Jerome Valeska One Shots

Plaything

writer ; jeromevaleska on ao3

It's a cold and quiet night in your room.

You were laying on your bed, trying your best to stay warm. You pulled your comforter more tightly around yourself. The mid-January frost seeps in through your opened windows, the cold air brushing against your skin. You've been laying here for what seems to be ages. You debate rising from your cocoon to make some coffee to warm your bones, but figure it's not worth getting up. A sigh escapes your lips, and you're surprised to find that it doesn't come out in cloud form. You decide there's one thing you can do that doesn't involve getting up.

The more you thought about it, the more promising it sounded. A finger lazily runs circles over your stomach and you feel your skin prickle beneath your fingertip. Your legs widen slightly and your hand slowly begins to trail down to your waistband, toying with it idly. Low anticipatory heat settles in the pit of your abdomen, licking out across your skin. You slip your hand past the elastic barrier, and you hiss softly at the touch of the chilled digits.

You revel in this discovery. The contrasting cold against your warm core elicits a shiver across your body. You slide in one curious finger experimentally and stifle a gasp against the back of your other hand. Your eyes clamp shut, brows furrowed. You add another finger, then another, and your mind starts to wander, fading in your fevered state. Your pace quickens, and the room suddenly feels much warmer.

You're sure it's a poor imitation, but you're starting to imagine what it feels like to be taken by the ginger maniac that was all over the news, it was a strange thing to fantasize about considering the circumstances, but he piqued your interest.

You kicked the comforter down to your ankles, knees bent. Your hands are determined, and his name slips freely from your lips.

A chuckle strikes you from your blissful state. Eyes flying open, you scramble to cover yourself, disoriented. You catch the ginger reclining on your window sill with a wide grin on his face.

"Don't let my presence stop you, dollface. Go on, please continue." he urged.

Your mouth is hanging open, you floundered for words, "What, how are you---"

You hug the blanket close to your body, trying to hide your flushed face and embarrassment, completely bewildered.

Your visitor straightens, the edge of his lips turning upwards. "You know, I come by here all the time, watching you. How could I not? When you sound oh-so cute, especially when you moan my name." he whispered. "You're a loud one, wake the neighbors often?" he added with a cackle.

Your eyes are widened, you're surprised that your fire-hot face hasn't burned through the sheet yet. At your flustered stammering, he hushes you with a wave of his finger, and quietly paces to your bedside. You lean away instinctively.

He catches your chin between his fingers gently. "You've been unaware of my watching you, studying you. But tonight," he trails off, his eyes are enthralling, and you're stunned unto stillness, "That's all going to change." he murmured, his grin broadening.

"You've been watching me, like stalking me?" you asked, your body quivering as you held onto the blanket.

"I wouldn't call it stalking, doll, more like observing from afar." he inches closer to you, his hands planted on the bed.

"How long have you been coming here?" you stuttered, your face heating up even more as he kept his eyes fixed on yours.

"Oh don't act so coy, there's no harm in stopping by once in a while is there?" he raised an eyebrow, he leans in so close that his breath is chasing yours.