as if you might burst into sparks yourself like a firecracker on New Year’s Eve, he gently sucked on that spot, and the last remnants of your control were gone, carried away by the flood of want rushing over you, drowning you with the ache for more, for him. His beard tickled the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he greedily lapped up your arousal, intensifying the feeling. You cried out his name, and you could feel that there would be a point where the coil in your belly, tightened with every stroke of his tongue and every suck from his mouth, would snap –

“Wait”, you panted, barely able to form the words in this lust-addled haze of your mind.

Laszlo complied immediately, and before he could ask if he’d done something wrong, you explained, “I want to feel this with you, Laszlo. You can do this for a thousand more times after tonight if you want to – because believe me, I want to, I really do – but tonight, the first time... I want you to feel this with me, Laszlo.”

“Everything you wish for, my darling”, he rasped before he rose from his knees and joined you on the bed. His smile was like a beam of sunlight, so bright and happy that you felt as if your own heart would burst with joy and love and everything in between.

“Though I wouldn’t have minded to continue”, he told you with a smirk, and it was the truth. The knowledge that he was the one making you loose control like this, making you come undone with only his mouth, that you allowed him to do these things, was exhilarating. The knowledge that even in your throes of passion, you worried about his own pleasure, made his heart seize with affection.

Your fingers were swift to unbutton his suit pants, and they, too, quickly joined the rest of your clothes on the floorboards. The two of you probably wouldn’t need any clothes for the next few days, come to think of it. It was something which was fine by Laszlo.

He situated himself above you, his strong hand beside your head to hold his weight, and when he leaned down to shower you with more kisses, your legs wrapped around him and you pulled him down towards you eagerly. He was happy to see that you were enjoying yourself, that the remnants of shame had been washed away by the cleansing thunderstorm of passion he’d bestowed on you.

His lips left yours and he trailed wet, hot kisses along your jaw and back to that spot above your hammering pulse, feeling its fluttering against his mouth as you writhed beneath him with the sensation. He needed to test something. His teeth grazed the tender skin along with the slight scratch of his beard, and you angled your head in response. He sucked at the skin, and the sound tearing from your lips as a result was as sinful as it was heavenly. You could feel his hardened length pressing against your inner thigh, and experimentally rutted against it. Nothing could have prepared you from the sound that tore from his lips at your action, and it only spurred you on. Your hands wandered from their previous spot in his glossy dark hair, down over the slope of his shoulders and the plane of his chest, over his waist and further down until your hand wrapped around him, and when you started pumping him with slow, deliberate strokes, he let his head fall into the crook of your neck with the sweetest of moans, his soft hair tickling your cheeks.

But before you could continue, Laszlo sat up on his heels and his strong hand shot down to stop your movements.

“Wait. This is about you”, he whispered lovingly, gazing down at you. The hazel colour of his irises had shrunk, eclipsed by the blackness of his lust-blown pupils, and his hair was tousled and falling into his face, giving him an oddly vulnerable demeanour. For a few passing heartbeats, while you watched him in awe, admiring his beauty, every freckle and mole, he did the same with your flushed form beneath him. With his good hand, he drew a line from your collarbone down through the valley of your breasts and further down, and your arched your body into this caress, until he reached the spot between your legs that was aching for his touch, aching for him to fill you. He watched while your eyes fell close as soon as the pad of his index finger flicked across the swollen bundle of nerves. You rolled your hips in time with the soft strokes of his fingers as he spread your arousal across that spot, rendering you once more panting and writhing with lust beneath him. Your lips parted to release another lovely moan, and it took much of his patience not to take you right then – but it was too mesmerizing to watch you, your hips desperately rutting against his fingers to gain more friction.

“Tell me what you want me to do”, Laszlo breathed, and the dark rasp of his own arousal laced in his voice made you lose the last remnants of your self-control all over again.

“I need you”, you panted, gyrating your against him with growing desperation.

“Where do you need me, my love?”, he urged, surprised by his own sudden boldness, and even in your delirious state, you could feel the sudden confidence radiating from him. And Lord, did it do things to you. He’d always been a difficult person to describe, his personality like an ocean with changing tides – curiosity and shyness, ignorance and empathy, anger and sweetness, all co-existing, ebbing and flowing like a play of light and shadow to form the mosaic of who he was, the man you loved more than anything in this world. But now, with his fingers bestowing such pleasure on you as they wandered across your slick folds, making you squirm and beg, filled him with a beautiful mix of overflowing love and pride – that all his fears of inadequacy, his feelings of not being enough and resentment for himself because of his arm, were just that: fears. Nothing more.

“Please, Laszlo, you’re driving me insane”, you pleaded, “I need you inside of me.”

His lips captured yours in another hungry kiss before he succumbed to your wishes, and he rested his good arm beside your head, supporting his weight on your elbow while you reached out to align him with your entrance, and you could feel him twitch in your palm as your hand wrapped around him.

Laszlo rested his forehead against yours and pushed his hips forward, gently sinking into you, slowly and carefully, attentive for any sign of pain in your expression. You gazed up at him, and the feeling as he buried himself in your velvet walls, filling you, bodies connected as your souls had already been, the sensation of it – you were at a lack of words to describe it. Your back arched as he began to move, slowly pulling out of you only to sheathe himself inside your walls again, his tip grazing another spot deep inside you in just the right angle with every languorous thrust.

You surrendered to the feeling, the flames travelling through your nerves, setting you ablaze with pleasure, letting it take you over and sweep you away. Laszlo’s eyes closed with the intensity of the feeling, his long lashes fluttered against his cheekbones, illuminated in the soft glow of the candles, his kiss-swollen lips slightly parted. You rolled your hips up against his and your legs hooked around his waist to push him deeper into you, to hit that aching spot again, and the beautiful melody of your groans tangling together in the air filled the room. The way your senses heightened to his every touch, to his scent of soap and sweat, the way he tasted, while the world faded to a blur around you…it was intoxicating. You’d never felt so alive.

“God, you feel so good”, he whispered on a broken moan, and your hands roamed across his back to rake through his soft strands of chocolate-coloured hair.

“Laszlo, I think I’m close…”

“Don’t hold back, my love”, Laszlo encouraged, his voice laboured, “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You could feel the pressure in your core building with each thrust of his length, his pace quickening, his cock grazing the throbbing spot inside you over and over again. You chased this glowing sensation alongside him, and it felt like a wave building in this ravenous, insatiable spot below your ribcage, racing through your body and emptying your mind of everything but the blissful sensation of Laszlo sheathing himself inside you, his sweat-drenched skin on your own, the raw and beautiful sounds tumbling from both your lips as the first wave of this high hit you and your walls clenched around him.

“I love you”, he purred as he felt your climax rushing over you, “I love you so much, Y/N. My beautiful wife.”

You cried out his name, and your hands fell to your side to grip the bedsheets for purchase. The feeling of you unravelling beneath him was enough to sent him toppling over the precipice of his own pleasure.

Your muscles tensed when the second wave of your climax hit you, calmer and softer than the first but matching it in intensity just as much. You felt his warm seed spilling inside you as you came down from your height, Laszlo’s movements faltered as he lazily rode out your highs before he let himself collapse into the sheets beside you. You were tangled up, drenched in sweat, and panting fervently.

For a few racing heartbeats, you were both trying to catch your breath, savouring the afterglow of this feeling, of the things you’d just done together, and you nuzzled into his chest. Laszlo pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head, and you raised your chin to look at him.

“This was incredible”, you whispered. “I love you, Laszlo. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. To wake up beside you every morning, to fall asleep by your side every night. And I can’t wait to do this again. And again.”

Laszlo’s hazel eyes were brimming with love as he listened to you. “I’m glad, my love. I want to worship you. In every way possible.”

“But first”, you finished with a grin, “You need to tell me about this research of yours.”

Part 2? I mean, Laszlo worshipped the reader, so it would only be fair if she returned the favour. Let me know :D

Tagging: @justfangirlthingies @fictionlandslanddreams

#dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler x you #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x y/n #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler fanfic #dr kreizler x reader #dr kreizler #the alienist fanfic #the alienist #the alienist laszlo #the alienist x reader

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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Tease | Laszlo Kreizler x gn!reader (🍋-ish)

Anonymous asked: seal anon- back on my bullshit

"Here, I'll teach you"- laszlo maybe some doctor or daddy kink plz

summary: Laszlo comes to stay with you while he’s on a break from work, and while at first everything is fine, certain desires do tend to get in the way.

tws: Daddy kink, dom/sub, swearing, mentions of collars/leads, mentions of handcuffs, mentions of rope, mentions of praise kink if you SQUINT

word count: 1000

MINORS DNI

Laszlo thankfully wasn’t working, for once, he had a little time off for himself and he could actually relax; there were no murderers on the loose to torment him, there were no cases to be solved, and the majority of his patients were more than looked after by the staff. He had been begged to take a break, practically forced to, and although at first he was bored and he was struggling to find anything to keep his mind busy, he soon turned to you; his dashing and handsome partner. He found himself spending more and more time with you, more than making up for the time that had been lost between him helping others and the cases he was involved in, he practically moved in with you temporarily. Your bedsheets soon started to smell like him, and his presence around the house was more than welcomed; sitting with him in the evenings, your head in his lap as he read one of your books, cooking together in the afternoons, with him often telling you to add one thing or to avoid using another, long walks together in the morning through the woods, with you more often than not stopping in your tracks to observe a fox or a deer in the distance. It was more than a welcomed occurrence, more than a comforting time together.

But Laszlo wouldn’t stay so domestically sweet forever, and you were counting down the hours until he would treat you how he usually did; the more dominant side coming out of him one bit at a time. You were more than excited for what was going to eventually happen, hoping that he had brought over the handcuffs, the collar, the lead, and the rope; you did your best to behave, to be good in hopes that he would reward you one way or another, but you also knew that his punishments were also so fucking good, and you couldn’t help but to act up just a little bit.

It was fairly late, around twenty to ten at night, and you and Laszlo were doing your usual; he was sat in the chair in the corner with the lamp on, reading through his current book and waiting for you to hurry up with the laundry so that he could move onto the sofa and you would put your head in his lap as you kicked your feet up on the leather arm and settled down for the night. He was waiting, looking up every now and then when you walked past the room with an armful of washing, although he had a feeling that the little routine would be shattered into a million pieces; he kept reading, and when you settled down on the chair at the opposite side of the room, he put the book down, and tilted his head to the side as he looked at you.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” you said with a shrug, looking at him with those big puppy dog eyes that you knew he could never and would never refuse. “I was just thinking about how awfully I’ve been good recently.”

Laszlo furrowed his brows a little, looking at you with that hungry gaze that always came to his big brown eyes when he knew that you were about to start acting up, when he knew that you were about to start being a tease. “Don’t start that with me now, nyuszi.”

You scratched at the back of your neck, tilting your head and looking at him with as much innocence and ignorance as you could muster. “I’m not sure what you mean, Daddy.”

His jaw clenched, and he clicked his fingers. “Here. Now.”

You smiled, a little smug as you made your way over to him, and straddled his lap, your breath hitching when he placed his hand at the bottom of your throat. “What?”

“I told you not to start,” he said lowly, his voice hardly even a growl as he kept his dark brown eyes on you, keeping you pinned where you were as he shook his head. “If you’re good, you know I’ll reward you later.”

You pouted a little. “Yeah, about that… I don’t think I can wait until later.”

Laszlo scoffed, biting down on the inside of his bottom lip as he let out a harsh sigh. “So you’re going to start being a brat? Is that it?”

“Well, technically, no,” you started, “first of all, it’s my house, so… my rules.”

Laszlo couldn’t help but to laugh a little, swiping his hand down his face when he let go of your throat. He nodded. “Of course, where are my apologies? Would you like to be the dominant one when we… when we go to bed, too?” He laughed again. “Here, I’ll teach you if you want.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Daddy, you know that’s not what I mean. Don’t be a fucking dick.”

He shifted his hips, just enough so that you could feel him and you would let out a soft whimper of need. “Don’t be a brat.”

“I’m not the one acting like-”

He moved his hips again to shut you up, and although you tried not to for the sake of playing fair, you ground down against him, drawing a shuddering growl from the back of his throat. “You were saying?”

“Can we go upstairs?” You asked quietly, swallowing thickly. “Please, Daddy? I promise I’ll be good if we do…”

Laszlo considered it for a moment, thinking about the things he could ask you if you wanted, thinking of how he could possibly use it as an excuse to thank you for letting him stay with you, and although a thousand and one things crossed his mind, he narrowed it down to what he knew were your favourites; even if you were teasing him a little, if you were playing a little game, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to praise and reward you. “Alright, come on.”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - do not just leave a "like", REBLOG IT. you may also leave feedback in the form of asks, tags, etc which is greatly appreciated, but you SHOULD reblog it regardless.

#mlem writes #laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #The Alienist #the alienist imagine #daniel bruhl imagine #daniel bruhl x you #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl imagine #daniel brühl x reader #Daniel Brühl

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gaypirate420 · 2 years

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Jealous//John S Moore.

John Schuyler Moore x male!reader.

A/N: this is based off a dream I had last night, also this is my first (and probably last) time writing for John or the alienist in general so yeah.

You were staying on Dr. Kreizler's home, you lived on the other side of the country but the infamous trio of self named detectives called for your help on a case two weeks ago.

You enjoyed your tea upstairs while John and Sara got ready to leave downstairs.

John followed Laszlo upstairs.

"I don't think he fancies my company anymore, Laszlo." You heard John murmur outside the guest room the doctor had for you.

"Nonsense John. He was more than exited when you send him a letter back in november." Laszlo said low. The doctor opened your door.

"Where are your manners?" You teased, Laszlo looked at you with a discreet smirk. You were resting besides the window.

"Miss Howard and John are leaving, would you like to go along with them?" The doctor asked, you looked at your cup.

They're going to see something for the case, on a restaurant.

You makes circles with the spoon on your tea.

"No, thank you. I'm actually very tired from the trip." You answer quickly, John looked at you confused probably even offended.

"I'll go tell Mary to prepare dinner for two then." The doctor leaves quickly, you meet John's gaze.

"Look at you, all dressed up." You said getting closer to him, he felt his cheeks warm.

"When was the last we had a time alone?" You asked resting on the door frame.

"Since Harvard." He remarked softly, you hummed.

"Since Harvard! We had fun back in the day, just you and me. I mean—I love Laszlo but you know." You commented with a smirk, he smiled softly.

He catches himself daydreaming constantly about a time alone with you just like in the old days.

John is hurt by your actions, writing him letters where you tell him you miss him, but almost ignoring him when you got reunited.

There was silence, he meets your gaze.

He looked at your almost dandy style, so rich and elegant.

You're handsome at least to him.

John always wondered why you haven't married one of the endless ladies that send you letters.

"John! We must hurry, the sun will go down soon." Sara speaks from downstairs, you looked at the stairs with anger and melancholy.

"Lucky you." You told him, he looks at you extremely confused.

"You're going to enjoy an evening with— Miss Howard—she's a beautiful and strong woman." You said bitter, John scuffed, you arched your eyebrow.

"What is so funny, John?" You asked.

"It seems you are jealous of me." He said with a smirk, you laughed.

"Of you?!— Oh sweet John, No!" You said with a giggle, you crossed your arms.

"I'm jealous of Miss Howard—" You said lower while you got out of the room, John followed you.

"Why would you?" He asked curious, you stoped and turned around facing him, you smiled and got closer to his ear.

"Because I like you, John." You whispered, before he could say anything you hurry downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ayo???? Here have this, I dream of it and I needed to write it down.

You saw me reblog shit about this show, I made gay shit about this show, it isn't a surprise I made a fic of this show.

#the alienist #john moore #laszlo kreizler #john moore x reader #the alienist x reader #x male reader #john s moore #john moore the alienist

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hereticpriest · 1 month

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Chew

Rating: Mature?

Relationship: Laszlo Kreizler x reader

This is a bit of a prequel to Bite, expanding upon the beginnings of their relationship. Soon to be followed by another prequel about their wedding night.

Warnings: Heavily implied odaxelagnia, letters of an intimate nature, flirting in the 1890s, period typical misogyny, period typical relationship culture.

Note: Szerelmem means 'my love' in Hungarian.

When you had first started your job as typist at the Kreizler Institute, you thought that you would have a small cubby tucked away somewhere in the bowels of the Institute. Somewhere where the good people who ran the Institute could forget that you existed until they had need of you, like any woman who dared have a job in these tumultuous times. Your interview with Dr. Kreizler had been perfunctory, but he had paid attention to you as you spoke, and he only interrupted you once, to stop a somewhat self-deprecating verbal spiral. He gave you a short test regarding your typing skills and ability to take dictation, reading over your results with a double-edged comment about your remarkable grasp of the spelling of complex medical terminology.

When you had arrived for your first day, you were surprised to find yourself led up to Dr. Kreizler's office, where a desk had been placed with a typewriter and appropriate supplies. The chair was comfortable, but you felt a little bit nervous under the heavy scrutiny of your boss. Thankfully, he was fair, and genuinely kind most of the time. He was wonderful with the children, and you truly admired the easy manner in which he spoke to them. He had a habit of prying, as if he needed to understand the way your mind worked, and you remember distinctly the moment you told him he couldn’t ever be capable of fully understanding your mind seeing as he was a man, and you were a woman. You had experiences he could never properly relate to.

That had certainly sparked one hell of a debate, but he hadn't been upset with you. Instead, he seemed to want to prove you wrong by way of dissecting your brain while you were meant to be working. He asked you questions endlessly, sometimes completely out of nowhere, and often those of a personal nature. However, you found yourself happy enough to speak to him, exposing your tenuous relationship with your parents, who were upset that you chose to have a job despite their intense desire for you to marry as soon as possible. He noticed your compulsion to chew the skin around your nails and asked you questions about it as if you were his patient rather than his typist. The following morning, you came into work to find a brand new pair of gorgeous gloves on your desk, and Dr. Kreizler suspiciously quiet.

Shortly after, you met the first of his friends, John Moore. He was very kind to you, with a certain sensitivity you weren’t used to seeing in high society men, though he always treated you as if you were very delicate. Next, came Sara Howard, a woman who impressed you very much as she was the first woman to ever work for the Police outside of cleaning staff. You both spent many a time together commiserating over the trials of working for men, though you felt a bit bad since you had much less to complain about than she did. Dr. Kreizler was very kind to you, if blunt and manipulative. He’d never made you feel uncomfortable in the way that men often made women feel uncomfortable, and he was respectful of your personal space. You often stayed at the Institute as late as he did, and he would always offer you his arm to walk you to his carriage, giving you a ride home safely, and walking you to the door despite you insisting it wasn’t necessary.

He was, however, prone to staring. It wasn’t like you thought he was staring at you - you were sure he was just lost in thought and not really seeing what he was looking at - but you could feel his eyes burning into you regardless and it had taken some time to get used to it. He was also prone to prying in ways that were considered socially inappropriate. He asked you about your fears, your dreams, your desires, and your relationship with your parents. He probed when you told him that your parents wanted you to marry instead of working for him. He asked about your prior suitors, or at least attempted suitors, and how you felt about them. Every time you helped with a case, be it criminal or simply a patient, he would demand your opinion and make you defend it.

The fact that he did it to everyone made it easier to handle - he didn’t think you were stupid and feel as if he needed to decipher your nonsensical thinking. On the contrary, he valued your opinion and thus wanted to hear it, and discuss it. He just wasn’t very good at the discussion part, and made it feel more like defending one’s scientific papers. Mr. Moore tended to get offended on your behalf when Dr. Kreizler did it in front of him, but you always took it in stride, and when you were done with the conversation or had run out of points, you simply had to admit it in order for the good doctor to leave you alone. He wasn’t trying to be a pest, he just liked a good argument to get his brain whirring. He liked dissecting every point to find the truth of a matter, and was very much open to considering the opinions of others, which was a rarity. He just made it seem like a fight when it was really his burning curiosity.

The brothers Isaacson entered Dr. Kreizler’s group last, and together they began to work on the case of the murders of young boy prostitutes. Mr. Moore protested your involvement like he did Sara’s, but you were a bit more gentle in telling him that you had a very strong stomach. You were, in fact, fascinated by the whole ordeal, which was a morbid fact you tried to keep to yourself lest you seem rather strange. You didn’t do any investigating yourself - you were simply there to take notes, and make copies of the files that Sara borrowed from the Police department. However, Dr. Kreizler brought you everywhere with him when he was investigating, offering you his arm and keeping himself between you and any other men to avoid you becoming uncomfortable. He was careful with you, and you appreciated that he took you into consideration when he brought you to less than appropriate places.

Note-taking for the investigators brought you to becoming somewhat comfortable in Dr. Kreizler’s home, as you all often met there, and Dr. Kreizler had a habit of thinking aloud when he was finished at a crime scene. He began asking you to come back with him to the house so that you could discuss the case, notes you had already taken, and what you were missing. Often, John Moore and Sara Howard would join you if they had the time, though you lied to your parents when you told them you were never actually alone with Dr. Kreizler. Countless times, you had curled up on the sofa across from him, talking until Cyrus or Stevie would have to remind you that you might want to leave before nightfall. The good doctor would come with you in the carriage even though he had no need to, and it always made you feel soft, even if he’d been rather annoying or mean that day.

It was only recently that things had begun to change.

Your parents were on a rampage - a backhanded reference to your wasted youth and beauty by one of their high society friends had sent them into a tizzy, and you found yourself the victim of near-constant badgering. They were insistent that you leave your job and let them find you a husband so you could raise your station and theirs. For a long portion of your employment, you’d been able to stave them off by promising that you did want to marry, you just wanted to experience the world a little bit first. Unsurprisingly, that had come to bite you in the ass. They had found a gentleman whose prospects were affected by his unfortunate stutter, and he was willing to overlook your want for employment. Your parents had given you a lecture the previous night, and made it very clear that you were going to marry this man when he asked. The ‘or else’ was implied, and had kept you up all night.

You stumble on the slight ridge where the door to Dr. Kreizler’s office closes, which he told you was used for privacy as it helped dampen sound. It’s the first time you’ve ever been careless enough to trip over it, and you find yourself caught in the stare of the good doctor, his honey-brown eyes scanning over you quickly as if looking for an explanation.

“Are you okay, Miss L/N?”

Something about the soft way he asks you causes a crack in your demeanour, and you nod, swiftly making your way to your desk.

“Of course, Doctor.”

A disbelieving hum answers you and you settle yourself at your desk, opening Dr. Kreizler’s journal to the marked page where you left off so you could resume your work. You lose yourself in it, the soft clicks of the typewriter lulling your mind enough that you don’t hear the doctor’s approach until his hand gently closes around your wrist, pulling your palm away from your mouth. He hisses air through his teeth as you stare, ashamed, at the mottled purple of your thenar eminence. You didn’t even realise you were doing it. You knew you had been biting last night after your lecture from your parents, however, you never thought you would unconsciously do it in the presence of Dr. Kreizler.

“Your biting habit worries me.” He states as he leans his hip against your desk so that he can look at you properly, “What troubles you?”

Another crack.

“Let me help you, Miss L/N.”

Spiderweb cracks spread across the glass separating you from your emotions. You have so little control of yourself left, so close to breaking. You close your eyes briefly, steadying yourself, then look up at your boss as calmly as you possibly can, “It is a childish matter, Doctor, I couldn’t possibly trouble you with it. Please excuse my behaviour.”

Dr. Kreizler sighs.

“Miss L/N, please tell me.” he asks a little more sincerely, and you shatter. Your bottom lip wobbles, and his fingers slip up from your wrist to wrap around your hand instead, an intimacy that makes both of your faces’ hot. His fingers slip through yours, and you stare at your hands instead of looking at him, nerves sparking at the intimacy.

“My parents want me to marry.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Yes, well, they’ve found a man willing to take me on despite my questionable desire for employment.” You inform him, looking from your linked fingers to his face and noticing a tightening in his jaw.

“Ah.” He acknowledges, taking a breath, and for the first time you notice the flowers sitting on his desk, and the letter attached to them. You don’t forget your troubles so much as grab the distraction with both hands.

“Oh, those are lovely. I apologise for overstepping my bounds, however, may I ask who they’re for?” You ask, “You even wrote a letter. That’s so lovely, Dr. Kreizler.”

The doctor’s cheeks go pink, and he glances at the flowers before looking back at you, “Have you accepted his courtship?”

Your face falls, and you frown as he outright ignores your query, which seems almost worse than if he were to tell you off for it. But, you shake your head, looking away from him as you pull your hand free of his. He holds on for a moment longer before letting you go.

“He has yet to formally ask me, and thus I haven’t yet been forced to decline as I intend to.”

The tension in Dr. Kreizler’s shoulders ease, and you wet your lower lip as he leaves you, walking over to his desk and picking up the flowers. His nervousness rubs off on you, and you stand, following behind him.

“The flowers are for you. I know it is wholly unprofessional for me to propose courtship at your place of employment, however I believe we’ve surpassed the simple bonds of employer and employee to something more akin to friendship, so I hope you will forgive me. I-I know that I may not be what you want in a man… I have… deficiencies that may make you hesitant, and I know that I am difficult.” he says as he touches his right arm, which you knew about only because he had needed assistance one evening while you were at his home without anyone who knew about it, ”But I would take care of you in all ways. You would want for little, and of course, you would be able to continue your employment and pursuits of knowledge. I would never deny you anything simply for the fact of your gender.”

You’ve never thought of Dr. Kreizler that way. In the interest of keeping a professional relationship on both sides, and treating him with the same careful respect as he treated you, you had put his being a man firmly in the back of your mind. He was a doctor. He was a brilliant mind. He was your boss. He was something of a friend. Last, and very much least, he was a man. As you stare at him in shock, you begin to put latent thoughts together that you’ve often pushed to the back of your mind. He is a handsome man, with sweet honey-brown eyes and lovely brown hair. His body is appealing, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. His intelligence is attractive - you’ve always known it in the back of your mind, but you’ve ignored how that might’ve made you feel, instead focusing on the outcomes of his intelligence. He is well-groomed, from his pristine facial hair to his fantastic outfits, which you know cost a pretty penny. He has always cared for you, and shown you some of the best sides of himself to balance the times when he is more difficult. His weaker hand ghosting across your back when he helps you from the carriage while his strong hand holds yours to steady you comes to mind when you think of how he cares for you. Your father has never shown that much care for your mother - your coachman helps your mother from the carriage while your father marches on ahead.

You realise with a start that Dr. Kreizler is everything you’ve ever said you wanted when you considered marriage. And as you examine the softness and the twinge of hope in his eyes, you realise that you do actually want this. You want him. Your cheeks grow hot as you realise that you truly, honestly, deeply do want him. And he just asked if you would let him court you.

A surprised ‘oh!’ escapes your lips in a rush of air, and you take the flowers from him, staring at them in shock.

“I… I would accept, should you propose courtship, Dr. Kreizler. I thank you for asking me rather than my parents, however, my family is old fashioned and you… well, you would need to ask my father as well.” You admit, and he seems surprised that you agreed, which hurts your heart.

“I had intended on pursuing this properly, once I knew your desires on the matter.”

“And now you do. Perhaps you should call on my father.”

“I will.” He assures you, and you stare into his eyes for a moment, holding your flowers to your chest like he might try to take them back.

“Good. I will await the good news.” You reply with a firm nod, and a smile creeps across your face like you’re trying to restrain it, mirrored on his own. You head over to your desk, and he moves quickly to pull your chair out for you, drawing a shy smile to your lips. You spend the rest of your day at work listening to the soft rumble of Dr. Kreizler’s voice and trying quite hard not to laugh when three separate patients, two of the other workers at the Institute, and John Moore remark on the man being in a particularly good mood today.

That evening, a knock comes at your door, and you wait with baited breath, hiding at the top of the stairs as Dr. Laszlo Kreizler asks your father for permission to court you. His proposal is professionally detached, running off of what you’ve told him about your parents, and emphasising that he would like to pursue marriage swiftly. Your father knows exactly who the good doctor is - he had done his research when you began working for him - and he is aware of exactly how wealthy the man is. His social status has suffered from his career choice and his strange views, but he’s still above the man they’d intended for you, and they knew you would be well-looked upon for getting the man to finally settle down. It would look good on him to marry a high class woman with good standing as well.

You stand up quickly as you hear your mother approaching the stairs, and she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees you, looking happy about you for the first time in a long while. She encourages you to come down, and as you approach her, she teases you gently about having a gentleman suitor and that perhaps she should have seen the wisdom of you working with a well-to-do man as if this had all been your plan. You’re happy enough to let her believe what she likes so long as she isn’t angry with you. You had changed after returning home from work, and now wore a dinner gown that was much prettier than much of the clothing Dr. Kreizler - Laszlo, as he’d asked you to start calling him - had ever seen you wear. He brightens at the sight of you, and you smile demurely, taking your father’s arm delicately.

“Dr. Kreizler has come to ask to court you, darling.” He says as he pats your hand on his arm fondly, as if he hadn’t been arguing with you a short few hours ago. You smile with a bit of faux surprise on your face, and you give your father’s arm an encouraging squeeze.

“Well, with your approval, Father, I will most heartily accept.” You reply, and you smile as Laszlo holds out a sealed letter to you, taking it from him and tucking it into one of your pockets. He kisses the back of your hand and bids you all farewell, promising to return in the next week or two to get to know your family better, and asking your parents if it would be acceptable to take you for a chaperoned walk this coming Saturday. You bite the inside of your cheek to hide your excitement, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you try to keep your cool in front of your parents.

You tear into your letter and drown yourself in his words, his proclamations of adoration and desire. He begins with a softer tone - how surprised he was when you came in for your interview, the way you provoked his mind, how impressed he was to find that you’d read not only his own work but the work of other alienists. How you coaxed him to open up piece by piece, in ways he hadn’t expected. How you’d encouraged him to see some of the little joys in life when you’d brought him to the rooftop gardens and told him what each of the flowers was. The way he loved to hear your opinions on cases, be they criminal or patients of the Institute, for you always surprised him with a new perspective.

Next, he professes little intimacies. You were wrong when you’d assumed he wasn’t staring at you and was simply lost in thought. He admits to getting lost in the soft curve of your smile, the delicate click of your fingers on the keys of the typewriter, and the way you sometimes hum while you’re working. He loves the way you grip his bicep in your hand when you walk together, and the gentle flex of your fingers when you get excited by something you see, or the clench of your hand when you get annoyed by something. That you trust him so deeply as he helps you from the carriage, barely looking where you’re going as he guides you, trusting him to keep you safe. How his heart races when your knees bump together in the carriage, or when you let him place his hand on your lower back to guide you through a crowd at Delmonico’s. How he dreams of the soft curve of your back, and what it might look like unbound.

By the end of the letter, your heart is racing just as he’d professed his own had raced, and you lay back on your bed after you’ve unburdened yourself of your day’s clothing with the help of your maid. Alone, you hide yourself under layers of blankets, your hand between your thighs as you read your doctor’s private words for you. You stroke your pleasure from sparks to a fire, eyelashes brushing against your cheekbones as you toss your head back into the pillows, a silent cry caught in your throat. Guilt burdens you afterwards in the cold dark of your bedroom, and you slip from your bed to sit at your desk in your nightdress, writing in a flurry to your doctor. Now, with the last remnants of your act of devotion cooling on your inner thighs, your writing is sinful. But your doctor does not believe in a God, nor the binds that society places on a man and a woman, and he will not shame you for your weakness. Perhaps he will even take himself in hand like you did, and devote himself to you in love and sin.

The idea of it burns you, and you bite your trembling lip as you write about what you’d done with his name upon your lips, hidden under metaphors that he will doubtless understand. By the time you’re done, you know this letter should be burnt. If you were a good, pious, proper woman you would walk down the stairs to the fire in the fireplace and burn the letter to avoid anyone seeing your shameful words. You seal it, then slip it into the pocket of your coat, crawling into bed and getting comfortable for the night. The following morning, your face is burning as you place the letter into Laszlo’s hand, and he gives you a discreet smile that only worsens the feeling until you settle at your desk to pretend you aren’t an unprofessional ball of embarrassment.

You hear a soft gasp, and your eyes meet Laszlo’s as he reads your letter, his cheeks burning. He coughs, adjusting in his seat, and folds the letter, presumably to read later. A wise choice. You giggle, and he smiles despite himself, turning his gaze back to his papers. You admire him for a moment longer to make up for all the time you’ve wasted not gazing at him, then turn back to your work, excited for the future. Hopefully, he won’t make you wait too long to be wed. It seems almost a waste to delay any longer.

You find yourself engaged no more than two months later.

#laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler

13 notes · View notes

babybluebex · 3 years

Text

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.”

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cazimagines · 3 years

Text

I see you shiver with antici...pation

Based upon my Laszlo edging headcanon which you can read here

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

Word count: 10k

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

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

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Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And painful it was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s safe to say they didn’t return.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Achingly so my love”

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

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

“I’ll always need you” he whimpered

“Who do you belong to?”

“You”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

While Laszlo ached from his orgasm being ripped away from him once again, he shot you a thankful glance for stopping before John could see what had happened and saved him from relentless teasing and embarrassment from John. Though he knew John wouldn’t be one to spread rumours about him, John certainly would remark about it to him and with the exceedingly loud voice he possessed, any stranger could overhear what he had to say and Laszlo feared what the people who disliked him greatly would make of it.

He should have known it was far from over though. Later that night again you were down upon him, his slacks pulled down to his ankles, your hands grasping his twitching thighs as he was pressed up against his house door. He hardly got a chance to close it before you were upon him, ripping his slacks down. Taking your mouth off his cock you lick your lips and glance back up at him teasing him for having his cock out so open in public.

“You enjoyed it didn’t you” you’d whisper, your hot breath washing over his cock making him whimper, “Being on display like that. You became so erect from it. I think secretly you wanted to get caught”

“No,” Laszlo whispered, trying to deny such claims, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Oh yes you did, you wanted to get caught, shown to the world as the whore you are”

A shiver went through his spine, tears springing to his eyes which he despairingly tried to hold back, but a cry echoed out of him as he felt your warm lips wrap around his tip again, swirling your tongue over it.

But like every night before he was left just on the edge of pleasure, but never getting that release he needed.

The next day he had arranged to meet up with John for a walk, to exercise the brain by teaching John about psychology. He was preparing his outfit for the day, when your hands grasped his shoulders as he felt his back suddenly pressed against the wall, causing a slight yelp of pain and surprise to pass through his mouth.

Laszlo looked at you wide-eyed, seeing how blown your pupils were with lust, but before he could make any remark you dipped your face into the crook of his neck, lighting tugging his skin in your mouth. He cried out at the pain and the bliss of it all, his hand shooting up to grab your hair, not knowing whether to pull you away or hold you close.

You let go of his skin though, instead now placing your lips over the part you just bit and sucking at it, humming to yourself as you saw the instant darkening of his skin, a bruise already forming.

Laszlo’s jaw was slack as he moaned as the feeling of your lips trailing all over his neck leaving wet marks all over him while simultaneously sucking and biting marks onto his neck, covering him so delicately everyone would know exactly who he belonged to. His eyelids fluttered in a daze and his hips buckling as your lips found the paluse in his neck and harshly sucked upon it.

“Y/n” he moaned loudly, his fingers wrapping themselves tighter in your hair to tug at you, making a moan pull from your throat as well as you felt your hair which you had so neatly tied up, come loose from the pins as his hand pulled further.

By the time you were done with him, he was panting heavily, sweat beads upon his forehead, dark marks trailing down his neck and a tent sticking up in his slacks, which seemed now permanently stretched to compensate for the fact he often had an erection.

“You don’t want to keep John waiting!” you teased as you walked away, hearing Laszlo groan at the realisation he was supposed to meet John at any minute though now he was in no state to do so. Ordering Cryus to get the calash ready he quickly ran around his room, attempting to find ways to cover all the bruises on his neck and his erection.

While Laszlo was out you decided to take a walk of yourself to enjoy the park within New York. You loved to observe all the lovely flowers that bloomed during this time of the year and the way the multicoloured birds flew past you, singing their pretty song. While there you encountered a boy selling newspapers, you gave him a shilling and picked up the newspaper, wanting to see what idle gossip was being spread amongst the people today, but a frown was cast upon your face when you started to read exactly what the latest story said.

In the evening Laszlo collapsed through the door exhausted. Every day this edging had been taking a toll on him, as he was brought upon the peak repeatedly it made him an exhausted mess, and in trying to ensure John did not notice the bruises on his neck or the way his slacks stuck out, it tired him immensely.

He dragged his feet through his house, stumbling into the main room, almost collapsing on the floor but he managed to pull himself slightly together and in glancing up spotted you sitting down at the table, clasping your hands in front of you with today’s newspaper beside you.

“Please y/n, no more edging, I can’t cope” he whispered in a broken voice, looking imploringly at you.

“Have you seen the newspapers today Laszlo?” you ask him, and his eyebrows cast down in confusion his lips moving wordlessly for a brief second.

“I have been… otherwise engaged”

“It mentions you in it”

Laszlo’s skin paled as he realised what exactly was written about him in the newspaper. In this whole week’s worth of torment, he had lacked the chance, or rather the courage to tell you why he had snapped at you. He knew he should of for he didn’t want you to find out in this way, but he had been a coward and now it was time to face his comeuppance for repeatedly withholding the truth from you.

“Y/n..” he began to say, taking a hesitantly step towards you but you had already pushed yourself out of your seat and met him in the middle. You looked up at him, with an unreadable expression and Laszlo almost flinched when he felt your hand cup the side of his face, not expecting it.

“The other day, when you snapped at me, it’s because you were worried about that boy, wasn’t it?” you whispered and observed as Laszlo hung his head in shame at the reminder of what he did to you.

“Yes,” he said so quietly even a bat would have struggled to hear it.

You breathe in as you finally understand Laszlo’s predicament, and what you had made him suffer for this whole week because of it.

“It says you were hit”

“The father… he had a mean right hook”

You sigh, almost feeling tears pool in your eyes from sympathy towards Laszlo. Finally, you took a good look upon him as if ultimately observing him for the first time and seeing how tired and worn out he was. Not only had you been putting him under a great amount of tension, but his work had also been eating away at him and he had to nurse his sore jaw back to health.

“Oh, Laszlo” you whispered, wishing he had just told you this sooner.

Laszlo swallowed, feeling guilty for keeping it a secret from you but he became surprised when he felt your gentle lips brush onto his, pulling him into a kiss. The hand that rested on the side of his face moved back to tangle its fingers within his hair, holding his face close to you as you started to push harder into the kiss, moving your lips which Laszlo instantly recoupled. It was needy, desperate, passionate as your bodies pressed into each other.

Your lips hardly left his as you continuously pushed him back till you entered your bedroom. He didn’t notice the change of setting until you finally pulled away from his lips, just to press your hands to his chest and push him onto the bed.

Laszlo flopped down and grasped the duvet of the bed in surprise, looking around briefly at the bed and then back to you who stood before him, smirking at seeing him lying down before you in anticipation. Instantly you crawled onto him, your lips going to nip along his jawline making him gasp softly. Your hands worked at the buttons of his waistcoat, but it was taking too long to undress him.

Grasping the material of his dress shirt in your hand, you ripped it open, tearing it down the middle until it was left in shreds and exposed his chest for you.

Laszlo whined, exclaiming how expensive that was, but you shut him up by shoving your tongue into his opened mouth. You pressed your tongue against him, coxing it to move along with you as you explored every inch of his mouth, determined to feel all of it with your tongue. It made Laszlo hum with approval as he felt the way your tongue felt in his mouth.

Your hands trailed along his chest, running your fingers through the slight amount of body hair that had grown upon him. It felt coarse in your hands but you loved the feeling of it upon your palms. Lightly your fingers tugged upon it, trying not to be too harsh upon him but nevertheless, he moaned into your mouth from it.

You didn’t want to wait around any longer now, and you knew Laszlo couldn’t bear it either. You pulled back from his lips, a trail of saliva linking the two of you for a breath second till it broke. You wanted to laugh at the way his erection poked up so clearly in his slacks, how it had seemed he never stopped having one and his slacks had therefore adjusted to it. Without a seconds hesitation, your hand pulled down the slacks as fast as you could, ripping them off his legs leaving him completely in the nude.

His erection instantly rose, now free of its condiments. The tip was a deep purple and you knew how aching it must be. Already pre-cum smeared the tip, leaking out of Laszlo in excitement. The vein upon him you could see eagerly throbbing in anticipation, desperate for you. You found his cock so pretty, and you just wanted to pepper it in kisses, but now was not the time. He needed to be inside of you at last, and who were you to deny him.

Quickly you rid yourself of your own restricting clothes, and Laszlo watched with pure admiration towards you as your body was exposed to him. He particularly whined as you finally revealed your chest and his mouth was salivating at the thought of taking them in his mouth.

You clambered onto his hips and positioned yourself above him. You took his cock in one hand, making sure he aligned with your cunt, and Laszlo’s hands reached to grab your thighs, stabilizing yourself and for his own sake to have something to cling to.

Taking in one last deep breath, you pushed your hips onto him with a quick thrust downwards, sliding his cock into you.

Laszlo’s head hit the pillow as a loud moan echoed out of him, the hands grasping your thighs tightened, surely leaving bruises for the morning. The feeling of your wet, velvet walls taking him in, opening up for him and surrounding him in heat was orgasmic, and he did almost cum at that very moment. He felt like crying from the swarm of pleasure washing over him, after all these times of handjobs and blowjobs, finally to be buried inside of you was blissful. Instantly his hips tried to push up, attempting to shove himself further into you.

Placing your hands upon your chest, you lift your hips up just to slam them back down onto his hips. A broken sob echoed out of Laszlo from the friction, and already you were panting from the feeling of how Laszlo’s wide girth opened you up, pushing into that spongy spot inside of you that sent electric waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You started to move your hips faster and faster upon him, the sound of clapping mixed with loud moaning from the two of you likely could be heard from anyone in the house. Laszlo rocked his hips in time with you, feeling the need to plunder into you.

“I’m-I’m close” he managed to tell you between gasps.

You looked down upon him and your heart fluttered at the way his cheeks, even coved by his beard, were bright red. His eyes were half open and completely glazed in lust, his lips were puffy from the way you ravaged them earlier but they looked so beautiful now as they hung open from the way he was continuously gasping after every thrust into you.

Your hands left his chest to grasp his shoulders and you coxed him up till his chest was pushed against yours and his hands instantly moved to grasp your back. His stronger hand was placed between your shoulder blades while his other hand was able to rest on the dip of your back. From this position, it was easier for him to thrust into you, and so he did with quick, harsh thrusts that were accompanied by deep grunts. His lips moved from your ears as he bent down slightly to press kisses to your chest. But from all this edging it didn’t take him any time at all to reach his climax and for a second, for a split second, he feared you would rip it away again, that he would be left unsatisfied and aching in torment.

And then he came.

He let out such a lewd moan that if he had more of his wits about him, he would have been deeply blushing at. But instead, his head flew back and you had to grasp his back to ensure he wouldn’t fall back onto the bed. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head as the most powerful orgasm he’s ever had washed through him. His legs shook from the stimulation making his whole body convulse, his fingers dug into your back, leaving crescent-shaped marks upon him. You were a moaning mess yourself, feeling the way his seed splattered against your walls, coating them in an oozing warmth. Laszlo continued to cry out from the pleasure as he slowly thrust in time with him pumping, excessive amounts of cum flowing out of him from all the times he had been worked up.

Finally, after what you swore must have been a good few minutes, his thrusts slowed as the final dribble of cum flowed out of him and his head went slack against your shoulder. His body shuddered in timing with his pants as he gasped for breath, feeling like he had just run for his life. His heartbeat steadily against his chest, and from the way you two were so close to each other, it felt as if his heartbeat was one with your own.

He rested there, just enjoying being surrounded by your heart until suddenly you started moving your hips upon him again.

His face shot up to yours in surprise, instantly gasping, “Y/n” but you just smirked.

“After all this time Laszlo,” you started to say, stroking his face, “Would you expect me to let you get away with one orgasm? I haven’t even had my own yet”

And with that, you lifted your hips and slammed back down onto him.

Laszlo cried out, tears springing to his eyes from the sudden overstimulation. His tip hurt, ached as it was pushed up against your walls, but his body betrayed him as you felt him hardening within you again.

You pushed Laszlo back down onto the bed again, and gently you grasped his wrists. With his stronger hand, you pulled it up to his head and held it down there, while with his deformed hand you brought it up to your face, and wrapped your lips around his fingers, sucking them gently.

He bit down on his lip, nearly drawing blood as he watched as you did that, making his heart flutter even more from the love for you that overwhelmed him.

As you thrust down upon him, you let go of his hands to push your body down and press your breasts upon his face, instantly he sort for your nipples and wrapped his lips around one, running his tongue along them and sucking.

He adored your breasts and the way your nipples harden under his touches. Sucking upon you brought him comfort and peace but he had to let go as he suddenly felt once again another orgasm pulling close to him.

Tears streamed from his eyes as he started chanting your name between broken sobs, his hips thrusting up on their own once again seeking his orgasm, and shuddering, you felt him twitch and throb within you as he released his seed again. Less this time but still powerful that you felt it pool into you, making you feel full with his already laid load in you.

By now Laszlo was completely spent, his sweat sticky body pressing into the bedsheets, his breath shallow as he tried to recover from it but still you moved your hips upon him.

“Please” he cried out “I- I-I can’t come again. It hurts too much” he sobbed but you sushed him.

“I know you can darling, you be my good boy and treat me okay”

He whimpered in response, feeling pins and needles attacking his tip but still down to your command he thrust his hips lightly into you again.

His body was flushed and trembling in your grasp, broken moans coming from his raw throat but still you rode him, harshly and tightly till you felt your own throes of an orgasm crash down upon you.

As Laszlo felt your cunt grasp him tightly, pulling him in and fluttering around him, it brought him to one last brink. He cried out so loudly the whole street probably heard. It was pain mixed with pleasure as he came. His eyes scrunched up tightly and his mouth was open agaite as he cried, and pushed out the last bits of cum from his poor, throbbing cock.

He finally went limp and you collapsed upon his chest, too exhausted to do anything else. Neither of you moved, instead panting loudly as you tried to steady your breath. Eventually his arms wrapped around you again, and he placed gentle kisses all upon your face,

“Thank you” he croaked and you shot him a confused glance.

“Just- thank you”

A/N: Tomorrow (Sunday 11th) I will be starting my 900 followers celebration in which I will be writing drabble for any requests I get in. I'll be releasing more detail in the morning (bst time) about it, which Daniel characters I will be writing for and one surprise non-Daniel character I will be including in the list 😌 so keep a watch out for that if you would like to send any requests in

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#dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kriezler x reader #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler imagine #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler smut #the alienist #daniel bruhel #daniel bruehl #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

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Hello! I'm watching The Alienist- Angel of Darkness, and I keep thinking of a fic where laszlo's wife!reader just gave birth and this case worries the poor man more than usual, because their baby is in danger and he can't get into the assassin's mind. Perhaps the reader could offer to breastfeed laszlo, and they have an in-depth conversation about the workings of the killer's mind and why the reader herself enjoys nurturing her husband. Perhaps it would even become a habit after the case was solved and every time Doctor Kreizler wanted some milk, he would let her know with a touch just below her breast that would go unnoticed in public as a gesture of affection? I think I thought about it too much, what do you think about writing about it?

The Marriage of Happiness [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Wife!Reader]

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: erotic lactation, breastfeeding kink, mention of other kinks and of murder

A/N: What do I think about writing it? I think THANKY YOU because I could write Laszlo having a boobie obsession for the rest of my life. I do think about it daily and it is just THE kink for him (as poor @cazzyimagines knows how obsessed I am). The case of studies mentioned are taken from psychology books of the time. I don''t know what point you're with Angel of Darkness so I am not giving out too much.

The night was dark and tensed, not a soul on the streets of the residential area you lived in with your husband, the only light up the one in your bedroom.

You became mother three months before welcoming the first little Kreizler of her generation. It was hard but worth every second, every moment of the pregnancy and the delivery your husband was with you. You were lucky, you felt lucky to be with a man like Laszlo: open minded, modern, charming and righteous.

You smiled walking around the room as you lulled your baby humming a soft lullaby, the baby observing you with dazzling eyes, you could see she was tired and the melody kept her attentive but also lulled her to a place of comfort.

You swayed slowly in a gentle waltzer, your arms embracing the tiny body wrapped up into the finest white clothing. You yourself wore your white nightdress with a dark green cover up that Laszlo gifted you, it was slightly bigger in size so you’d use it though the whole pregnancy, your hair loosely braided.

The baby opened her mouth making a soft sound, she was calm and relaxed, to see her like this brought you an immense joy.

You heard steps approaching to the door, the house was empty since Stevie was with Laszlo and the cook you hired was in her quarters, you wouldn’t be worried if your husband wasn’t working on a case of abducted babies, but then you followed Laszlo’s common sense and listened instead of letting your mind worry. You listened to the steps coming one after the other, the weight of them, the pace.

You smiled to yourself as you guessed right, your husband appeared on the door frame and the shadow over his face disappeared for a moment meeting your standing figure with the baby. Since the case begun he refused to have any new staff in the house, he brought the bed of the baby in your bedroom, which wasn’t common back then, and every night sent Stevie to roam around the streets before going to bed to see if there was any obscure presence.

“My love” he said with a smile as he walked his way toward you undoing his jacket as you offered him a look of the falling asleep baby. His left hand gently caressing the little chest to feel the breathe of life in it. The baby blinked at him and smiled. Your baby girl was an early smiler, she smiled in her first month which just ripped off her father soul, tucked it in her little pocket and sold him forever. He was already ecstatic to be a father, only the announcement of your pregnancy got him wild, a mix of worry and tenderness always over him. The constant fear to be losing it. To lose what you brought to his life, not only his daughter but that happiness, the home feeling, the meaning to have something to come back to at night.

He loved you like a flower loves the water, he loved you more than metaphors can explain. He closed his eyes pressing his forehead against your temple, you rocked the baby gently in your arms as she relaxed, the sleep over her even if the presence of her father stirred her a bit.

“I am so worried for her” he murmured, he couldn’t cope with it anymore. The pressure to be following that case.

Sara told him to drop it, but he couldn’t. He owed it to Martha Napp, he owed him to his own child. To be in the case put his darling baby into the spotlight, but the best chance to solve it and avoid the menace of losing the apple of his eyes was to fight the crime from the inside.

And yet, he couldn’t. He couldn’t get inside it.

He looked up and noticed your eyes on him, you detected the twist into his mind, the fear, the tremble of his intentions.

You kissed his cheek as his head was bowed slightly before slowly moving away to lean the baby into her cradle.

“Get comfortable” you urged him softly as he nodded to you undoing his jacket and his waist coat shrugging them off his shoulders as you adjusted the baby into her usual sleeping position, you pulled the covers over her caressing her head full of dark blonde hair like her father had as a child. You brushed them gently as she stirred and relaxed again, a soft sound coming from her mouth. She was well dressed, well fed and happy, you knew your child had all the possibilities in life to be the most charming and smartest woman of her times.

You moved the little veils on top of the crib to shield her from the dim lights of the room before pacing your way back to your husband.

Laszlo was sat on your shared bed. His eyes focused in the nothing in front of him. His waistcoat and jacket abandoned as he wore only his candid white shirt and dark pants.

You picked the hooked needle as you slowly bowed to your knees, he blinked surprised for a moment as you begun to undo his boots silently. You knew him, you gave him time to express himself. He was elaborating still, collecting ideas after a day spent talking back and forth with Sara.

“I saw the body” he said as you looked up.

“The body of Martha Napp’s baby” he added and you frowned, the poor woman, you couldn’t imagine yourself in her position. You’d probably be accused of murder too because you’d probably become feral if somebody touched your baby.

“Are you sure it is her baby?”

You knew he was sure, but the hope still fazed you.

“The child was poisoned, the deadly pallor was evident but Martha mentioned her child had an identifying contusion” he took a pause, he licked his lips as you could almost see him relieve the scene in his mind “A benign hemangioma under her left axilla”

He looked at you, to see the corpse of a baby, a baby that could be his, to find out a baby girl was abducted and this time in a well known residential area. The anxiety took over him. He was pestered by dark worries, images that saw you in a state of loss and disruption like the poor Señora Linares.

His eyes rested onto you, your calm firmness made him shake at times. His strong and aggressive demeanour might show him as the rock of the couple, but you are. You’re the one that can overcome things, that can see clearly when his mind is clouded.

“Might that child soul rest now with her mother, if you allow me I will take care of organising the burial along with the mother’s corpse as soon as the Isaacson’s have concluded their inspections on it”

He looked at you, a soft smile crept on him. Your thoughtful self always finding the cure to the pain. He saw the failure and you found the ultimate resolution. You could not join them in life, let it be in death.

You gave him a warm smile before finishing with both his boots and pulling them out, your hands slowly tracing his calves and ankles resting your chin on his knee to interject his eyes.

“Darling”

He blinked, he zoned out again and your voice called him back.

“I apologise” he only said

You stood up, his eyes lingering over your body for a moment. You healed like a true champion after the delivery, in few weeks you were back on your feet like nothing, in a month you were able to attend events. Your energy and vitality made you seem immortal to his eyes, which triggered his fears of loss even more.

Something so special, so strong like you, the idea to see you broken in any shape or form poisoned his soul and tortured his heart.

“Laszlo” once again, you called him back to reality as you sat beside him “you’re not thinking clearly”

He huffed softly, you were right.

“I can’t focus” he admitted finally taking your hand in his “I even upset the señora with my questions, enraged Sara, I feel like an headless chicken rushing around to find answers I can’t deal with. The scientific community protecting a butcher, John doing all he can at the newspaper and yet I am providing nothing to this investigation but background noise” he frowned deeply.

You could tell he was doing it for Martha and for you. He wanted to protect you and he tried to keep you far from all that darkness.

“Come” you said as you moved to your spot on the bed relaxing your legs as you adjusted some pillows behind your back “come on”

You hushed him and he obeyed quietly crawling on the bed, his frown still present. You hated to see him like that. Usually he was able to keep cases of study and worries outside of the bedroom, but this case was too personal.

You smiled at him as you undid the silly bow on your neck that kept the upper part of your night gown up. It was a maternity gown so to undo that little knot exposed the sensual curve of your breasts in a second. His eyes indulged over that little silky cloth twisted around your finger and the stars of little moles on your chest, he knew each of them by memory, he knew the scent of your perfume and the oils you use after bathing.

He looked up at you with a questioning look, he mindlessly run the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip when you exposed your juicy breasts. He always had a thing for them, he was always enchanted by the feminine chest as the highest form of femininity, big or small, that sensual shape was the epitome of life, of the charms of Eve in the Garden of Eden, the Mother Earth personified into the sacred body of his wife.

His eyes darted up back at you, a silent question on him as you didn’t let his confusion overwhelm you, you fought it with calmness and temperance.

“I know only one way to calm a restless Kreizler”

Your words would have made him smile as your open arms weren’t such a charming offer. He run his tongue again over his upper lip this time, using his left arm as support he slowly slipped closer to you.

His face leaned to yours as you didn’t seem to have changed your mind.

Somebody else would have maybe found it repulsive, a man of simple and good heart like John would have felt that kind of attention misplaced.

But not him.

He lowered himself over your chest adjusting into a nice position as you used few extra pillows you had there to ensure him a comfortable stay. His nose gently brushed over the inside of your chest, his hot breath hitting over your skin as he looked up at you once more and once more a welcoming smile followed his gaze.

He leaned down once again, lips parted to gently capture your nipple among them. Your mouth gaping lightly as he sucked a bit too much at the beginning sending shivers down your spine but just like any child his sucking revealed his anxiety to be fed, his fear and his need of protection.

You wrapped one arm around him as with the other you brushed his hair, your nails gently scratching his scalp to relax him, fingers combing his always well kept hair.

You watched his eyes flutter closed as you resumed your usual humming. It wasn’t a real lullaby, it was some of a rhythm you got stuck in your head.

“You’re here and I am here, our baby is safe from the world outside and nothing bad can happen” you narrated softly to him “you’re the most amazing man I have ever met, I know that the clarity of your thinking will come back. Just stop the world for a moment, it will all be back when the time comes right”

He hummed softly as you fell silent gently caressing him as you observed him lovingly, the fingers of his weak right hand toying with your braid. His beard hitching a bit in the beginning but you got soon used to it, you didn’t speak up anymore, you felt him relax more and more and you also did. This new kind of bond felt pleasurable and sweet, you felt to have reached a new kind of intimacy which is all you could hope for your marriage.

The time passed in silence, not a sound disturbing you until Laszlo’s relaxed body stretched lightly, the common knowledge telling you that the baby is fed.

He pulled back slowly before resting a kiss over your chest in a silent thank you.

He rested his head over your lap observing you like some Madonna staring at him with you gentle tenderness, not even Michelangelo could have grasped the beauty of your act or the absolute unfiltered love of your gaze.

“Was it pleasurable for you?”

He asked as you smiled gently caressing his cheek and his beard

“It was, you are really gentle” you answered. Another thing that you loved about your marriage was the unfiltered expression of feelings. You both looked for clarity through the eyes of your partner.

“Does it makes me your child?”

You smiled understandingly. This is your Laszlo, inquiring, curious, witty.

“No, no I don’t have a feeling that resemblance to breastfeed a child, it is more deep, more bound into my mind as an act of” you stopped thinking about it.

“Communion?”

He dared and you nodded as that was the right word.

“There’s a 1903 study, a German alienist suggested practicing erotic lactation as a way to deepen the relationship between husband and wife in a book called Die Offenbarung im Weibe, quite of a title I’d say, but he advised it as a good way to family plan, to give both the partners pleasure and he focused most of his studies over the idea of women’s sexual satisfaction being vital to the creation of an happy marriage.”

“It pleases me, I won’t deny it and it is a way that makes me feel you closer to me but in a more primal way, closer to the way sex works but with a different meaning”

He nodded as he toyed still with your brain slowly, a little fetish he just noticed in himself still doomed by the charm of unfiltered pure femininity.

Long hair, breasts, welcoming hips, all details that attracted him and drawn him toward you.

“There’s a study case, a man, a very wealthy one, he was obsessed with female hair. The smell, the composition, the touching” he paused as he toyed with yours among his fingers “He wouldn’t be able to suppress his desire, he confessed me his deepest fantasy was to have an orgasm while kissing the female hair and burying his head through them. It was peculiar but not harmful until he got himself a pocket knife, one of those not even good for a little pickpocketing but just as good to be able to cut some ladies’s hair in a crowd”

You kept caressing his hair yourself, probably moved also by the story, observing it and enjoying the texture.

“Do you think the killer of children needs to posses his fetish then?”

He nodded as you’re so smart.

“The possession is part of the final abdication of a person to their fetish, to be up to crime to own the desired being just proves the final commitment to the satisfaction of one’s desires” he explained to you and he paused now almost asking to himself “why would somebody steal a child then?”

You turned around looking at the crib where your baby girl rested.

“Because my crib is empty” you said and his eyes widened lightly.

“Tell me more, try to imagine it”

You frowned lightly as you moved your hands away from him, making distance, imagining the loneliness of empty arms, the excruciating pain of having a child and then not having it anymore.

“I need to give my love to my child” you said then taking a pause, your eyes staring to some unknown spot of the room “and if my child is not there, I will make sure that there will be”

Laszlo sat up as he stared at you.

“But that child won’t resemble you, your child was special and peculiar in its own way, this child grows up, changes, blabbers words while yours didn’t”

He pushed this image in you as you came to the only reasonable deduction you’d do if you were in such a state

“Then that is not my child” you said only “my child is somewhere else and this one is an impostor”

Laszlo nodded “So you get rid of it as soon as the reality outgrows the fantasy”

He concluded.

You looked at him as he stared back at you, a woman, the killer must be a woman that lost a child or got it taken away from her. She finds surrogates and dismisses them, she probably never saw her baby grow so they can’t grow.

“What would I do without you?”

You smiled at his words “you’d be completely lost, we both know about it” you said kissing his lips having a taste of your own medicine “now get into your night clothing, you’ll see Sara tomorrow to give her this new perspective.”

He smiled, not even a trace of the worried and confused Laszlo that stepped I the room before. He was back to his senses, his mind active, he could see with clarity.

- - - - - - -

The case unveiled itself, proof after proof, run after run, document after document he came to the solution.

He was proud, you and the baby were safe and now he could go back to the everyday.

“I don’t see the point Laszlo, you have proved yourself enough against him” John said as he stared up at his annoyed features s you served him some more tea.

John looked at you like why are you not stopping him but you just smiled it off relaxing in the loveseat beside your husband as John shook his shoulders like an annoyed bird.

“A man like Dr Markoe after all he did holding a public lecture with the anguishing title of Murder, Madness and Motherhood?” Laszlo snapped back at John “please, the least I can do is to humiliate him in front of the whole academic arena”

Laszlo leaned back smiling at his friend like he was just a poor fool.

“He will again fight on you, you know he always picks up on you for treating mostly children and being part of the investigation, you get heated with him and you lose your control”

John seemed only to know reasons to get Laszlo to desist, you understood him from your part, your husband was a fiery character and he hardly forgive people with quick and poor judgements. You also noticed he became way more aggressive toward Markoe since before the case, he always depicted pregnant women as prone to lose control, foolish and behaving like animals that had to be kept on a tight leash, it all in particular when you were expecting.

John’s tsunami of words couldn’t be stopped he had a reason not to do anything but your attention was quickly taken away by the soft touch of Laszlo’s hand on your side, just above the hem of your corset, his thumb tracing the side of your boob giving you a shiver as you already knew perfectly what he was demanding.

You could now tell that John actually made him feel unsure or at least unsettled him, he needed comfort and energies to face his enemy now.

Sara groaned making herself heard for the first time, she noticed his gesture and found it actually cute as she could never wish Laszlo with somebody more perfected than you. Your calmness matched his fiery nature, you talked when he needed to think, you smiled when he couldn’t. You allowed him to be more himself than he had ever been.

“Let’s go John, you’re being so obnoxious, at what time we will see the butchery of the doctor?”

You quickly answered to her giving her a gentle smile as she put John to silence.

She asked as she stood up and John groaned following her “See you there” John said still saying how useless it was to still go after that man.

Laszlo stood up escorting them to the exit and then coming back to the living room. You sat there like he left you, he would close the door behind his back locking it before crossing the room with long steps and close the curtains letting the darkness wrap around you. Your fingers slowly undoing your shirt as his shape takes again form in front of you as he turns on one lamp in the corner of the room before moving closer to you again, eyes shining even in the obscurity as his fingers finally meet with your skin once you undid the first knots on your corset.

“Give me life” he would plead to you before lacing his lips your nipple once more.

You knew from the first suck on your nipple how Markoe held no chance on today’s debate.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog

#dr laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler drabble #dr laszlo kreizler x you #dr kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr kreizler #laszlo kreizler fic #laszlo kreizler x y/n #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler fanfiction #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler imagine #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler headcanons #tw: lactation kink

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