#THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING A FIC LIKE THIS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wh1msic4lwasab1 · 2 days ago

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⁺‧₊˚ ཐི His⋆♱⋆Affliction ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

snyopsis: The vampire Alucard finds an injured traveler at his doorsteps, and nurses her back to health. Though what happens during your recovery is woefully unexpected, but intrinsically welcomed.

tags: porn w/plot (rare for me lmao), he fell first but you fall harder type trope, yearning, pining, slow burn (i tried), passionate, penetration, cunnalingus, cum eating, fingering, hair pulling, marking, biting, bloodletting, creampie, praise, usuage of “darling”, “dear”, “da draga mea” (“yes my dear” in romanian). L bomb gets dropped bc yk what, hell yeah?, pathetic alucard bc absolutely yes

word count: 11.5k wowza

a/n: a true passion project i love you alucard THANK YOU @cosmicporos for helping me with ideas for this fic mwah and also @eridanusco for informally requesting LMAO. Also sorry i dont know how to end fics pls let me live guys pls i tried :(

(click the title for a playlist! I listened to it a billion times when writing this)

Sounds of a distance neigh grew closer and closer to the ear of the blonde dhampir- who sat desolate inside cold walls. Your loyal steed, galloped you to the tall castle doors, pacing back and forth, whining for attention until The Alucard finally came down and took your lumbering body inside, and your horse to the stable of course, he’s not a monster…as much as he beleive so.

After what seemed to feel like a coma, you open your eyes to the stinging rays of sunlight that pass your eyelids; Waking up to a room unfamiliar and a man even moreso.

Alucard sat in a wooden chair that smelled of the same cedar he tended the fire with.

As the scent and the sight hit your senses, you rustled up and back into the corner of the walls in a hurried panic.

Alucard's eyes widened a bit, surprised by your wake. He gently placed his occupying book down and slowly got up from the chair, holding his hands up as if to show you he meant no harm.

"Easy, easy now...calm down. You're safe."

“Who the hell are you-“ you question in fright at his fanged teeth.

He gave a slight frown, eyes shifting a bit as he studied you.

“This is my home, your wounds…you’ve been here just short of a day.”

He explained, keeping his distance to not further frighten you- pointing to your abdomen.

“You're- a vampire?!!”

He chuckled slightly, not amused by the fear in your eyes but understanding your reaction”

"Half vampire, actually” He went on, “But I mean you no harm, you have my word."

“You could be lying”.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of irritation in his voice at the accusation

"You'll have to trust me on that, won't you? If I wanted to hurt you, I could've done so long ago. You were passed out and bleeding on your horse's back."

Realization hit you, his arms crossing over his chest as you stay silent in protest.

"You were quite injured, I patched you up the best I could and kept you in this room to rest. Please allow me to heal you back to health completely.”

You stay in the corner of the bed with your hands clutched onto the thick fur blanket. You give him a nod, accepting his proposal, although reluctantly.

He nods back, sensing the fear and uncertainty radiating off of you but appreciative that you aren’t too stubborn.

"It would've been wrong to leave you to bleed out in the woods." He said, slowing returning to the fire and book.

“I didn’t know vampires had morality.” You retort, slipping out of your mouth without much thought.

He but only chuckles, you can almost hear his smile as he speaks, low and soft.

“I’ve had my share of…distasteful humans. But your horse made a good case for you, you know.”

You have to almost stop a smile- becoming more comfortable by the second with his seeming civility.

Not too comfortable, though, feeling the bandages around your waist.

He looks back and sees you touching them through your shirt.

“Can I see them?” He asks, walking closer to you now with a voice of concern.

You nod.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, being careful not to touch you unnecessarily, reaching out and gently unwrapping the bandages, his movements slow and deliberate as he revealed the wounds beneath.

You wince slightly at the cool air hitting your broken skin, your stomach flexing inwards and your lungs expanding.

He pauses for a moment as you flinch, his eyes flicking up to your face.

"I'm sorry, I'll be gentle," he says softly before continuing to unwrap the bandages, revealing the cuts and gashes on your body. His expression hardened again as he took in the extent of your injuries, his fingers tracing lightly over the wounds, gentle and steady.

“How do they feel?” He asks, taking all the bandages off and reaching to the nightstand for more.

“Fine” You reply.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright? I can sense your emotions, you know. And you're not very good at hiding them."

You feel your brows contort into irritation, you dont even know what for- maybe your innate distrust.

"What, you're mad that I can read you so easily?" He replied with a smile, enjoying your annoyed expression a little more than he thought.

“It's a bit annoying…” You say, raising your brows, with a sprinkle of sass.

He smirked again, his lips playful.

"Well, I'm sorry if it's annoying. But you're quite expressive. It's hard not to notice when you look like that.”

“Like what-?” You retort.

“That.” He replies quickly, making you swallow your words.

You watch as he redresses your wounds, taking his time to wrap the bandages around your waist and stomach.

You take that time to look at his face more carefully than before- being this close to a vampire wasn’t something you think you’d live long enough to be able to observe like this.

You noticed his light amber hair, his yellow eyes and long lashes that gave him an epicene charm. You couldn’t keep your curious eyes from wandering over his features, he smelled like oud and iron.

When he was done, you looked out toward the open window, the sill swaying back and forth as the wind dance.

“How long will they take to heal?” You ask as you look back down at his hands.

"It depends. The wounds were quite severe, so it may take a while for them to fully close. The medicine should accelerate the healing process, but it's not instantaneous.”

“Okay- well, if it's fine i'll return to my town then by tomorrow.”

His expression shifted to surprise at your statement.

"You want to leave already? You're not fully healed yet, it's not safe for you to go back out there. They could open, get infection, you could get-“

“I don't wish to bother you any longer- you've already helped me enough.” You state. You’ve been quite wary about vampires- raised to practically believe they were spawns of hell itself.

He raised an eyebrow, his surprise quickly replaced by a hint of irritation

"Bother me? Nonsense. You're a guest in my home, and I don't intend to just let you wander off into danger when you're just as injured as when I found you.”

“It's still an inconvenience…”

He lets out an annoyed sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're insufferable, you know that?” It's not an inconvenience. You're my responsibility now, whether you like it or not.”

You let out an equally annoyed huff, but you don’t bother to object anymore, clearly stuck and indefensible.

“Fine”. You breathe out.

He gave you a firm nod, satisfied that you had agreed to stay.

"Good. You'll stay here until you're fully healed. I won't have you running off and getting yourself killed out there."

He watched you as you settled back into bed, his expression softening slightly

"I'll be back to check on you later. Try not to do anything reckless while I'm gone." He says, walking out the door.

“Wait!” You shout.

He pauses in the doorway, turning to look at you.

"Yes?"

“What’s your name?”

“Alucard”, is what you hear before the shut of the door.

You hear his descending footsteps on the floor of the castle, plopping your head back into the goosefeather pillows as you stared at the brick ceiling, trying to get comfortable again, as much as you could considering your circumstance.

Hours had passed, and sleep didn’t miss you on its way.

Alucard had come back to your room, opening it after not hearing any confirmation at his soft knocks.

He saw your sleeping state and moved quietly as to make sure sure not to disturb you, scanning over your form, taking note of your condition and whether you were in any pain or discomfort even if your unconsciousness.

He leaned over and placed a hand on your forehead, checking for a fever or sweats.

After making his observations, his eyes lingered on your hair, fingers carefully brushing against a few strands as he withdraws his hand.

He found himself captivated by the color and texture, a hint of curiosity flickering within as the sunlight filtered through the window and casted a warm glow over your skin, the smooth contours of your face and neck.

He looked at your physiognomy in almost jealously, envious of your humanness. The feeling of your warm skin coursing with blood that hadn’t yet gone through the process of death. He brushed his knuckle softly against your cheekbone but quickly removed it once he felt you slowly stir away.

You crack your eyes open and flutter your flashes as the setting sun pokes at your lids again.

“Is it evening already?”

He nods, his voice low and quiet, walking around the corners of the room to light the candles scattered around to offer some light before the moons arrival.

"Yes, it's getting late. You've been asleep for quite a while."

You let out a long drawn yawn and attempt to sit up near the headboard.

He watches, eyes tracking your every move. He can see the pain and stiffness in your movements, a pang of guilt tugging at him for not being able to do anything for you in that moment.

"Careful," he murmurs, voice taint with concern. "You're still injured, remember? You shouldn't be sitting up yet. Let your body heal."

“I can't just sleep all day.”

"Yes, you can”…He continues, trying to push through without the conversation. “You're still recovering. You need to take it easy and let your body heal itself. Sleeping is the best way to do that." He crosses his arms over his chest, a hint of frustration in his voice over your seemingly unmovable persistence.

You frown at his scolding, crossing your arms back.

"What's with the pout? You look like a petulant child."

You scoff, leaning your head back and mouth slightly agape.

“That's rude...”

He chuckles, a smirk growing at your response.

"Is it? I was merely stating the truth.

You're acting like a spoiled brat who doesn't want to listen to their caretaker."

“I'm just tired of sleeping so much...”

“Well I can’t just let you run around and frolick can I?”

You pout again, knowing he’s right but not wanting to agree out of…pettiness.

He shakes his head and sighs, “Stay here, I’ll bring you some food”.

“Yeah sure i’ll stay! No problem Doctor!” You say with fringed enthusiasm. “Can’t really go run and frolick can I…?” You mumble after.

“I heard that.” He says as he walks out, making you chuckle a bit.

As you wait, your stomach growls even more, wondering what kind of food you’ll be given. With all the wealth and luxury displayed in just the small portion of the castle you’ve been limited to witness- you had set your expectations high….unfortunately.

He comes back not more than an hour or so later- hair tied up in a low messy bun and what seems to be flour on his pants.

You see Alucard bring in a tray of a small loaf of bread and a bowl of what smelled like plain chicken stock, small floating pieces of carrot.

He sits down next to the bed, putting the tray on the edge of the bed before helping you sit up just a bit so you could eat.

You look at him and then the food- the silence and your inactive made him scoff.

“Are you hands broken all of a sudden? Do you need me to feed you?” He says bluntly, raising his brows in disbelief of your shamelessness.

You gave him a shrug and innocent expression smile- but he lets himself fall to your poorly executed manipulation.

He tears a piece of the what you can only imagine is some kind of buckwheat bun, as he dips it into the plain soup.

“Fattening me up so you can eat me?” You say as the soup soaked bread moves closer to your mouth.

He rolls his eyes and holds it closer to you to take a bite.

Before you open your mouth to accept the bread, you catch a wiff of the smell and…your head tilts away swiftly.

“Oh gods- you don’t even need to fatten me that’s gonna kill me first!” You say as you shake your head.

“What? Stop being dramatic. It’s just bread, here” He says, tilting your head back toward his face and the bread.

“Where did you get that? Did my horse produce it?!”

Alucard furrows his brows and scoffs.

“I made this…it took a while by the way.”

Your eyes widen- not knowing if you should be surprised and touched that he attempted to make you food or if you should be alarmed at how horribly it went.

“Oh…”

He sighs, “Is it really that bad..? What do you humans even eat besides bread and beer?”

You scoot back a bit, creating a good distance away from the bread.

“Is this- just chicken stock?” You ask, trying to find any kind of compliment to give him.

He looks at you deadpanned, and you have to stifle a smile.

“I should have gave that carrot to the damn horse…” He mumbled before getting up to leave with the tray.

“Wait wait!” You laugh as you protested, waving your arms back up to urge him to stay.

“I’ll try it…since you went out of your way.”

He sighs, giving you another chance and placing the tray back on your lap.

You have to gather more courage than you might have ever before- taking the same piece of bread he tore and counting your blessing before putting it into your mouth.

Truthfully- the chicken stock made it somewhat bearable, masking the stale like gummy texture of the bread…and swallowing it before it could bother you too much.

Alucard watched at the bedpost, arms crossed as he observed your expression.

You look up at him after the first bite, tilting your head back and forth and twisting your arm to try and say it wasn’t too aweful.

He lets outs a chuckle and sits back down on the chair; occupying his earlier read as he waits for you to finish your meal.

As soon as you’re finished, he glances at the empty bowl and plate, a hint of relief in his eyes

"You ate everything, good. It's important to keep your strength up while you're recovering."

You simply nod, not wishing you further frustrate him over his cooking inability.

"Get some rest now. You need it."

He takes the tray and turns to leave, but once again hesitates at the door, as if his body screams at him to stay longer than needed.

Looking back at you; his eyes roaming over your face as if committing it to memory.

“I never got your name, now that I think about it. I think I’d like to know what to address you as.”

You hesitate for a moment- but it’s the least you could offer, formality wise.

“Y/n.” You respond.

He replies in almost a whisper.

"Goodnight, Y/n." He smiles.

He won’t be going to bed anytime soon but he hopes your rest is committed.

“Goodnight, Alucard.”

Again is the shut of the door, and you know you won’t see him again til the next morning.

After he leaves the room, he stand in the hallway for a moment, lost in thought- he feels a heaviness in his chest at the sound of his name on your lips. It’s been a long time since anyone has said his name at all- nor with as much tenderness and void of disdain as the way in which you spoke it.

The next day comes, much like the last in its configuration, just as the next few would likely follow.

Alucard comes in and moves quietly around, tending to the small fire in the hearth and tidying up a bit around your room; keeping his movements soft and silent, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere while you sleep.

He notices the moment you start to stir, his eyes flickering towards your sleeping figure on the bed. He watches you wake, and a hint of a smile plays at the corners of his lips as he watches you blink sleepily.

“Goodmorning”, you hear from the vampire, chuckling as he sees you stretch. “Sleep well?”.

You reply with a nod, yawning greatly before giving him a “Mhm”.

He feels a sense of relief wash over him, glad that you were able to get some restful sleep. Moving closer to the bed, his eyes scan over you for any signs of discomfort.

"That's good to hear. How are you feeling? Any pain?"

You shake my head, truthfully feeling much lighter than the previous day. You sit up so you can present your wounds to him.

He nods in approval, satisfied assurance while he steps closer to the bed until he sits on the edge, gently reaching out to examine your wounds, his fingers lightly brushing over the bandages that cover your injuries and unwrapping you.

"They're healing well. You're lucky you didn't sustain any serious damage."

He relays, his palms trailing down your sides as he tries to feel for any swelling, and you seem to find your throat a bit dry.

He can hear you gulp, and he reluctantly pulls his hands away and starts to wrap you with new bandages, rolling your shirt back down.

“Thank you”, you reply, trying to fill the empty space between you two, even if it’s just verbal.

He pauses for a moment, surprised by your words. He hadn't expected you to thank him, and the sincerity in your voice catches him off guard.

He clears his throat again, trying to maintain his demeanor.

"You don't need to thank me. I'm just doing what I can to ensure your recovery."

You smile and nod, impressed by his humbleness.

“Do you think, I can go outside now?

Maybe for a walk.” You ask.

He hesitates, considering your request. Youve been confined to the room for almost a week now, and the thought of you getting some sun wasn’t the worst.

"Hm...I suppose it would be good for you to get some fresh air. But only for a little while. You're still recovering, so you shouldn't push yourself too much."

You smile even wider, glad that he wasn’t cruel or unreasonable.

“Thank you, will you join me?” You offer.

He feels his brows contort with confusion, but he can't help the small smile that follows.

"Me? You want me to go with you?"

“Well i've never been to this part of the country- i’m not so used to it.

He chuckles softly, finding your naiveté endearing

"I see. Very well, I'll accompany you on your walk." He replies, coming back to the edge of the bed and helping you up, putting out his forearm for you to hold yourself up with- making sure you don't stumble or fall.

"Take it slow. You might be a bit unsteady at first."

You hold on tight, feeling your limbs finally stretch out after hours of laying down with not much breaks.

He watches you carefully, his eyes following your every move. He notices the warmth of your hands on his arm, gripping and clinging to him so tight, and the closeness of your body sends a current through his body- and he finds himself putting a bit more effort into trying to push down the strange feelings that are bubbling up inside him, because of you.

"Easy there. Don't push yourself too hard."

Once he makes note of your posture, he slowly releases your arm, though keeping a hand hovering nearby, just in case you need support.

“Do you happen to have any clothes?” You ask, wanting to get into something more fresh compared to your tattered and messy clothing.

"Yes, I think I do. Stay here.” He says, quickly moving out of the room to retrieve them and arriving again only minutes later with a neatly folded stack of garments in his arms.

He hands them to you, his eyes flickering over your figure as he does so.

"These should fit you. Let me know if they don't."

You take the small pile with both hands and go to the washroom of your familiar room to change.

Alucard waited patiently outside the door, his mind racing as he imaged you changing inside- hearing the rustling of fabric and wanting to ask if you needed help but he didn’t want to overstep- didn’t want to make you suspect anything more of it all.

Desperately he tried to push the thoughts down into the back of his head, but they keep creeping up, making his heart race and his palms sweat a bit.

When you emerged back out in the clothes he gave you, his eyes almost widened, a faint melancholy in his gaze.

“What…you look like you want to say something.” You ask.

He looks back into your eyes as he’s snapped out of his thoughts.

“Sorry- sorry…no you look fine. It’s just that” He rambled on, “The clothes belonged to my mother, they suite you.”

Your brows rise at the information and your stomach drops a bit- feeling sorrow for him in his dark undertones. But you stay silent.

“Alright”, he continues, draping a red scarf around your neck.

“Keep this on, it’s cold in the mornings.” He says as he pulls your hair up from the scarf and lays it behind your shoulders, fingers brushing your ears slightly as he stands much closer now.

You only nod, allowing him to open the door and lead you out of the room for the first time.

When you step out of your enclosure of a room, you feel the smooth velvet carpet rolling out into the deep hallways of the ancient castle, soothing the soles of your bare feet as you walk alongside Alucard, looking around at the ceilings and the fixtures that adorn the home.

He watches as you take in the grandeur of the castle, a hint of pride in his eyes. He’s lived here for so long, but he sometimes forgets how impressive it must look to outsiders

"It's a bit much, I know. But it's been in my family for generations."

“No, it’s beautiful. Really.” You assure, taking everything in as you finally get to explore the place you’ve been locked up in.

He smiles again at your words, feeling a small swell of warmth in his chest. Expecting you like most people to be intimidated or scared by the castle's size and antiquity, but he can tell you seem genuinely impressed by it.

"Thank you. My father, Dracula, had it built many years ago. He desired opulence." He says with cadence.

As he explains more of the building’s interior, you both finally reach a exit. You can hear the chirping of birds and the wind on the other side as if a portal to an unexplored grove were near.

Alucard pushes the heavy doors open, revealing the sprawling gardens outside. The morning sun is casting a warm golden glow over the landscape.

The gardens- a riot of color, with blooming flowers and lush greenery filling every inch of space.

He watched as you step out into the grass. He can't help but find the sight of you barefoot in the garden endearing, your toes sinking into the soft earth as you breathe in the sweet spring air.

You open your eyes and look up, appreciating the sky from below opposed to the window from a distance as to which you were forced to do for the past few days.

Alucard, though, doesn’t follow your gaze. He instead can't help but admire the way the sun catches in your hair, and on your skin, making you look like you're glowing. A second, much more beautiful sun.

He finds himself staring for a moment, mesmerized by your beauty.

He also notices the way you hold the shawl closer to your body, and he wonders if you're cold or if there's something else you're trying to hide. He tries to resist the urge to reach out and brush a stray strand of hair out of your face again, wanting to feel just an atom of your being, as if to merge them with his.

He step closer, concern etched on his face

"Are you cold?"

You look back at him, your brows contorted and a soft look of vulnerability on your face.

“A little”, you admit.

He sees the goosebumps emerged on your soft and sunkissed skin, and he frowns slightly.

He takes the coat off his back, and drapes it over your shoulders

"Here, this should help." He says as he pulls you closer to him, your shoulders rubbing up as he keeps the draped jacket close around you, a bit too big but enough to warm you.

You give him an appreciative smile, and he returns one right back.

He watches you return your eyes back on the scenery, his gaze softening as he sees the way you admire the beauty of the world around you.

He’s seen this view countless times before, smelled the same air and felt the same breeze pass him by. But somehow, it seems more vibrant with you here with him now.

“Would you like to go back inside now?” You ask.

He shakes his head, not wanting the moment to end just yet.

"Not yet. Let's stay out here a little longer. Is that okay?” He asks softly.

You nod, happy that he’s willing to indulge you in just a bit more time outside.

You can’t help but feel his eyes glancing to you every now and then- and you try to ignore the urge to get closer to him.

Not for warmth, or because of the cold, or anything other than the flickering need to be closer to him.

Something entirely separate, something entirely unfamiliar.

After another few minutes, you two decide to come back inside to prevent any possibility of you catching a cold.

Alucard shows you a few more hallways and rooms along the way, pointing them onto and providing a little history lesson every now and then, not wanting to bombard you with his entire lifetimes worth of stories. When you arrive back at your room, he watches you settle back into the bed. A strange mix of emotions swirling within him. he wants to stay with you, but he knows he should give you some space.

He lingers in the doorway for a moment before speaking up again.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'll be around."

You smile and nod, “Thank you”. You whisper.

“Of course. I'll be in the library if you need me." He hesitates for a moment, as if he wants to say something more, but then he turns and walks away, leaving you alone in the room, leaving the door open this time- as if inviting you to join him.

Maybe you’re just thinking too much into it.

As he sits down on the wooden library chairs, trying to concentrate on the book in his hand and the ink that sticks to his quill, his thoughts keep drifting back to you, wondering what you're doing in your room and if you're comfortable.

He can't shake the feeling that he's being drawn to you like a moth to a flame- in an inseparable trap he set himself. His affliction.

Lost in his own mind, he snaps out of it as he hears a knock at the library door. He looks up, setting his book down to calls out.

"Come in."

You hear his command, opening the tall doors and peaking your head in to find him.

He looks up as you enter the space, his eyes widening slightly as you approach closer and walk down the sparse steps- secretly trying to hide the fact that he was thinking about you just seconds ago.

"Ah, I wasn't expecting you so soon.

Is everything alright?" He asks, feeling his heart suddenly accelerate.

“Yeah, sorry” You reply, handing him back his jacket, “you just forgot this”.

As he takes the jacket from you, his finger brushing against yours for a brief moment that he curses himself for not keeping it a second longer.

He looks at it for a moment before looking back at you.

"Ah, thank you. I didn't realize I had left it behind." He says in a more hoarse tone than usual.

You chuckle and nod, “I also didn't realize.” You say in a lighthearted tone.

He chuckles softly in return, his eyes locked on yours- Acutely aware of the way your scent fills the air around him, intoxicating him with its sweetness.

"I suppose I was too distracted this morning to notice."

He finds it harder and harder to resist the urge to reach out to you, to pull you closer to him with each growing second.

You break the short lapse of silence, your eyes trailing down to the desk full of books and sheets of freshly inked script.

“Reading?”

He also glances at the books on the table, trying to compose himself.

"Ah, yes. I was just doing some light reading. and annotation. Trying to take my mind off things." He says before looking back at you, his gaze lingering on your face. H can feel the tension between you growing, the air heavy with unspoken words and emotions

“What, uhm- kind of things?” You ask, immediately feeling as if you overstepped.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should be honest with you. but he can't bring himself to lie.

"You." He speaks.

You nod, understanding as you touch your wound on your side- Assuming he’s referring to your injuries, knowing how much he cares to treat you. Pushing away the initial thoughts of affection, not wanting to get your hopes up.

He nods, a small sigh escaping his lips. He conflicts with himself- wanting to tell you every preoccupied thought he’s had of you since the moment he found you on the back of his horse.

"Yes, that. And other things." He slips in quietly.

“You should rest, you’re not well enough to be up for so long.” He says a bit more sternly.

You furrow your brows a bit in unease, wishing he elaborated.

“Right.” You respond plainly.

He sees the disappointment in your eyes and immediately regrets his words. He didn't mean to push you away, but he's afraid of letting his guard down, of getting too close to you.

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated with himself

"I just... I don't want you to overexert yourself."

“It’s fine-“ You reply quickly, not wanting to invest more emotional energy into the exchange, exiting the library and walking back to your room, each step heavy and unrelenting as if your body rejects being away from him.

He watches your back as you leave, his heart sinking at the sound of your steps descending in volume. He wants to call out to you, to tell you to stay, but the words stick in his throat like a lozenge.

He sits there for a moment, frozen in place, before cursing himself under his breath. He knows he's messed up, but he's not sure how to fix it just yet.

Alucard remains in the library, pacing back and forth restlessly, still. He can't focus on anything, his mind consumed by thoughts of you.

He curses himself for being so awkward and aloof, for not being able to express his feelings properly even if they aren’t all fleshed out and appropriate.

He wants to follow you, to make things right, but he's afraid of what might happen if he does. So he stays in the library, brooding and frustrated, feeling more alone than ever.

You on the other hand, stay cooped up in your room. Equally frustrated- pacing around the bed unaware of how similar you both seem to cope.

You stay until the sun sets, wondering if he’ll show anytime soon to check up on you like he has been- angrily ruffled into the bedsheets as you almost wish you never went to the library, wishing you just left it at the peaceful garden walk from this morning.

“Fuck it?” You think to yourself, just go. “Just get up…walk over to him and figure it out? Right?” What even is there to figure, maybe, you were just overthinking.

You put your hand on the doorknob, resting before you swing it open.

As you prepare to take the first step out your eyes widen at the sight of him right infront of you with his hand raised.

He freezes in his tracks, surprised to see you standing in the doorway. He hadn't expected you to open the door just as he was about to knock, and his face looking more pale than before, somehow.

He looks at you, heart racing as he takes in the sight- feeling a mix of relief and nervousness, unsure of what to say or do next.

“…Hi.” You break the silence.

He swallows hard, his palms feeling clammy. He forces himself to speak, his voice sounding hoarse and awkward

"Hey. I was just coming to check on you." He drew on.

“I was also going to find you.” You confess.

He raises an eyebrow, surprised by your words. He hadn't expected you to be looking for him as well, his hopes rocking up.”

"Were you?"

“Yeah well- it's evening so I figured you'd want to check up on me again.” You sidetrack, dancing around the idea of anything else.

He nods, feeling a pang of guilt.

He had been avoiding you all day, and yet here you were, still thinking about him and his routine. Sure, he was too, but he hated the idea of burdening you with such heavy feelings in his care.

"Right, of course. I should've been more on top of it."

You nod, letting him into the room as you go to sit down on the bed as he follows you, his heart pounding in his chest. Why?

He can feel a tension between you two, one that’s been bubbling and thickening like a witches brew.

He tries to focus on the task at hand, but his mind keeps drifting to other things as he approaches you, his hand trying not to linger too long- prudent in his action.

He keeps his gaze clinical as he examines the wounds, rolling your shirt up and unwrapping the bandaged, but it's hard not to notice the softness of your skin beneath his fingers.

He gently touches the edges of the scars, his touch cautious as he checks for any signs of infection or irritation.

He’s aware of how close he is to you, how intimate the situation is, how for the past few days that he’s tried to ignore- scared of pushing himself onto you in any way.

He can feel the heat radiating off your body, and it's making it difficult for him to concentrate as he can see you watching him.

He glances up at you, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment.

“You look worried....”

He looks up at you again, his expression serious.

"It's just... the scars are still a bit red. I'm worried about infection."

You nod, your expression also turning more stone.

He frowns, his fingers tracing the edges of the scars lightly.

"I'll have to keep a closer eye on them. Make sure they don't get worse."

You nod, wincing slightly as he touches them.

He immediately stops touching the scars, his expression softening.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He whispers.

“It's okay- it just stings a little”. You assure.

But he still feels a pang of guilt at the thought of causing you pain, even if it was accidental.

"I'll try to be more careful. I just want to make sure they're healing properly." He goes on, feeling himself open up more- wanting to tell you just how much he cares.

He wraps you back up in new dressing, rolling your shirt down again and leaning down toward you.

“Hold onto me, I’ll help you up.” He says softly, putting his arms around your back as you wrap yours around the back of his neck, holding into him for support as he helps you up onto your feet without too much trouble.

For just a moment your chests press up- but soon letting go.

Alucard steps back, not wanting to cross any lines- but gods is his mind absolute chaos right now.

The feeling of your body closer than it’s ever been- the feeling of almost embracing you was too much for him to handle.

You clear your throat, leaning back against the bedpost, “Earlier today...in the library...”, you go on.

He perks back up, “Yes? What about it?”

“I'm sorry if i seemed too insistent, you probably wanted to be alone”…

He shakes his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Don't apologize. You didn't seem insistent at all. If anything, I found your curiosity endearing."

He sends you a smile, a softer look.

"And I must admit, it was nice to have some company in the library for once. I've been alone for so long that l've almost forgotten what it's like to talk to someone…”

You smile back, “Me too.”

He returns your easygoingness, “You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?"

“I'm not, it's making me feel better too.”

He chuckles, a bit deeper this time.

"I see. So you're not just a beautiful woman with a sharp mind, you're also honest."

“I hope to be”, you reply wittingly.

“Honesty is a rare quality, you know.

Most people will say anything to get what they want, or to avoid hurting your feelings. But you... you seem to speak your mind without a second thought…Especially about my bread.”

You roll your eyes place and scoff, “I’ll never hear the end of it from you.”

“I’m still hurt.” He says, feigning offense.

The two of you exchange a few more pleasantries, both reveling in the fact that your issues from earlier have been mended and quickly forgotten. Thankfully.

Alucard glances out the window, seeing the darkness of the night outside and hearing your yawn.

"It's late. You should probably get some rest, as much as I wish to keep talking.” He adds on quickly.

You nod, opening the door as he walks out into the doorway.

“Goodnight, dear.” He says politely.

You respond with a kiss on his cheek, quick and gentle.

“Goodnight.” You say with a soft smile, and and shut the door on his dumbfounded face.

He stands there for a moment, stunned by your unexpected kiss.

His hand comes up to touch the spot where your lips had been, a look of surprise and... something else on his face. He shakes his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips as he turns and walks away, heading to his own room and recalling the experience with every step. He tries to tell himself that it was just a polite gesture, nothing more, but he can't help the way his heart flutters at the thought of your lips on his skin. He knows any semblance of sleep won’t be easy- not after your stunt.

You sleep deeply through the night and into first light, unable to hear Alucard knocking at your door.

He knocks a second time, a tray of breakfast food in his hands.

Upon your lack of response, he enters the room quietly, his eyes immediately going to your bed to check on your condition- smiling softly as he sees you still asleep, setting the tray of food on a nearby table.

He walks over to the bed, his footsteps light and quiet so as not to wake you. It’s almost noon, and he wants to make sure you’re not feeling any sort of extreme exhaustion- considering the irregular surplus of sleep.

He continues to watch your face- finding himself getting used to the peaceful sight of your sleeping form.

But he notices a look of distress on your face, becoming concerned. He sits down on the edge of the bed, observing intently, his eyes narrowing as he realizes you're having a nightmare of some sort.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should wake you up, but the conviction on your face convinces him to act.

"Hey...wake up." He gently shakes your shoulder, trying to rouse you from your terrors.

He watches as you rise up in a jerked motion- breathe quick and heavy, pupils dilated and expression that of terror.

He places a comforting hand on your back.

"Shh... it's okay. You're safe now. It was just a dream." He says as he rubs your back in soothing circles, his touch gentle and reassuring. He looks at you with concern, his eyes filled with worry

"You were having a nightmare... do you want to talk about it?"

“I don’t really remember it-“ You say in a defeated tone, more annoyed than anything.

"Okay. But if you do, I'm here to listen."

“Thank you”, you say with a faint smile, his hand now on your shoulder.

"Of course.“ He glances over at the tray of food he brought in.

"I brought you some breakfast. You should eat something. It’ll take your mind off it perhaps?”

You take the tray appreciatively, nodding but still disoriented.

He notices the slight change in your expression. He tilts his head slightly, studying your face.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look a bit... dazed."

“Sorry- i'm just- still waking up”

He chuckles softly, amused by your sleepy state “It's alright. I understand."

He sits on the edge of the bed again, watching you pick up the food, satisfied that you're finally eating something.

He leans back against the headboard of the bed, content to just sit with you for a while.

"How are your wounds feeling today? Are they healing well?"

“Oh- yes I think so”, you say, putting the tray next to you and turning to face him, lifting your shirt up to let him examine them.

He runs his fingers gently over the healing cuts under your bandages, making sure they're not infected or still bleeding

"Good. They look like they're healing nicely. You'll probably be fully healed in a few more days."

“A few more days...alright”. You start to think to yourself, wondering what'll happen then- considering that you’ll have no need to stay here once you’re healthy.

He notices the look on your face, the slight furrow in your brow as you think to yourself. He lowers your shirt, his gaze fixed on you

"Is something wrong?”, he asks, getting closer to you as he tries to coax it out of you.

You simply shake your head.

He raises an eyebrow, not quite believing you. At all actually.

"You know you can tell me if something is bothering you, right?"

“I know…” You say, unconvincingly once again.

He reaches out and gently takes your hand in his, his touch gentle and comforting

"You can trust me, you know. I won't judge you. I swear it.” He says with a gentle expression.

“Yeah- yeah I know.” You say quickly, your face developing a rouge at his sudden act of affection. Or maybe it was just- care, a polite gesture of friendship.

You go back to eating your breakfast, slipping your hand out of his.

Even while enjoying your morning meal, your stomach is heavy with the residual feelings of your nightmare- frustration that you can’t seem to remember what made you feel so ill.

“Do you ever get nightmares?” You ask Alucard.

He looks to face you- a bit unprepared for your question but honest.

“At times, they seem more like recollections than fantasies of my mind.”

You furrow your brows, looking done at your food and playing around with it.

“I can’t remember what I was even dreaming about- but it’s a strange feeling.”

You go on, opening up about the discomfort of your body.

He frowns, feeling a mix of sympathy and concern for you. He pulls you closer to him, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could take it away from you."

You let out a surprised sound- hands hesitating to wrap around him.

He can feel your surprise, unrelenting. He holds you tightly against his chest, one hand gently stroking your hair

"It's okay," he murmurs softly.

"You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you. Alright?”

You feel your brows scrunch up and your body lighten- as if he’s shared some room in his body for you to lay your afflictions bare. To take some of the pain from you and lock it away in himself.

With contemplation- you hug him back.

He holds you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head

"That's it," he murmurs. "Just relax. Let me hold you."

His words soothe you like a balm, mending together pensive feelings of melancholy you weren’t even aware of before.

You feel warm tears roll down your cheeks, sniffling before he gently rocking you back and forth as he tries to soothe you

"Shhh, it's okay. Let it all out," he whispers, his voice filled with tenderness and compassion.

"I've got you," he continues.

You use every second to try and pull yourself up together- but he wraps around you close, holding you together as you fall apart in his arms.

He continues to whisper words of comfort, his voice low and soothing

"You're doing so well. Just keep breathing. In and out, that's it."

After a few minutes of much needed exhalations, you recover well in the vampires arms.

He feels a sense of relief wash over him as you relax against him. He gently tilts your chin up.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks gently, his hand still stroking your hair.

You let out a cathartic sigh, nodding.

He cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb gently brushing away the tears from your face

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. You had me worried for a moment there."

“Sorry...I guess I just haven't had someone hug me a long time.”

He shakes his head, his hand still cupping your cheek.

"You have nothing to apologize for.

And don't ever apologize for needing comfort. Everyone needs a hug sometimes."

As you calm yourself more, Alucard decides to give you some space to recollect yourself, clearly needing it.

“I’ll give you some space. I’ll be in the library, if you need anything.” He reminds, before bidding you a goodbye after making sure you ate.

You take deep inhales and deeper exhales, your mind ringing with his voice guiding you through breathes.

The room becomes quiet and dark, you're left alone with your thoughts. The memory of Alucard's touch and his warm smile are all you can think about, and you can't help but wonder what he's doing right now- deciding it’s better to find out for yourself than wonder.

Alucard looks up as you enter the library.

He sets down the book he was reading and smiles softly.

"Feeling better?" he asks.

You smile and nod, walking closer.

"Come here," he says, patting the chair next to him. "You can keep me company."

You gladly take a seat, eyes roaming over the various books and sheets covering the desk- similar to yesterday’s spreads.

He notices how close your face is to his work. He closes the book, gently tapping your forehead with it.

"You're going to give yourself a headache if you keep reading like that," he teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

You pout and rub your forehead.

“Rude…” You say in a whisper.

You scoot closer to get a better look at the writing, your elbows folding on top of the table.

As you observe the scripts, Alucard is more concerned with how beautiful you look- even when you’re concentrated, and he can't help but feel a pang of longing in his chest- quickly pushes those feelings aside, not wanting to ruin the moment with his own desires.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, noticing the pause of his writing and his gaze.

He blinks, realizing he's been caught staring. He quickly looks away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Ah, nothing," he says, trying to play it off as nonchalantly as possible.

"Just lost in thought for a moment."

You nod, going back to watching him work, putting your head on his shoulder with the close proximity.

He freezes for a moment, completely caught off guard by your sudden closeness. He can feel the warmth of your body against his, and the scent of your hair filling his senses.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure, but it's becoming increasingly difficult.

You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction.

He can feel your laughter vibrating through him, and it's a pleasant sensation.

"What's so funny, human?" he asks, playfully.

“Nothing, you've just….been on that page for a while. You can’t read can you? Tell me the truth.” You play around sarcastically.

He glances back down at the book, realizing that he's been staring at the same page for several minutes now, obviously at that.

He lets out a soft chuckle, embarrassed that he got so distracted by your presence once again, finding it to a troublesome, reoccurring issue.

"Ah, I guess I am a bit distracted," he admits, his gaze flickering back to you.

“No no it’s okay, lots of people can’t read you know. Don’t be embarrassed”, you continue with your nonsense joke.

You pretend to look around, your eyes going around left and right as he shakes his head.

He shuts the book, setting it aside and turning his full attention to you as he pushes it away.

He turns his body towards you.

"You're a distraction," he teases, poking your side gently.

“Hey!” You exclaim, “you invited me to sit here”, you digress, poking him back.

He chuckles and dips his finger in a small pool of ink, swiping it on your nose, making you backup a bit and give him more room for defense.

You gasp at the sudden cool touch of pigment- and run after him as he walks over quickly to the books nearby.

“This is not fair at all!” You exclaim, watching him dodge your attacks with ease.

“That seems like a personal issue, yes?” He says as he walks deeper into what seems like a maze of shelves.

As you get more and more competitive- you finally land a hit on him: a decently sized dab of ink landing on his cheek.

As it lands you run off- not wanting another hit of solvent somewhere on your face.

But of course…to your disadvantage, you can’t necessarily outrun a vampire.

Easily, he catches up to you- pinning you against the bookshelf. He stands over you, his body caging you in, as he holds up his finger- ready to mark you with another proof of failure.

"No escape now," he teases, his hand slowly and tauntingly smearing ink around your chin.

You roll your eyes and chuckle- the both of you breathless from the chase.

He can feel your small breathes mingle with his- noticing your chest pressed up against his.

He looks down at you, his eyes locking onto yours, and suddenly the playful atmosphere shifts into something more intense.

He rubs your bottom lip- except you don’t feel anymore ink rubbing into you, just the touch of his skin, his eyes glued to your supple lips as you look at his gaze.

“Alucard…?” You whisper softly.

He doesn’t look at you, eyes still glued to your flushed cheeks and the staggered breathe that escapes from your mouth.

“Hm?” He responds, finally flickering his eyes up to look at you.

“Yes dear?”

As your eyes lock, you feel a force that only pushes you to an immeasurable distance into him- and he responds immediately.

As if endless moments of pining finally meet its destiny- the kiss is tentative at first, a slow exploration of each other's mouths.

He takes his time, wanting to savor every moment of this, wanting to make sure that you're comfortable and enjoying it too.

Your arms wrap around each there- Alucards large frame pressing you into the bookcases behind you as his hands hold your sides- your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

He groans softly at your hands on him, your tongue meeting his in a heated dance. He's surprised by how easily you fall into rhythm with him, how well your bodies seem to fit together.

He revels in the sounds you're making, the way your body trembles against his. He descends his kisses to your cheek and then neck- feeling your pulse racing under his lips. He continues to kiss and nip at your neck, his fangs scraping gently against your skin as he moves down to your collarbone- the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin absolutely electric.

Your fingers grip slightly at his hair, running through them as he lavishes your shoulder with his sweet kisses.

Your body starts to arch into his touch. His hands on your sides tighten, holding you in place- his breath heavy as he starts to speak between kisses.

“Stop me…please, please stop me if you don’t want this…Stop me, I won’t be able to stop myself.” He pleads, kissing up to your ear as his other hand snakes up to hold the side of your neck, pulling his face to look at you again, his aureate eyes piercing into yours.

You let out deep breathes from your nose, swallowing the lumps in your throat as your half lidded eyes meet his, nodding just enough to assure him before diving back into his lips.

He groans again at the feeling of your lips, his grip on your thighs tightening. He presses his hips against yours, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your jawline and to your neck once more. He can't resist the urge to mark you, his teeth meeting kisses and sucks at the sensitive flesh.

“Alucard-“ You interrupt.

He growls against your neck, his teeth almost sinking into your skin just enough to leave a mark

"Yes, my dear?" he murmurs, his voice low and yearnful.

“You….can drink, if you want to.” You go on softly, seeing his eyes flicker with an immediate importance.

He lets out a shaky breath, his control hanging by a thread. He can feel his fangs lengthening, his body practically vibrating with need as he gulps.

"You shouldn’t say such things to a dhampir," he growls, his grip on your hips tightening almost painfully.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your pulse point once more.

He can feel your heart racing, the scent of your blood is enough for him to go mad- the sound of your blood that pumps through your veins sounding like the perfect symphony.

"Last chance to change your mind, y/n.” He murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

You shake your head, holding his chin and tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I want to feel it…feel you.”

Your words cause his self-control to shatter. He can't hold back any longer, the need to taste your blood overpowering everything else, any sense of responsibility or moral compass gone- your declaration of want is all it takes.

He sinks his fangs into your neck, a deep moan rumbling in his chest as the taste of your blood hits his tongue. You feel the two long needles puncture your skin smoothly- the pain quickly subsiding as you feel his lips plant themselves on your skin and his breathe blows kisses over your skin over and over- his chest puffing out as he gets closer and more greedy.

You felt his hands clutching at your waist as if his fingerprints could weld onto your skin like iron.

The pain and pleasure mingled, creating a heady cocktail that clouded your senses.

The room spun around you, the world narrowing to the sensations of his fangs in your skin and the blood leaving you and nourishing him, his heart pounding in sync with your own.

You felt his hardened length, insistent, pressing against your thigh, a silent testament to the desire coursing through him while the taste of your blood intoxicates him- the taste like ambrosia, all while he can feel your body trembling against his, can hear the sounds of pleasure falling from your lips.

He can smell your arousal, the scent driving him wild with desire. He drinks deeply, his tongue lapping at the puncture wounds on your neck to encourage the flow of blood.

His grip on you almost bruising as he grinds against you-feeling himself losing control, his body acting on pure instinct as he takes what he needs from you, as if you were providing him with life force.

He finally pulls back, his fangs leaving your neck as he looks at you- your blood on his lips staining them as if he devoured a mound of cherries.

You smear the droplet across the corner of his lip- the red hue replacing what was once ink, pressing your lips onto his.

He moans into the kiss, his tongue tangling with

He carries you over to the nearest surface, which just so happens to be the desk you were just at. He sets you down on it, his body pressing against yours as he continues to kiss you hungrily and messily.

He chuckles against your lips, enjoying the way you groan as he pushes the books off the desk to make space for you. He lifts your hips slightly, grinding his hardness against you through the layers of fabric between you- growling in approval as you open your legs for him, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he presses himself against you even more.

He nips at your collarbone, his lips trailing down to your chest as he begins to unbutton your shirt with deft fingers.

“May I?” He asks before completing removing it at your confirmation.

He pushes your shirt off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and leaving you exposed to him

"Gods, you're perfect," he murmurs, his hands moving to cup your breasts as he leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, your head tilting back as moans spills from your mouth- his tongue swirling around it before he gently nips at it with his teeth, the small remnants of your blood on his lips painting your chest in blotches.

His other hand moves to your other breast, his large hand almost completely covering it as he squeezes and kneads the soft flesh.

“Fuck-“ You groan, feeling his fingers tweaking at your sensitive buds while you feel him grinding even harder onto you his fingers trace patterns on your skin as he continues to worship your body.

Your fingers deftly unbutton his shirt, letting it fall open - his head perks back up to capture your lips once more.

Your hands trail down to his belt buckle.

He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your ear as he whispers

"Eager, are we?"

“Can you blame me…?”

"No," he murmurs. "Because I want you to be. I want you desperate and needy for me…burn for me, like I burn for you.” He groans against your ear, his hands trailing up the sides of your thighs and gripping your hips to toy with the hem of your skirt.

“Stay still”, he whispers, his voice much more playful now. “Let me check the rest of these wounds? Yes?” He mentions, slowly letting the tie of your skirt undo itself as he slides it down, humming in approval as you lift your hips for him.

His cold hands touch your bare skin and you almost flinch, but you welcome them.

“Draga mea…you’re stunning.” He groans, looking down to appreciate your skin under the moonlight seeping from the overhand windows of the library.

You feel the light seeping into your skin and more noticeably his hands becoming more

bold, more desperate, and daring. So are his kisses, descending down your neck to the valley of your breast, worshipping your skin as he kneels down to get on both knees while his face is met with your core- your cunt throbbing loud enough that his ears are sure to pick up on it.

He parts your thighs further, his hands gripping them tightly as he continues to kiss and nip at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He's close enough now that you can feel his hot breath on your aching core, but he's deliberately avoiding touching you where you need it most.

“Alucard…please-“

He looks back up at you, cutting you off before you can beg.

“Adrian. I need you to call me that now.” He says, placing a kiss on your core through the fabric.

“Okay?” He adds, waiting for you to nod before he slips the fabric off and finally darts his tongue out to tease the sensitive skin just above your clit, smirking into your folds when he heard your breathe hitch.

He moves his tongue down slightly, tracing around your clit.

He can see how wet you are, your arousal dripping down, tasting it.

He starts to lap at your clit, his tongue swirling around it in tight circles before dipping down to tease your entrance as your moans spill out, hand tangles in the his hair, gripping his golden strands and making him groan into you, eyes darting up to meet yours- lost in the taste and scent of you, completely consumed by the desire to make you feel good.

You feel your hands gripping tighter, the heavy cinch in your abdomen ready to snap.

Minutes that felt like hours of him reverently pleasing you- you tremble and gasp.

He doubles down his efforts, his tongue and lips working even harder to push you over the edge. He can tell you're close, your body trembling and your breath coming in short gasps

“Adrian- I’m-!” You whine, your legs loosening their clasps around his face as you cum on his tongue.

He groans loudly as you cum, his tongue eagerly lapping up every drop of your release. He doesn't stop, continuing to lick and suck at your sensitive flesh even as you ride out your orgasm.

He finally pulls back, his face wet with your juices as he looks up at you. “You’re so beautiful when you cum. I want to make you do it over, and over.” He said, rising up to his feet- resting his forehead against yours as he tries to catch his breath

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, his voice filled with raw emotion, lips brushing on your ear.

“What do I do to you?” You reply, pulling your head back to look up at him.

He gazes back down at you, his heart clenching at the sight of your innocent eyes. His hand cups your face, fingers tracing your supple face.

“You make me want things I never thought I could have. Things I don’t deserve." He admits, almost like confessing a sin to you, leaning in to kiss you again, pressing his lips against yours in a tender caress.

“I almost want to keep you here. Just for myself- look at how selfish you’ve made me, draga mea”. He speaks, a smooth accent painting his last words as he pecks kisses to your jaw, chuckling deeply as he feels your hands unbuckling his belt and letting it fall.

Both of your hands frantically pull at eachother- the innocent chuckles and soft kisses between the seconds it takes for him to undress and spread you apart- ready to give you the attention you need.

He positions himself at your entrance, his cock throbbing with anticipation. He looks into your eyes, his expression filled with desire and possessiveness

"Are you ready for me, love?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "Are you ready to feel me inside you?"

“Yes- please, need more Adrian.” You plead.

He slowly pushes in, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate thrust.

He looks down at you, his eyes locked on your face as he watches your expression

"Relax for me, love," he murmurs, his hands stroking your thighs gently. "Let me in."

You nod, breathing in and out softly as he helps you and reassures you with soft words and gentle caresses.

“You’re doing so well, keep going for me. Breathe…Fuck- just like that.”

He can feel your body relaxing around him, allowing him to slide in further with each slow glide of his hips.

When he finally bottoms out, he feels your walls clenching down on him- making him bite down on his one lil til it bleeds.

The same blood hits your lips over and over on an tangle of kisses, his pace getting faster and more intense as he starts to lose himself inside you- his heart beating in sync with yours as he fucks you on the desk that starts to creak now.

“Fuck- it's so...” You groan, your stomach pooling with the same feeling just moments ago.

"So what, love?" he asks, his voice rough. "Tell me. Tell me how it feels. Tell me everything.”

You whine softly- felling each thrust hammer into you even deeper as he urges you to speak.

“So...fucking good...” You admit, wholeheartedly.

He shudders at your words, his cock twitching inside you. He nips at your ear, his breath hot against your skin

"My perfect little human," he groans, his hands roaming over your body- your walls tightening hearing him whisper to you.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" he whispers again, his voice low and seductive. "Being told how perfect you are? Hm?”

You can’t reply even if you wanted to- and you most urgently did. Only whines and moans escape your lips.

He chuckles, his smirk widening as he sees the effect his words have on you

"You're such a good girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck. "So beautiful, so sweet. I wonder how many times I can make you cum tonight."

“So close- Adrian!”

He can feel your body trembling beneath him, your breathing ragged and uneven

“Come for me, darling” he whispers, his voice smooth and sickly sweetened. "I've got you. I'll take care of you."

You look up at him once more- your big pleading eyes grasping for a piece of his soul to gaze into.

Looking down at you again, his eyes meet yours. He's momentarily struck by the vulnerability and trust in your gaze, and it almost brings him to his knees completely.

"God, I love you," he whispers, his voice raw with emotion- almost as if he had no time to think before he spoke, as if it would change anything.

Your heart thumps, unable to tear your gaze away.

“A-Adrian-“ You moan out- his cock still pumping in and out of you and hitting every spot to make you cry out- ultimately making you spill all over him as you cum.

He lets out a shaky breathe feeling you release.

He’s never said those words out to anyone before, never dared to hope that he would ever feel this way at all.

He buries his face in your neck, his movements becoming more desperate as he clings to you, still going even as you’ve finished.

"Say it," he begs, his voice rough. "Please, say it. I need to hear it."

Your thighs twitch around his waist- overstimulated and sweaty, “love you…Adrian-! I love you…” You reply, clawing your nails at his back.

He groans into your neck, his own orgasm washing over him in a powerful wave.

"Oh, gods-" he gasps, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you. He holds you tightly, his body shaking, licking at the wounds he planted on your neck from earlier, wanting to taste the crimson of your being, just a little more.

As the blood draws, each drop hitting his senses, he knows he is binded tightly to a world he cannot live in without your presence. His Affliction.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

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marknee · 2 days ago

Text

bts fanfics i think shakespeare would enlist himself into the military just to show the boys.

chapter iv. ✷ chapter vi.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — he’s not really thinking about enlisting, is he?

( ♬ ) — what do you mean shakespeare shaved his head?.. oh no.

( ✎ ) — don’t military bases have security? how the hell did that man get inside?

( ♛ ) — he’s proper pulling a cross country right now. the boys look confused. and horrified.

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: dear readers, did you miss me? it’s been a while since i’ve shared my secret recommendations with you. but, since the two year anniversary of this special series has recently passed, i thought it was about time i spoiled you again. i’ve had quite a while to think about this one. so, i hope you’re ready. let’s give shakespeare something to enlist for.

( ♛ ) AMALTHEA — by @daechwitatamic

!! seokjin x reader | 40k !!

best friend’s older brother!au, smut (18+), fluff, angst.

bfb! bfb! my best friend’s brother, my friend’s brother! bfb! bfb! my best friend’s brother, my best friend’s brother!

this is one of the BEST seokjin fics i’ve ever read. straight to the point but there is no other way to put it. got to the point i would wake up earlier just to read another chapter before work. i was always present, bitch.

alike most of you, as someone who reads A LOT (re: i have no credentials for this, just my mum), i can tell when someone pours their every blood, sweat and tears (ha.) into writing. and for me, this is one of those writers.

this writer really shocked me at how much i connected to this story whilst reading n how attached i felt after finishing. caught me off guard, but so did death to shakespeare… sooo, what can i say.

“it’s been over a decade since that night, and you still don't know if he meant his family, or you.” dude i wish you could’ve seen my face. lmfao.

let’s just say there’s a reason this one’s first. amazed. truly.

( ♛ ) MOON MAGIC — by @jincherie

!! hoseok x reader | 33.8k !!

mermaid!au, pirate!au, fluff (like.. teeth rotting).

“and he calls me mooonlight toooooo,�� she sings into the empty crowd with tears in her eyes. she meaning me.

now i know i’m known for having a sweet tooth, but damn! youse are gonna eventually turn me into an elizabethan england commoner. y’know, the crap dental hygiene n all. (re: shakespeare’s teeth.)

but, you know me. i looooove a good ‘ol fantasy inspired fic, so i guess i’m willing to risk a little here. and this one was worth risking for.

slams hand onto the table. the world building! this writer was not playing around when it came to painting us a picture of the world they wanted to create. i wanna live in this fic i’m not joking. get me in touch with namjoon asap for some of that moon magic shit. ok, rolls credits.

perfect in every single way. this is my first run-in with this writer, but am i swimming (sorry.) my way over to their masterlist? yeeees.

“he laughs and tells you that, actually, it's probably the youngest three princes that are most beloved by all.”

yea girl. not on my watch. enjoy!

( ✎ ) ALL GROWN UP — by @btsgotjams27

!! jungkook x reader | 64k !!

friends to lovers, older woman/younger man, smut (18+).

the fact this fic was loosely inspired by one of my all-time comfort kdramas… i didn’t even have to question adding it to my list. it felt like i was watching it for the first time again… deeply sighs. ahhh the nostalgia…

i had this fic bookmarked on my ao3 for the looongest time, but it was only recently that i got round to actually reading it. and i’m so glad i did. bless her, she was waiting for her moment to shine. and it’s now.

youngest kids in the family please raise your hands! all in attendance! you are welcome and appreciated here. the feeling of desperation, trying to get people to see you as your current age rather than the little kid they’ll forever remember. i think that’s why i loved this fic so much: i could relate to it.

alike this story, most fics on here are on the older side of things. but honestly, if it’s good and genuine, it’ll last forever. no matter how much time has gone by. feelings stay - perhaps even grow?

the same for our adorable pair over here. could time play in their favour?

you let me know when you finish it.

( ✮ ) ALIVE AHA FXCK — by @softyoongiionly

!! vampire!yoongi x human!reader | 42k !!

vampire!au, smut (18+), soulmate!au (you know i had to), please read the trigger warnings.

devoured. no pun intended. though other vampire synonyms include but are not limited to: consumed, ate, guzzled, feasted etc… thank you google, after a few questionable internet searches.

i cannot tell you how glad i am that shakespeare never wrote about vampires. cuz he would’ve written my ass into that damn thing and killed me off from the things i’ve said about that guy. and the things i will continue to say…

i love this fic on a personal level. it reminds me of being fourteen again, curled up in my sheets as the sun reaches the tip of my windowsill and the morning chill settles in after a night of fighting sleep to finish a fanfic. it’s safe - i’m safe.

i genuinely had so much fun reading this story. the characterisation of both the reader and yoongi is so unhinged and playful and i’m obsessed. if i could recommend it to anyone, it would be my younger self cuz i know she’d love it :,). n she did!

y’know, sometimes you just gotta read a silly - infused with twilight puns - vampire-themed yoongi fic for the world to feel alright again.

and it did - for me. n now - for you.

( ♛ ) OLDER — by @lovieku

!! dilf!jk x inexperienced!reader | 18.2k !!

smut (18+), dilf!au, best friend’s father, age gap.

pure, undeniable and utter filth. in the best fuckin’ way possible. yea, if you could crawl into my mind, plunge into the inky depths of whatever lurks there.. this is what you’d find lying on the sand floor. unadulterated sin.

i am so disgustingly obsessed with this fic i can’t explain it, hence why it’s ended up on my shelf of recommendations. it scratches and pleases a deep, desperate itch in my brain. maybe it’s the age gap, who knows?

this writer has a talent for making us - or, me. - claw at something forbidden in an almost hungry advance. the sinner doing the sinning. and goddamn, i’m impressed. n i bet shakespeare is too. well, he fuckin’ better be.

the characters are imperfect and selfish and lustful, but oh my god i love them. add on dilf!jk with his slutty, unbuttoned shirts and you have me sold.

@lovieku you are such an amazing writer. you have such a way with how you express. do not underestimate that. i am beyond excited to see your future works :)

masterpiece. but what the fuck was that ending.

( ♛ ) HABITS OF A CLANDESTINE NATURE — by @alphabetboyluvr

!! college!jk x female!oc | 16k !!

rich!jk, waitress!oc, enemies to lovers, smut (18+).

he got, he got away! he got away! he got away! he’s got a way, he’s got a way! awayyyyheyeyyyyheyyy! yea, but didn’t manage to escape a 460-year-old poet, nor me.. so..

clementines, fruit trees, the sound of innocent laughter, wind chimes, a sheer blur of colour, soft hands. things that come to mind whenever i am reminded of this fic. a solid and beautiful depiction of hurt and love and everything in between.

this writer knew straight off the bat how to sell this pair to the audience. how to capture us and string us along for the journey of two hurting, longing and hurting all over again. shakespeare bought the hanging fruit that’s for damn sure… me too then, perhaps.

the vision for this story is perfect to me. i almost want to give the writer a kiss on the forehead.

i did write down one quote; used from the story. a way to sum it all up. “the perfect place to get lost. the perfect place to get found, too.”

if you’re looking for somewhere to get lost, i hope this satisfies that need. i also hope i come back to read this every once in a while. for old times sake. to get found again.

( ♬ ) GUILTY AS SIN — by @gldrushh

!! brother in law!jungkook x widow!reader | 32k !!

forbidden love!au, smut (18+), angst.

“it began to lose its meaning. healing. as if it were something—a destination you could stumble upon.” oh, don’t even talk to me. people died. shakepeare died. april 23rd 1616.

god, this story is just so raw in and of itself - perfectly depicting the human experience of love and loss. inevitable and sometimes unexpected. i was - n still remain - in awe.

i crossed by this fic unexpectedly and i’m so glad that whatever butterfly effect led me to finding this succeeded, but damn that action also had consequences… like real bad… haha….

i want to cry every time this fic crosses my mind. dramatic? lil bit. but when you read it, holy shit - this will make sense to you young’uns. in due time.

well, to be even more dramatic as such… my wounds from reading this are still fresh (i will sob don’t test me), so i hand the torch over to you to make of this story what you will.

please go into this fic with no expectations. go in willingly and just… fall into it. i will be on the other side when you resurface and i will definitely say something ironic.

like i told you so. xx.

( ♛ ) CALLING PRODUCER MIN YOONGI — by @bangtan-dreamland

!! yoongi x reader | 4.6k !!

strangers to lovers, just fluff all around.

now this is the bitch i aspire to be. dials random ass numbers of random ass strangers just to yap. oh yea, that’s my kinda girl. i just hope she knows she’s the coolest person ever to exist to me. i want to buy a star for her. a big, bright one.

i think i have said this before, but never ever underestimate the power of a drabble. a short fic of little can hold the weight of ten times that amount. especially this one (which i read that long ago but has ultimately ended up here - says it all tbh).

this fic is everything and more to me. i miss it when i’m not reading it, and i miss it when it’s right in front of me. it has me wanting to ring up random people in hopes of meeting my true love - which i won’t, but who knows what might happen?

also, to point out - the immense chemistry between these characters is off the charts. felt like i was intruding on my own phone call.

good dialogue? tick. amazing characterisation? tick. interesting plot? tick. has shakespeare wanting to never learn how to use a phone in case he puts this fic to shame? tick.

lol.

( ✎ ) THE LOVE PROGNOSIS — by @awrkive

!! surgeon!jk x surgeon!reader | 90.9k !!

roommates!au, medical!au, smut (18+), fluff.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh. aaaand scene!

can i be honest? y’all stress me the fuck out! and you know who you are! starts with ‘j’ ends with ‘k’. the other one being ‘s’ ends with ‘e’. but one of you i like more and it’s not you, shakespeare.

the time it took me to finish this insanely crafted three-parter was embarrassingly short. (i think i formed a dent in my bed). so when i finished i was - obviously - heartbroken, so i did what every sane person does. i read all the drabbles. aaaand the tlp social media extras. and listened to the playlist. and cried. duh.

whilst all the fics on here deserve their own kdrama, i feel this one would ruin me completely. it’s weightlifting fairy kim bok joo all over again. it’s potential is there. like, c’mon screenwriters. i know you want to. or just pay me to do it.

the characters, the yearning, the friendship - immediately gets flashbacks… - ten’s across the board!

@awrkive is one to look out for. for real. i - along with everyone else here - will be tuning in. full volume.

oh yea, whilst we’re all still here. fuck that other guy. you know who you are! (no spoilers here).

( ♛ ) LET’S GET QUIZZICAL — by @taleasnewastime

!! jimin x f!reader | 28.6k !!

friends to lovers, angst, smut (18+).

sooooo… what i’m hearing is.. we all weren’t aware flo rida’s stage name is just florida with a space..? right? right.? cuz when you say it like that..

having been a victim of multiple pub quizzes in my past (haven’t won - yet!) the dialogue in this story was fucking perfect and scary real, depicting the anxiety, thrill and pure adrenaline running through your body as you rack your brain of every dumb fact you’ve ever read and hope it’s made a home somewhere up there.

not to mention you gotta trust your teammates like your life depends on it - cuz it fuckin’ does. n park jimin being one of them? the rest of the teams… y’all better not even bother showing up atp.

i thought the manor of the story being told through its settings was.. a slice of genius. so so cool and helped set the tone too. every time we transported back to the quiz i clutched my pearls in sheer relief.

also, i wish i could’ve highlighted angst in bold cause damn! you really hit us round the head with that one. and ofc i loved it, but damn. take notes, shakespeare. we don’t have to be killing characters off to ruin mk’s life. hm?

nothing less than spectacular from our @taleasnewastime.

( ♬ ) TRICKS OF THE TRADE — by @stutterfly

!! yoongi x reader | 24.1k !!

body swap!au, soulmates!au (you know me), smut (18+), humour.

peers down through speckled glasses, what’s next..? …oh god. sighs heavily and licks pen.

so i knew from the moment i read ‘body swap’ within the tags that this concept was gonna be so fuckin’ weird but so damn good. and low n behold, it didn’t disappoint. luckily i am a lover of fuckin’ weird.

this concept is so difficult to write. the foreign sensation of a different body and trying to channel each thought n emotions involved is complicated to convey, but this author did it so incredibly well.

also, not to be that person… but that smut… i’m gon’ be sleeping soooo well tonight let’s just say that lmfao. 100/10. might go back n read it when i’m done with this.

blushing… X

shakespeare couldn’t even fathom a story such as this - and we’re talking about the guy who once wrote about an incestuous relationship between a king and his daughter.

crazy work. you are so cool @stutterfly.

( ✎ ) TRIVIA LOVE — by @luxekook

!! namjoon x reader | 5.4k !!

non idol!au, smut (18+).

to quote myself from my reblog on feb 26 2020, “why was i smiling the whole way throughout this??” n you know what? hell yea i still stand by that!

this is the second pub quiz fic i have within this chapter (surprisingly, but not disappointing), but the circumstances cannot be more different.

the first group i would join, perhaps even rally with a little. but if i’m ever attending a pub night and these mother fuckers are in tow, best believe i’m leaving. they’re not ones to fuck with yo. they have $20 to win. they mean war.

since we’re at the end, and i’m 100% convinced nobody is still reading these, soooo… i can speak my truth. someone get me on joon’s lap. you gon’ be calling me cinderella cuz it’s gonna fit perfectly by midnight bro. on the dot.

this is - n will always be - a classic to me. one that i will always return to eventually. i can dress up all i want with these big fics, but these smaller ones are always a guilty pleasure.

like cinderella returning to her mice friends (or whatever), i will always come back to @luxekook and their stories.

forever xoxo.

MARKNEE’S SPECIAL MENTIONS:

caught my attention, and deserve their flowers.

( ♬ ) THE DEVIL SKATES ON THIN ICE — by @vankoya

!! yoongi x reader | 60.5k !!

winter sports!au, fluff, angst, humour.

my love life also skates on thin ice. lmfao. especially after this.

( ✎ ) KNOCKED — by @sailoryooons

!! streamer!seokjin x f!reader | 10.6k !!

roommates to lovers, smut (18+), humour.

more like she’s about to knock him out.

( ♬ ) NEFARIOUS — by @yoonia

!! jimin x f!reader | 39.2k !!

sex club!au, gentlemen club!au, smut (18+).

lets out a long sigh. won’t be in a rush to forget this one.

( ✎ ) THINGS WE DON’T SAY — by @wintaerbaer

!! taehyung x reader | 54.5k !!

best friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut.

the found family trope is strooong.

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evilincoperated · 3 days ago

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I will Fall In love with you, over and over again

Paring: Spencer Reid x gn!reader (No use of y/n)

Summary: Spencer is clingy after prison, and you just want him to open up

Fluff and Hurt/Comfort

cw: Mentions of prison

A/N: My first time ever writing a fic so please be nice, and bear with me. Not Proof Read lol

Spencer was different, well that goes without saying. He had been imprisoned falsely for three months, he didn’t even want to tell you what was happening with him. He was broken. But he knew one thing, he could never hurt you, not you, not the one light in his life. Before Spencer was fairly independent, he wasn’t huge on physical touch, but he didn’t mind it, he just never really initiated it. But now he’s attached to you. Emily made him take a few months off of work, and ever since he got home he’s been like a puppy, always with you. He wants you next to him at all times. He’s always asking to cuddle, always kissing you like it’d be the last time, and he learned how to text better just so he could text you every half hour at least while you’re working. You want to help him, you want him to be honest, tell you what happened, communicate, and let you help. But he never could, he couldn’t taint you, couldn’t risk dampening your light.

It all came to fruition one night. You had just gotten home, and like a moth to a flame Spencer ran to greet you, enveloping you in his arms immediately, like his life depended on it. “Mm, missed you” he mumbled, “felt like you were gone forever.” “It was just an eight hour work day, we’ve been apart longer” you said teasing him, trying to get him to dig into why he’s been so desperate for love lately. “I know.” He waited until you got your shoes and coat off before leading you to the couch, sitting down and gently pulling you down so you could be right up against his side. “How was work? I missed you, I think we need to take a vacation-” He started rambling as soon as you sat down, only stopping when he saw the distressed look on your face. “What's wrong love?” “You hate vacations, you say hotels are germ breeding grounds and that you spend enough time in them as it is.” You look at him and adjust so you’re face to face with him, grabbing his hand. “Can you talk to me, Spence? And I mean talk to me, I need to know if you’re okay, you’ve been acting so different-” “I was in prison love, of course I’m different.” “Well I know, but you haven’t been acting the way the therapists predicted you would.” “Have I ever acted in a way anyone could predict?” He said smiling, trying to lighten the mood. “Spence, I’m serious, I’m worried and you won't talk to me, you’re just always trying to make sure I’m okay, when it should be the other way around. You went through something, not me.” He sighed, “I know, I know I went through something, but I can’t let anything ruin this. You’re all I have left, the only thing I have in my life that I know will never hurt me- not that you’re a thing- sorry I’m not saying this right. All I know is that I can’t risk showing you that I’m broken, you might leave, I’m not the man you knew.” He looked as if he was about to cry. You couldn’t stand it, you kissed him gently, he responded quickly, tenderly kissing you back. “You’re not going to scare me away Spencer. I love you, I don’t love the man you think you should be, I love the man you are. No matter who that is right now. You can always talk to me, always.” You whisper against his lips, before leaving a trail of kisses from his lips to his ear to whisper, “you can trust me.” He swallowed firmly, starting to cry, your heart broke. “I know that logically, obviously I know that, I trust you, I love you. There’s just that part of my brain that says you’ll leave, you’ll see that I’m not worth it.” “You are worth it Spencer, you’ll always be worth it.”

He started crying harder, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, his tears staining your shirt. “I guess, I just don’t want to be apart from you anymore. I spent three months only being able to see you from behind a glass wall, never being able to touch you. I never thought I’d miss just holding your hand, how warm you are. And now that I’m back, I just need to be near you, I need to know you’re there, that you're here with me. And it feels like the only way to do that is to be your perfect man” He sobbed into your shoulder, hugging you tighter. “Hey, hey, I am here. And you are my perfect man, no matter what, or how long we’re apart, you’ll always be that guy.” You start running your fingers through his hair. “And how about this? I’ll take time off of work, but instead of going on a germy vacation, we stay here. We’ll have Doctor Who marathons, watch romcoms, make popcorn, and never leave this apartment unless we need to get something.” You suggested this with a grin, “I’d like that, I’d love that.” He pulled away and kissed you gently, putting his hands on your face. “I’ll call my boss in the morning.” And you laid there, just the two of you, for what felt like an eternity.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid one shot #Spotify

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burntblueberrywaffles · 2 days ago

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While I appreciate the sentiment… I think this is not totally true.

Some of us just CANNOT write things out; trust me I’ve tried; and you know; I’m a poet; and I’m GREAT at it; I’ve even won some prizes; but a story?? At MOST; If im feeling some divine inspiration I’ll get something like a 1k one shot; but a longer story? Absolutely not

And me getting the inspiration to do something is not just needing the base idea- I need to have ALL of it in mind; scene for scene; line for line; because I’m pretty good at coming up with very wide plot outline and prompts; and I’m a very active member of my fandom when it comes to giving out story ideas to my writer friends; but ultimately I am just incapable of writing it myself.

And while doing things like drawing fanarts or writing poetry very enjoyable… trying to put together an actual story feels like pulling teeth.

I definitely agree with the overarching sentiment of the post; which is; please don’t be afraid to try! Every creator you love did it for the first time at some point - and you might just discover that you’re much better at it than you would’ve thought!

But if you’ve tried; and you’ve found that it’s just not one of your skills? Or that you actively hate every second of the process; and it’s just not fun at all for you? I think that’s perfectly ok. Not everyone has to be a fanfic writer; and doing things like coming up with prompts; being a beta reader; commenting on fics you love, making rec lists, and so many others are all essentially components of fandom! I think a fandom is a community that thrive from tons of different people with different sets of skills come together 🫶

“why isn’t there any fic about (x)?” there can be a fic that is precisely about what you want to read. just start writing that fic for yourself.

“but I’m not a writer” every writer has had their first time writing. most writers start with writing something they want to read. your work doesn’t have to be perfect, because having 1 fic that is precisely about what you want to read, even if it’s not perfect, is still better than having 0 fics about what you want to read.

#blue talks #like… I’d rather have my vague imaginings than actually trying to write out a story #I don’t have time to waste on that… I’m busy customizing these Barbie dolls so they looks like my ship 😤#sksksksk I’ve had a hand in all form of fandom creation but writing is my least favourite I fear #I’d rather use my time making art #and hoping a writer will pick up one of my prompts 🫢

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eureka-its-zico · 2 days ago

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Residuals Pt.2

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, slight age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok

Warnings: Language, sexual themes (it's the patient)

A/N: So, this chapter is much beefier than the last. To anyone new here and my writing - I'm a long-winded bitch, so I apologize in advance 🤣. This chapter also uses slight dialogue from the show. There is a scene in this I took from my time working in the ER during the 2020/2021 pandemic. 100% this actually happened. It was traumatizing lol. Thank you, guys, so much for taking such an interest in this fic! For showing so much love and loving on this show along with me (and Dr. Robby lol) because it's fantastic and deserves all the fics and all the love! I truly am grateful and hope that you enjoy this chapter. Much Love, Jenn 🖤

Shout out to @viridian-dagger for looking this over for me. Thank you for putting up with me lol. I Love you. Also, thanks to @strangergraphics for the cute little divider.

Word count: 7524

Previous I Next

7:00 AM - 8:00 AM

You’d been staring at the screen for what accumulated into an eternity in the ED. The longer you kept staring, kept from just choosing one of the damn patients on the board, the bigger the risk grew that Dana would notice.

Or worse - Robby.

If Dana took notice of you willfully choosing to stare off into premeditated space, you were willing to bet your firstborn she’d reprimand you first and tell Robby second. She'd shoo you away from her desk with a fervor usually saved for psych patients, as if you had cooties. With your current calculations on how this morning started, either option would be unpleasant.

Whether any of you liked it or not, you were here, and that meant one glaringly - neon sign bright - reality. Robby was going to be your fucking boss for the next twenty-four hours. And not in a kinky way. At least, not the way either of you used to enjoy.

From the moment the briefing ended, the disdain at your presence made it painfully clear that you were not welcome. Everyone dispersed in true manic speed to meet the batshit energy that constantly swirled inside the Pitt. It was the place that kept on giving even when you politely asked to be put in time out - because damn you needed just a moment to get your shit together. But the ER was in its own solar system, and it required everyone who walked inside to be ready for whatever was thrown their way. You didn’t get a say - weren’t allowed to say no or ‘hard pass’, on cases that came flowing in and what dictated an emergency. You were either ready or you weren’t. You either made it or you cracked.

There wasn’t any damn structure here. Just spontaneity with a dash of madness but, in that madness, greatness could be born. Adamson always said you never knew what kind of doctor you were - the depths of your compassion - until it was tested in the blood, sweat, and fire of the Pitt.

You’d been tried, tested, and by the end knew exactly what kind of doctor you were. What kind of doctor you strived to be - like Adamson. Just like Robby. But it’d been two very long years since you’d been able to call this madhouse home. The ease of set-timed patients with a patient history readily at your fingertips had spoiled you. Every question that needed to be asked without actually asking was answered and waiting just for you to see. Pre-existing conditions or possible new ones with known side effects were readily available for you to view.

So, yeah, you were panicky - terrified - about heading out onto the floor with a thousand unknowns. It wasn’t helping that Perlah and Princess hadn’t greeted you with more than a sneer and an eye roll that’d impress your fifteen-year-old niece. Robby and his flock of med students bounded off to make rounds that lasted less than three minutes before rapids began flowing through the ambulance bay. With any luck, you’d have one solid minute to look over the board, dissect what room held the most viable case to close, and head there.

Just jump right back in and pray you didn’t fall flat on your face.

The numbing sensation that resonated earlier in your chest returned with a vengeance. It didn’t start gradually, but collided against your nerves; exploding like a colony of ants that bit and tore leaving behind flashes of panic. You tried to lead the sensation out through your hands with a subtle shake. If you allowed the anxiety to fester itself it would no doubt become housed to you the entire shift.

You were better than this. You interned in the Pitt. You chose to stay after you’d obtained a full-time position. Two years away from this damn madhouse shouldn’t have affected you this strongly but that wasn’t accounting for outside stimuli…

But looking up at the large TV monitor, new names being added to the FirstNet system with brightly colored labels, it made you want to scream. It made you feel hopeless.

Fuck. You were better than this.

The background erupted with shouts from an incoming trauma. Two severe traumas from the sound of rushing feet and Robby’s directions. You didn’t hear most of what the paramedics relayed to Robby and the med students. You did, however, catch the word degloving as they rolled into trauma rooms one and two. You did not envy the med students.

You gave your hands one last shake as your eyes combed over the patient list one more time. You’d found a possible ingestion of a foreign object by a child in triage room eleven. Simple. Easy. You were already going over possible orders to give. An x-ray was to get a better picture if the obstruction was heading downward or if an endoscopy would be necessary for removal. What signs to look for as you assessed the child while making sure they were still alert and swallowing normally. You thought of how to introduce yourself when a familiar voice thrust you back into the present.

“Forget how to read a patient board, Fullerton?”

Dana’s words were pure ice. The years of friendship and playful jokes appeared to be burned to a pile of ash. You didn’t need to look at her to know she wasn’t regarding you with a friendlier expression than Perlah had moments before.

“No,” you sighed, your eyes finally dragged from the screen to her. “Just taking in the options.”

“This isn’t a buffet, in case you forgot. I know it runs easier and less dirty for you guys upstairs, but down here time is a precious commodity.”

“I am well aware of how simple consultations can turn serious, Dana.”

“Oh, you do,” she gasped in mock surprise. She’d removed her glasses from her nose and held them against her chest. “I guess that means you should stop wasting time and do your job. Don’t want your Press Ganey scores droppin’.”

“Not that I don’t love the pep talk, Dana. I’m just curious, are you going to be riding my ass this hard the whole shift?”

The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it. The ears of every available RN and technician who sat around Dana’s nursing station no doubt heard. The verbal back and forth so early in the morning was beginning to give you whiplash.

“I don’t know, sunshine is there a reason you think I shouldn’t? You know,” she began, her body involuntarily inching closer. Her shoulder leaned in closer so her barbed words could sink deep enough to wound. “What a surprise to learn that this whole time - the entire fucking two years you were gone - you’d simply been up-fucking-stairs.”

It was in those last few words you saw it. It was so quick you might’ve missed it if you weren’t dialed in. No matter what Dana, or anyone else, said to you today, it would never compare to the carnage you’d left behind with your silence. The pain of seeing the hurt you’d left behind, sharp and unforgiving, was like a lancet; slicing through the tough hide you’d prepared for the day.

“Dana -”

Shit, you did not need your voice to crack. You did not need to crack.

Unluckily for you, she wasn’t in the mood to hear from you. A hand rushed up to brush off whatever weak attempt at placating her she knew you would try and send her way.

“I don’t want to hear it, kid. Months I was worried sick about you. Just to find out you chose to forget we even existed down here. A literal ghost walking back into our lives right when we’ve just about healed. You’re a real asshole, Fullerton.”

She lifted the glasses back to rest on the bridge of her nose. The coolness of her stare reminded you - if her final words didn’t - that you weren’t a welcome sight in the Pitt. Your presence threw off what little harmony they coveted, the family dynamics, and you knew she would fight to preserve it - to protect Robby - and everyone else in the process.

Your tongue pressed against the side of your cheek. A weak balm to cool the warring wave of emotions that rapidly replaced the anxiety that moments ago threatened to shatter you into embarrassing little pieces. Now you only felt like shattering for an entirely different reason.

Dana tore her gaze away from you and answered an incoming phone call. Whatever emotions she contended with were conveniently pushed down because she had a job to do. So did you. You found yourself wanting to say to hell with today; with Gloria and all her standards. You hadn’t agreed to be fucking public enemy number one.

It didn’t matter how anyone else saw you. What mattered right now was the glaringly obvious pain you’d caused to someone who was the Pitt’s raining surrogate mother. Who’d checked in on you, and brought extra food from home because she miraculously knew you’d forgotten yours. A friend that invited you to her family’s Christmas Eve dinner your first year as an intern because you didn’t have family to celebrate with. The woman who’d held you when you’d lost your first patient and scolded you about smoking cigarettes even though she smoked herself.

You wanted to be stubborn. To wait for her to get off that damn phone so you could try and explain, but really what could you say? It wasn’t just Robby you left. You’d chosen to abandon ship with all of them aboard a sinking ship. They never even knew they needed life jackets in the first place.

The cool stare of the nursing staff made your back itch. You needed to get away and get back to why you were here. What you were damn good at doing. Clearing your throat, you made your way around the nurses' station. The stride of your steps was suspiciously close to turning into a jog. Although, you’d never admit that out loud. The sooner you could get to the patient's room the more normal this day would be.

“Holy shit, Fullerton? Is that you?”

The chipper tone and the laughter behind it had warning bells going off in your head in a matter of minutes. You only knew one surgeon who took glee in other people’s discomfort.

Yolanda Garcia, the resident pain in the ass at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, beamed at you like the cat who was dangerously close to eating a new canary. You had a not-so-sneaking suspicion you were the canary in this scenario.

“I don’t know, Garcia does it look like me? It’s too early for you to be hallucinating.”

“Does Robby know you’re here?”

Oh, she had to be eating this up. The sheer mayhem she knew this would cause - psychologically speaking - must have been making her toes curl. She was beaming, practically euphoric from the very thought. Her feet were no doubt burning to run and tell him as if he didn’t already know.

You tried to sidestep around her obnoxiously grinning form only for her to shadow your movement.

“It’s great to see you haven’t lost that dream of auditioning for the Wicked Witch of the East, Yolanda.”

“Robby is going to flip when he hears about this.”

“Great. Why don’t you run along now and tell him,” you quipped while patting her arm. “I have patients to attend to.”

“I bet you do.”

This time when you moved to sidestep her, Garcia didn’t make any move to follow. No doubt too busy riding her broom to be the harbinger of doom all over again for one specific unfortunate soul.

“Are you aware that Fullerton is here? Just walking around the Pitt attending to patients?”

It shouldn’t have come as a shock that once Garcia saw you, she’d use you in any capacity to rile him up. Hell, Robby was willing to bet the minute she’d noticed you - whether walking or inside a patient room - Garcia would’ve encroached on your space. The two of you historically had one of the worst feuds Adamson said he’d seen between interns in years. It didn’t surprise him that even after you’d both secured your jobs within the hospital it never ended.

What did surprise him was how breezily she asked her questions. She hadn’t even taken five steps into trauma one before she fired each one off in his direction. His hands crossed his body to grip his shoulders. He needed something to steady himself and each finger that dug into the meat of his biceps was all he needed to help keep him centered. Keep his head in this room with this patient and not somewhere else.

“Yes, Dr. Garcia I am well aware she is here.”

He watched the exchange between Collins and Garcia and nodded his approval at Collin’s when she stood her ground and called for a popliteal block instead of morphine.

“Where’s the next guy?”

“Next door. He’s a bit worse.”

This was something he could do. Something his mind could piece together and work around. Robby knew medicine. Saving lives wasn’t the hardest part of his day - it was having to try and make sense of his own that held that prize.

Garcia was in the middle of giving one last instruction of what she wanted before she fully followed him into the room. Dr. Mohan and a med student, Santos, were in the process of intubating Mr. Wallace.

“How do you feel about that?”

Robby had been so laser-focused watching them place the tube that he hadn’t heard Dr. Garcia the first time. So, of course, she asked again.

“Feel about what?”

He was under the impression they were focused on the patient. He should've known better when it came to Garcia. She was relentless until she got what she wanted.

“Come on, Robby, let’s not be coy. You expect me to believe you don’t have big feelings about her being down here? You guys were engaged - ”

A split second. That was all it took for him to become glaringly aware of the room. Of all the people in it, they no longer were singularly focused on the patient but split down the middle. While Garcia effortlessly watched over the med students and their progress, she equally watched him for any sign of a reaction.

He needed to put an end to her question before she overshared information that first-day interns had no business knowing. Robby found himself itching under the watchful gazes of staff. Princess in particular he caught glancing up from where she was handing over instruments.

“I don’t see how that information pertains to anything dealing with our patients, Dr. Garcia. How about we stay focused on the task at hand.”

Robby saw the smirk on her face. A dog with a bone. That’s what Garcia was going to be like all fucking day because she was just eating this up.

He put himself back in motion - being the watchful attendee as Dr. Mohan successfully placed the intubation tube.

“I’m in!”

“Good! Well done.”

Robby could do this. He could be a doctor. He could be the attendee overseeing and teaching others. He could do this. He could do this. He listened closely as Dr. King checked for the patient’s medical history - there was none. He listened to Yolanda give off medication to administer before shipping Mr. Wallace up to CT for a scan. Once Robby was sure everything was moving smoothly, he moved around the foot of the patient’s bed to stand next to Princess.

“Do me a favor,” he asked gently, “Swap out with Jessie for me, would you?”

Their degloving patient screamed in a language no one knew but - Robby was hoping - Princess would know. He was following behind her when a familiar - and unwelcome voice - called out behind him.

“Dr. Robinavitch. Do you have a moment?”

No. He would never have another fucking moment for Gloria. She effectively used up every last moment he had left to spare when she dragged you down here. Robby was barely holding on to what small pieces of sanity he had left. He didn’t need any more shit to deal with before 7:30 am.

“Ugh, I’m a little busy right now, Gloria. One sec.”

He meant no fucking seconds but he still had to play nice, right. Robby was never good at playing politics. Adamson told him countless times it was the unseen added responsibility of an attending. The constant hounding from the administration staff and CEOs demanding doctors and nurses carried more than just keeping people alive.

Gloria followed him through the rooms and stood at the side. Her presence was a constant reminder to him that she wasn’t going to leave empty-handed.

Robby did all he could to monitor the med students’ and his residents as they made their assessments. When Princess notified him she couldn’t figure out the language, Robby took it as a small win to allow him to grab language services, giving him a few seconds to breathe.

It was short-lived.

By the time the officer walked in, Gloria had her fill of being on the back burner. She wouldn’t be ignored any longer and they both knew Robby was no longer needed. His residents’ had both patients stabilized and were finishing up preparing them to begin proper treatments. It left him the odd man out. It left him having to take a walk with Gloria.

The walking and talking was about metrics - Press Ganey scores. The endless bitching about low numbers that couldn’t be fixed without proper staffing was affecting patient satisfaction. It was easy for Gloria to pin the poor numbers on Robby, Abbot, and the entire Pitt staff. Easier to claim they just weren’t already busting their ass hard enough instead of admitting they were short-staffed in every department. That their metrics and data issues of force-fed shitty scores could be solved simply by hiring more nurses - paying better wages.

But everything Robby ever said - tried to tell Gloria until his vision reddened - fell on uncaring ears.

After everything he tried to tell her again all she latched onto was when he used the word “Pitt” instead of the official term of an emergency department. Derogatory. That was what she called it. Incompatible with institutional images.

Robby wanted to scream.

“You know what's incompatible with the institution's image? Me speaking to the media about people who code in our waiting rooms and people who get shitty care in our hallways waiting for an ICU bed for days.”

“I’ve heard about doctors who tried that and found themselves out of work.”

The thinly veiled threat wasn’t lost on him. The next words he would’ve liked to have said to Gloria in response, he was forced to cover up under a mirthless laugh.

“I know today is difficult for you - “

Fuuuck no. No. He was not doing this, especially not with Gloria. No matter what was said after this, Robby could feel the cusp of a storm riding at the frayed edges of his psyche. Knew it was there with each passing millisecond as he waited for it to implode.

“Everyday is difficult down here,” he bit in.

“Boarding is a nationwide problem. Your predecessor, Adamson, sure as hell knew that. Or wasn’t that something he taught you?”

And there it fucking was. His eyes snapped shut as he tried to rain in the tidal wave that roared in his ears. The cautionary warnings of a catastrophe brewing beneath the surface only grew louder.

It wasn’t even fucking 7:30 yet.

“Fuuuuck. Wow. Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

Gloria would never back down. She was as strong and determined as anyone Robby ever met. Under different circumstances, he would’ve found her impressive, but this wasn’t any other circumstance than her riding his ass like she usually did.

Robby shook his head again to try and clear the black dots from his vision. It was just a brief shake. His eyes skimmed across each full bed that held a waiting patient. The universe must have perfect timing with fucking with him today. In that brief look, Robby watched you appear from behind a patient curtain. A reassuring smile on your face as you spoke one final time to the family of three inside before you closed it shut behind you.

You weren’t aware he’d seen you - that he was watching. It was a split second but live wires only needed one second to find a conduit to create sparks that burned down everything around it. He shook his head to try and clear it. His gaze landing back on Gloria with a new bone to pick.

“Don’t you think you should’ve cleared it with me before you brought Dr. Fullerton down?”

Before his sentence finished, Robby could tell by Gloria’s response she found his question idiotic.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was unaware the board needed to clear every decision with you first, Dr. Robby. Also, weren’t you just complaining about the lack of staffing?”

“I was saying to hire more nurses - not to bring down a doctor from a whole other floor.”

“A doctor who has been with this hospital for close to a decade, trained by Adamson, and you, might I add. Look, I get it. You two have…history. Which is one of the main reasons we frown upon fraternization.”

“Please, spare me the HR talk, Gloria.”

“You need to put your big boy pants on, Dr. Robby. Fullerton is staying down here whether you like it or not. Don’t like it, can’t manage the crisis or who the hospital chooses to staff down in the ER, you can either step up or step aside.”

Gloria didn’t give him a chance to respond. She gave him one last condescending look, one Robby hoped he mirrored back to her, before turning on her heels and walking away. His eyes followed her for a few seconds, debating if he wanted to chase after her. Just hand over his badge and call it quits because the feeling of defeat weighed so damn heavy on his shoulders that he thought there might be a chance he’d never get back up.

Instead, he turned to look at the nursing station where Dana was casually walking. He knew she heard the entire conversation. He just didn’t want to have to repeat what just occurred or discuss it in the slightest.

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and was ready to return into the fray because he could handle that. He could help patients. He could be the doctor they needed. Before he even moved a step Dana motioned for him to come towards the desk.

The little devil on his shoulder warned him that he might end up regretting it.

“You know, Robby, I’ve been thinking - “

“Why do I feel like this isn’t going to go well,” he sighed.

Dana simply waved him off before she continued.

“You aren’t being very realistic on the whole, ‘stay in the triage only’ demand. You want her to just waste her skills by only helping out in the front?”

“She won’t be wasting them,” he huffed.

His hands reached out to grip the edge of the counter. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He did not want to have this conver -

“I think you’re just hoping that’s where she stays so you don’t have to see her.”

“One can dream, Dana.”

Robby did not trust - nor like - the coy look he received in response to his words.

“Who am I to get in the way of a man’s dream?” She replied, her eyes examining him in a way he hated. No one could hide anything from Dana. “Although, if I know you -“

“Dana -“ he warned.

“ - I would be willing to bet -“

“Dana, I’m being serious -“

“ - that you want to see her.”

“Now why would I want that?”

“You’ve been scanning the halls every few seconds since we’ve been talking, Robby. I don’t think you’re admiring the wonderful view of bodily fluids and stale piss scent.”

“Alright I’ve had enough of your idea of what I’m assuming is a half-assed pep talk.”

“Just…be honest with yourself, Robby. You both got a lot of unresolved tension with a dash of a shit ton of issues. Probably be better to hash it out when you can, and in private, instead of exploding in front of interns or patients.”

Robby wanted to question if she was willing to do the same. Would Dana be able to have you come to the desk for patient transfer information, for updates, calls; and for everything and not be as affected as he was? Robby remembered he wasn’t the only one who’d lost you - felt lost without you.

Robby wasn’t ready to confront you. Hell, he wasn’t ready to be alone with you and try to talk like civil adults. He wasn’t there yet and maybe he wouldn’t be. What he could be was an attending physician. He was great at that.

He could do that. Everything else would just have to wait.

Upon further examination of the little penny swallower in 7 North, he showed no signs of abnormal drooling or trouble swallowing. Palpitating the stomach didn’t have any response of abdominal pain or tenderness. With a few more questions about possible fever or trouble breathing, you felt confident in informing the family an x-ray would be needed just to verify the penny was making safe travels down to be…expelled. Easier and less invasive to exit that way.

You told them once you were notified the x-ray results were ready, you’d come to speak to them about the next steps. Hopefully, it meant they could be discharged in an hour or less. Which meant you had an hour to kill between waiting for the results. After reading the chief complaint on the board for 12 South, you thought it was a solid contender for a quickie.

As it turned out, it was the worst idea you’d had that morning.

When you pulled back the curtain and began the examination, what you’d found waiting for you under the dressing gown wasn’t on your bingo card. Actually, it should never be on anyone’s bingo card. Not ever.

You’d tried to come up with any other option than needing to consult Robby. He didn’t want to see you throughout the day - ever. It was a sentiment you equally shared with him and one you happily would’ve avoided except…you need the advice.

You need to present the case and get some solid, solid advice and, quite possibly, traumatize him in the process. You couldn’t be the only one subjected to seeing what you saw at freaking 7:37 in the morning. The only issue: you had no fucking clue where he was.

In true Pitt fashion, doctors were bouncing from one room to another. Already you’d heard McKay call earlier about needing a crash cart. When you’d run out to assist, Mateo, a newer RN you’d yet to meet let you know they had it - if you were needed they’d call.

You also knew that after 7:30, rigs would be bringing in elderly patients from the nursing homes. Another thing that would keep Robby busy and make it near impossible for you to try and consult with him. It was already going to be a battle just to keep him from turning and bolting in the other direction when he saw you.

This limbo of time left you a few minutes to run to the break room and take a blissful sip of your more than likely room-temperature coffee. It didn’t matter: caffeine was caffeine and you would take it any way you could get it. You just had to make one last pit stop before you disappeared.

You circled the nurses' station and found the exact nurse you were looking for sitting at one of the station’s computers. You had to hand it to Perlah, whether she saw you coming or sensed your presence like a disturbance in the force, she refused to glance up from the screen. Her eyes scan over something repeatedly as her fingers pound into the keyboard.

“Perlah, have you seen Robby?”

She still wasn’t looking up.

“Nope,” she replied, popping her P heavily.

“If you do see him, can you let him know I’m looking for him?”

“Nope.”

Your lips tucked into a grimace as your gaze peered over the edge of the computer. Perlah’s eyes didn’t lift once.

“Okay. Great talk.”

“Mhmm.”

Yeah, today was off to a really fantastic start.

There wasn’t any point hanging around the nurses' station for longer than was embarrassingly needed. You took the loss in stride, and by stride, it meant with a heavy sigh of defeat that had your feet dragging that defeatist attitude into the breakroom. Where you found one of Robby’s newest med students sitting at the break room’s table.

If you felt defeated, you weren’t sure what the proper word for her would be. She looked like a reprimanded child instead of a doctor. Her small frame was tucked in tight, like a fetal position with her forehead almost completely collapsing onto the table.

You weren’t able to catch any of their names earlier because you all but missed morning rounds. All you knew was she was one of Robby’s four interns and by far the youngest from the looks of it.

You eyed her warily as you moved towards the side counter. You’d stashed your coffee on top of the microwave and, once in hand, immediately brought it to your lips for a long pull.

Yep. It tasted as good as you thought it would.

The girl brightened once she realized you’d entered. Her nerves had her eyes darting down and back up again seemingly unable, or just not comfortable enough, to keep them trained on you.

“You’re one of Robby’s new med students today, right?” A timid smile rose and fell on her lips. You watched while she tried to make out if you were friend or foe. In an attempt to prove the former, you offered up a warm smile as you introduced yourself.

“Victoria Javadi - MS3.”

“It’s a pleasure, Dr. Javadi. May I ask what you’re doing in the breakroom instead of out in the Pitt?”

Your question was meant to be that: a simple question. No ulterior motives were waiting in the wings especially not the lecture Adamson gave you your first year when he caught you napping in here. But your simple question extinguished what little bit of life had lit up in the young girls’ eyes.

“I - I - my foot hit a gurney during Dr. Collin’s and Dr. Langdon’s demonstration on the degloving patient. It was nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing. Whatever happened was everything to her and not in the best of ways.

“That’s okay. It happens,” you shrugged. “I stuck myself with a needle once.”

“Really?” She asked, her voice timid and eyes unbelieving.

“Oh, yeah. My second year of residency too. The patient became combative while I was trying to administer the medication. The needle got jammed in my clavicle.”

You couldn’t believe it - it earned you a laugh. A nervous one, but it was still a laugh. You watched her as she brightened and dimmed; a constant flux of warring thoughts that you weren’t sure which side was winning.

“Whatever happens out there, don't let it get you down. We never stop learning as human beings or as doctors. Everyone out there has made a mistake in some capacity. Hell,” you snorted as you pushed off from the kitchenette’s counter, “Michael got hit with a bedpan once.”

“Michael?”

God, you’d gotten too familiar. Your memory of that day makes you have a Freudian slip into the days you called him more by his first name instead of his nickname.

“Oh, uhm, Dr. Robby. I’m going to head out but if you want, once you’re done here, you can come find me. I’d be more than happy to teach you.”

“Thank you, but I’m sure Dr. Robby is just having me take a break. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

You were tempted to tell her to come find you anyway, just in case. In case it didn’t go how she thought when she did finally check back in with Robby. Whether she verbally agreed to the offer or not, you hoped she knew it was still there. This was a teaching hospital after all.

Dana and Robby were walking back to the nurses' station. He’d just gotten one major surprise of finding out Javadi was Eileen Shamsi’s daughter and while he was all for surprises, that was one he'd like to have been prepared for.

Just like Dana had warned him, via Perlah, that you were looking for him he saw you standing there waiting. For him. He’d had all of five seconds to come to terms with the fact you were both about to have your first direct conversation in over two years. After two long years of no contact, it was about work.

He should’ve been happy it was just about work and not all the other bullshit that’d accumulated over those two years. He should’ve been fucking thrilled, but he wasn’t. Robby had so many questions - so many things he wanted to say. There was so much to say - to ask - and instead here he was preparing to discuss something easy.

Robby and Dana split up at the middle entrance. She returned to man her station in the center of this circus, while he came up to stand beside you leaning against the nurses' station. Your fingers tapped on the counter while your chin rested in your other hand.

“Something’s got you deep in thought.”

Robby knew the answer - knew it because outside of himself, outside of Jake, you were the only other person he knew inside out. Your fidgeting fingers, a tick he knew well, would tap out a Morse Code of a problem you were trying to solve. The faster the tapping, the closer Robby knew you were coming closer to asking for his opinion. You’d done this all the years you’d worked together and at home when you couldn’t decide if oregano was an okay substitution for Italian seasoning.

“Cock rings.”

“Excuse me?”

Robby could feel his eyebrows skyrocketing towards the ceiling. He rocked forward and back on his feet while the fists he’d buried inside his hoodie pushed against the fabric. His body subconsciously leaned towards you because, well hell, he couldn’t believe those two words just left your mouth.

He hated that his eyes caught the slight uptick in the corner of your mouth. The same corner where all your sarcastic ass smirks originated before they blackmailed their way to full-blown smiles. What Robby hated the most was how that small bit of familiarity took a sledgehammer to the carefully constructed walls he’d built. Fucking hated how his lips betrayed him by beginning to match the playfulness in your eyes. Loathed entirely how his heart did somersaults like he was a teenager again and the girl he’d crushed on just looked at him like he hung the stars.

“Cock rings.” You said it like it wasn’t the lewdest thing he’d heard all day. Simple. Matter-of-fact. “What do you know about them?”

This was fucking absurd, was all he could think.

“Uhm, why exactly is this your question?”

“Jesus, Robby, I’m not asking if you’ve used them. My patient in 12 South - was brought in by his mother for supposed swelling and pain in the inguinal region. Upon examination, found he attached sixteen key rings as makeshift cock rings along the length of his penis.”

His brain was still in the process of trying to comprehend the scenario you’d just fed him. That was his excuse for his eloquent reply, “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I sincerely, with my full chest, wish I was. He’s traumatized. Mom’s traumatized. Shit, I’m traumatized, but I can’t figure out a safe alternative to removing the rings without causing damage.”

“What are you two discussing?”

Dana seemed to arrive at the best and worst possible moment because Robby didn’t know how to answer that question. Apparently, you had no problem informing her it was -

“Cock rings.”

Robby wondered if Dana’s stunned-to-silence expression was how he’d looked earlier.

“Well, shit, Fullerton this is the wrong department for that - “

“It’s my patient in 12 South. He decided to MacGyver himself some cock rings out of key rings.”

“What about MacGyver?”

Langdon slid a tablet back on the charging station - gaze laser focused between you and him. One of Langdon’s brows rose in silent question that Robby could only answer with a shrug.

“I’m sorry but who is MacGyver?” Dr. King asked, eyes shifting with expectation between the four of them for whoever would give up the answer.

“MacGyver’s an old 80’s TV show where the detective guy gets himself out of sticky situations by using random stuff.”

“Random stuff?”

“Anything eye level,” you quipped.

“Okay, anyways, Fullerton,” Langdon butted in, “What’s with your MacGyver patient.”

“Cock rings.”

Robby swore if he heard the words “cock” and “ring” come out of your mouth one more time he was going to fucking combust.

“Cock…rings?”

From how green Mel looked after stuttering out those words, Robby was sure he wasn’t alone in his earlier sentiment.

“They say it’s meant to enhance stimulation by restricting blood flow to the penis. I’m pretty sure men buy them because it enlarges the penis making it thicker with the possibility they’ll last longer in bed. You can currently pick one up on Amazon.”

“Jesus,” Dana mumbled.

“Really?”

Mel took a giant step closer to the edge of the desk. Her earlier discomfort was removed by the idea of garnering new information. The warning signs were blaring loudly when you whipped your phone from your scrub's back pocket.

“Oh, yeah and they come in different styles of materials - “

“Oookay.” Robby heard more than enough. If he was being honest with himself, fuck he hated how it bothered him hearing you talk so casually about sex toys. Toys he knew, for a fact, the two of you never used because he never needed the extra help. He knew every inch of your skin; how you liked to be handled and touched. Could recall with crystal clarity the plains of your body, mapped out to memory by his hands, by his mouth, and the way your breath would hitch just before a moan slid past your lips. If any asshole was touching you now - he wasn’t fucking doing it right. Clearing his throat - and his fucking head because Jesus H. Christ - he rested his forearms on the counter as he leaned closer to you. “Can we please move past showing my med students unnecessary sex toys?”

Robby was leaned down enough that the next time you looked at him it was direct. Direct and ready to challenge him every step of the way. A spark of some hidden remark you were burying back under your tongue brightened his favorite color of iris.

“Squeamish, Michael?”

And there it was again. That fucking smirk.

The use of his name falling so casually from your lips was a gut punch that stole the air from his lungs. He couldn’t stop the pinch of his eyes that narrowed in on you.

Did you just lean closer?

“Not particularly, no. I am, however, making sure we aren’t having an unnecessary conversation that doesn’t pertain to the care and wellbeing of our patients.”

“Sex education is fundamental education. Dr. King asked a question and I was teaching. This form of teaching does pertain to my specific patient who used a similar style of material usually made for this particular toy and, because of lack of education, thought key rings would be a supplementary alternative rather than a safer one. In showing Dr. King the types of materials safely used, and how obtainable and discrete it is to get one, she could educate someone else if she finds herself in a similar situation. Also, it’s 2025, Dr. Robby - we don’t kink shame here. We educate on safe sex practices.”

“Here, here!”

Robby shot a look in Dana’s direction and caught the wisp of a smile before she turned away.

“What a great speech just to cover up your kinks, Fullerton.”

Robby couldn’t tell if Langdon was trying to bait you on purpose just to rile you up or to get you to slip up. He got neither in return.

“You found me out, Frank.”

“Alright, enough.” He needed to cut in before you both went back and forth in an endless loop of who could irritate who the most. It was just a little over half an hour into the shift. “Dr. Fullerton, is there anything else?”

“Ugh, yeah. You still haven’t given me your opinion.”

“Because you never asked a specific question,” he reminded you.

He watched you consider his words; your lips rising into that small pucker. It was your tell that always let him know the debating was over and you were ready to listen to what he had to say.

A part of him hated the familiarity that rested between the two of you. Fuck, you hadn’t changed. Not in any way Robby was able to notice. It was barbaric; and painfully unfair that every mannerism and every glance housed years’ worth of memories. The most painful part of being reminded was the remembrance of loss.

Loving you had been as easy as breathing for him. Until it wasn’t.

The communication the two of you held so easily for years was torn apart during the pandemic. There was too much happening and not enough support mentally when the PTSD started. When the sleeplessness and hopeless feeling began to press a weight down on his chest - his existential crisis bloomed red and bright. Robby didn’t know how to stop the bleeding.

And then you…you’d…

“You’re right, I didn’t.” Your words cut through the fog in his mind, bringing him roaring back to the surface. “If you have a few moments, I would like to get your opinion on my patient and what you think will be best for this particular…situation.”

Robby pushed his arms off the counter. An arm swept out in the direction of the hallway south to indicate you could lead.

“Alright. Let’s see what you got.”

You clapped your hands together before you took a step forward. You hadn’t expected him to agree and the giddiness at winning a battle - or not having to fight one? - intoxicated him. A ghost of a smile tilting the edges of his lips unwillingly up.

The two of you’d made it about five feet before Myrna rolled herself from beside her latest haunt.

“Hey Sugar Tits, where are you skipping off to?”

“Myrna, I’ve expressly told you, my name is Dr. Robby.”

“I’m not talking to you, Fruitcake.”

“It’s me,” you whisper to him before returning your attention to Myrna. Never stopping. Always moving. “I can’t talk now, Myrna. I have a patient.”

“You always say you have a patient,” came her gruff reply.

It was the first hint her chipper demeanor was about to expire.

“Yes, because this is the ER; where I work.”

“Fuck you.”

“Nice talking to you again too, Myrna.”

The walk to 12 South wasn’t quick enough. Every step and moment he spent walking beside you sent a flood of memories rushing to the surface. Robby didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to pretend you hadn’t shared a life - that he hadn’t spent time loving you in every way he could.

“Fruitcake, huh?”

Your words cut through his thoughts and, at first, he’d been grateful for the interruption. Grateful until Robby noticed the teasing gleam in your eyes. How he could spot the mischief that darkened your eyes and didn’t have enough time to prepare.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled.

He didn’t need to look to know you were side-eyeing him.

“It could be worse.”

“Oh, no I doubt that.”

“She could call you something less delicious.”

His hand was mid-reach to pull back the curtain. Your sentence pulled him short and forced him to look down at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“You think fruitcake is delicious? Nobody thinks fruitcake is delicious.”

“True, but it’s arguably better to be called a shitty holiday dessert than, say, something like cocksucker,” you shrugged, moving yourself around him to push behind the curtain.

He was supposed to be angry with you - and he was. He fucking was but…it was easy, almost too fucking easy, to forget the last few months that led up to what dissolved your relationship. It was easy to forget you’d both broken each other in different ways. Robby should’ve hated you, but he couldn’t, and, because of that, he was grateful you couldn’t hear the chuckle he tried to shake away before he followed in after you.

____________

As always thank you so much for your support and for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Much Love,

#Residuals #ongoing series #the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfiction #michael robinavitch #dr michael robinavitch #dr robby #dr robinavitch #dr robby x reader #dr michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x oc #michael robinavitch x oc #dr robby x you #michael robinavitch x you #noah wyle #saucy angsty babies

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day ago

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Can't Have One Without the Other 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

Note: I asked about husbands and all your hoes said Bucky (with a few Sy's in the middle). I wasn't intending on a whole series but I thnk it would be fun to have husband!Bucky turn a bit desperate.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Living alone is tough. You've always found that it's best to keep a routine. Not too strict, you have to make room for spontaneity. You can't let the days turn grey. Take them one at a time but don't count them.

You haven't been to the cafe in a while. It's been longer since you came alone. Still, the house was too constricting, your home office like a cell, You can get some work done over a cappuccino, maybe even get a bit of pep.

Lately, you've been exhausted and you shouldn't be. You're in bed so early that you're usually knocked out around eight or nine. You fall asleep in the glow of the television, watching some ridiculous syndicated drama. It's just enough to keep your frustration from fermenting.

Routine. Wake up, ready, eat, work, forget to stop for lunch, only walk away from the screen when your eyes are dry and you can't stop yawning, give up on the healthy home meal and order in. Sleep alone with your rings on the nightstand.

You taste the cappuccino and sigh. It's sweet but the delight it brings is bitter. That's the happiest you've been in weeks and it's because of a damn espresso.

You pick up your pen and go back to shading. There's nothing there. It used to be that your work made you smile. Art used to be your haven. Now it's the only thing keeping you from thinking too much.

"Oh, what are we working on?" The stranger asks as he nears your table. You retract your pen and reluctantly look up. "An artist in the wild."

Ugh. You should be flattered. It's obvious the man in his cycling gear is flirting. Or trying to.

"Just work. Need it done by three," you explain curtly, hoping he takes the hint.

"Oh, wow, you get paid for that?"

You hesitate, "um, sure."

"I don't mean--" He cringes, "anything by it. It's good. I just... most people would love to be paid for their passion."

Passion? What even is that? You look down at the panel and shrug. The series needs to be killed. It was well past sense long ago. Now the writer is only writing for the paycheck and you're not doing much different.

"I know you already have a drink but maybe I could treat you to something from the bakery. I love their scones," he suggests.

You have to swallow a scoff. The guy's nice. He's not doing anything wrong. It would be flattering if it was another time, another context. If he wasn't offering to add another layer to padding around your middle. The rolls you can't even call love handles because they only make you hate yourself.

"That's sweet but--"

"But she's married," a deeper voice undercuts.

You flinch. You glance up as Bucky approaches. He could probably hear the awkward interaction before he even entered. You're not concerned about that, but you are unnerved to see him there. To see your husband for the first time in a month without warning.

"Oh, uh," the guy rubs his neck and backs up, eyeing Bucky's metal arm. "Sorry, I--" The man chokes on his tongue and quickly flees, forgetting the bakery treats as he flits through the door. He fumbles outside to unlock his bike and you watch him with a frown.

"He was being friendly--"

Bucky drops into the seat across from you, "to my wife."

"I was about to tell him," you set the pen against the tablet so the magnet snags.

"Oh, about to show off your rings?" He nods to your hand. Naked. You left the bands by the bed.

"I forgot. Late night," you shrug. "You didn't tell me you were on your way back."

"I wanted to surprise you," he leans forward and puts his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. "Looks like I got the surprise. You're not home. You're here, flirting with bike jockeys."

"I wasn't doing that," you shake your head.

The accusation is scalding. Does he not remember the girl who didn't realise he was flirting for a whole year? Not like he was ever very good at communicating.

"How was the mission?" You ask evenly. You hold back the resent, tamp down on the promises he made that he wouldn't be away that long again. It's not use hiding, he can hear your pulse, but you still do.

He sighs and reaches for your cappuccino. He takes a sip. His thoughts weave between his brows as he tastes it and gulps tightly. Another thorn in your side. He could eat the whole damn display's worth of scones and muffins and not gain an ounce. That small coffee will cling to you.

"Long. Bullshit," he answers. "Good to be back."

You nod. You can't speak. If you open your mouth, it will all tumble out. He won't apologise so why are you going to make it an issue?

"Well, I'm almost done here," you fold over the cover of your tablet. "If you wanna finish that," you point to the cup.

His cheek ticks. He squints. He leans in further and slides the cup back to you.

"'Welcome back, honey. So happy to see you,'" he snarls derisively, "'I love you, husband.'"

The last consonant is sharp. You wince. You shrink in your chair as you keep your hands on the tablet.

"You surprised me, Bucky. Really." You sniff, "I missed you."

He stares at you. That same look that convinced a young girl he was annoyed by her. That assured you he didn't care about those stupid lines you made on paper, the drawings of Victorian figures and fantastical maidens. The one that melted away drop by drop. The ice is back in his eyes. Or maybe this time, it's in yours.

"Miss you too, babe," he pushes himself back in the chair.

You grab your bag and slide the tablet inside. You rest it in your lap and grab the cup. You drain it as the flavour turns sour in your mouth. Bucky huffs and stands before you can.

"Come on," he says, "let's go find those rings."

You stand and hook the strap of the bag over your head. You send him a look, "really, I forgot."

"Seems like," he grabs your hand. "Forgot a lot."

He drags you to the door. You put your head down as you let him. The insinuation in his words strangles you. Is he really that obtuse or is this projection? You're not the one who forgot this marriage.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #winter soldiers #can't have one without the other

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rafenextdoor · 1 day ago

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CELIBACY - RAFE CAMERON

it’s been too long, celibacy what do you want? tell it to me dropped to my knees let me break your streak, i’m begging you, please

content: inspired on the song celibacy by partynextdoor and drake. includes smut, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v, cream pie, rafe kinda creeps on reader a bit, MINORS DNI!!!!

word count: 3.1k

a/n: this is my first time writing a fic let alone my first time posting on tumblr, please bare with me! still trying to figure out a good layout and there may be misspellings so i’m sorry. feedback is greatly appreciated!! and i’m opening my inbox to requests or questions to talk about rafe/drew/etc.

“you haven’t been fucked in how long?” sarah asked you a bit too loud, her eyes wide in shock at your confession.

you had just told her that you were going on over a year celibate. four hundred and thirty two days.. that’s if you were counting, of course.

it initially started when you and your boyfriend broke up. a drunken fight over jealousy resulted in three years down the drain. you were in no rush to find another sexual partner anytime soon because he was your first for everything. first kiss, first touch, first love. it took you a few months to go through the stages of grief but you got over him eventually, except your standards were different now. through your healing, you realized that you settled for a lot of things that you shouldn’t have.

one of those things being his performance during sex, or lack there of. it was mediocre to say the least, all about him, him, him. you tried to excuse it with the fact that you were his first too, and maybe he just didn’t know any better. but as time went on, nothing changed. he didn’t listen to your wants or needs, and certainly couldn’t fulfill your deepest desires. you were convinced that no one ever would, so you stayed celibate.

you hadn’t even kissed someone since him. you weren’t sure if you still remembered what it felt like.

“sarah!” you exclaimed in embarrassment, giving her a light smack on the arm to hush her. “talk quieter, i don’t need ward hearing anything about my sex life.” you scrunched up your nose at the thought.

“the man is ancient, he can’t hear shit.“ sarah replied nonchalantly. she looked over at her bedroom door to check that it was closed before turning back to face you. “we need to get you laid.”

you shook your head. it’s not like you hadn’t considered it, especially recently. you thought about that more than you’d like to admit, really. most nights ended with your hand between your thighs, attempting to get yourself off. you were always left unsatisfied, it was like an itch in a place you couldn’t quite reach to scratch on your own.

you had been on a few dates, but nothing ever clicked. kildare island was a small town so everyone knew each other. it was difficult, to say the least, to find someone without association to your ex. “i don’t know.. i mean, where would i even start? tinder?”

“hell no. that’s a breeding ground for creeps and losers.” she immediately dismissed. she grabbed her phone from beside her, pulling up a text thread from her boyfriend and flipping it around to show you. “there’s a party at topper’s later, you should come. maybe you’ll find someone there.”

you wanted to say no, but sarah was persistent. you knew she wouldn’t let this down anytime soon, so you agreed to appease her mind. “okay.. i’ll go.”

what you didn’t know is that the walls of tannyhill were thin, and someone was listening in on everything.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

coming here was a bad idea.

it didn’t take long for sarah to walk off to go find topper, leaving you on your own. you slipped through the crowd, finding yourself a drink but no luck with finding anyone worth your time. you quickly felt overstimulated, deciding to wander to the back of the house to find a place away from the crowd. you sat down on a couch, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly to pass the time.

sarah had driven the both of you there, which was definitely a mistake on your part since you knew she would stay the night with topper anyway. she probably thought this would leave you no choice but to go home with someone. you’d have to talk to her about that later.

you were fixing to send her a message that you going to walk home, calling it an early night, until a voice spoke in front of you.

“hey, sugar.”

your eyes left your phone screen, peering up to meet rafe towering over you. he was so close that you had to crane your neck to fully see him. you had always thought he was good looking, too attractive for his own good. he had on a tight-fitted, salmon colored polo paired with his go to khaki shorts, his hair swooped and parted to the side with gel. his arms were folded across his chest, biceps flexing with a sly smile tugging on his lips as he looked down at you. “can i join you?”

you felt your shoulders drop in relief, thankful that it was him and not one of the other frat boys there. you and rafe weren’t close by any means, sarah made sure of that. any time he would try to talk to you while she was around, she would shut it down immediately. not that he really cared or listened to what anyone told him. he wasn’t going to let that stop him, which is why he needed to find a way to get you alone, and this opportunity had you falling right into his lap.

“rafe, hi. i was just about to leave.. actually.”

he had been watching you carefully since the moment you walked in. rafe was a calculated man like that, purposefully standing in the corner of the kitchen to keep track of you throughout the night. he saw a kid— who was way too confident— make his advances on you by offering a drink, but you declined and poured your own instead.

‘smart girl.’ rafe muttered to himself, taking a sip of his beer as you turned him down. you strutted off shortly after that, which he soon followed.

his face twisted in confusion. “so soon? you haven’t even been here an hour.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say. it’s not like you could tell him why you were there in the first place. you already felt ridiculous for even considering this idea.

“just.. not really in the mood tonight.” you answered hesitantly. it wasn’t necessarily a lie, but something about rafe made you nervous. he was older than you by a few years, and you could feel it through his presence. the way he asserted himself, it made you feel small. submissive.

he nodded, his eyes taking you in as you sat there. you were wearing a little black top and a denim skirt so short that it should be illegal. you tugged down on it a bit in reaction to his gaze, the fabric not budging as it clung to your thick thighs. he noticed the apples of your cheeks turning pink at his stare.

rafe couldn’t help but smirk. you were so cute, so sweet. he liked seeing you like this— without sarah. how such a good girl like you could be so close with her was beyond him. what kind of friend was she to bring you here to get fucked by some stranger?

but he wouldn’t let that happen.

“i’ll take you to the house then. i can’t let you walk back this late.”

“no no, i’ll be fine. i-“

“that wasn’t a question.”

he reached out his hand, gesturing for you to grab it before you could protest any further. it would just be a quick ride back to tannyhill, right?

you exhaled, putting your smaller hand into his and letting him pull you off the couch. his fingers intertwined with yours as led you through the crowd, people’s eyes following as the both of you passed by. it was hard not to get attention being next to rafe cameron— girls wishing they were you and boys wishing they were him. you dropped your head hoping that no one would notice. that was doubtful.

the tension during the drive was thick. you felt his eyes on you more than the road, which had you squirming in the leather passenger seat. his car smelled like him— a mix of weed and cedarwood cologne filling your senses. you almost felt lightheaded with how nervous you were and he hadn’t even done anything.

on the other hand, rafe was loving every second of it. he had been dreaming of this moment before you were even single. his sisters pretty little best friend, always around but just barely out of his reach, was currently in the palm of his hand.

partynextdoor was playing on the radio, you could hear him humming along as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. you heard your phone ding with a text notification— from sarah.

sarah: hey i’m downstairs did you leave?

you: yeah, sorry i couldn’t find you

sarah: with who??

sarah: please don’t say brian

sarah: tell me if he’s hot at least

sarah: is his dick big?

“everything okay?” rafe broke the silence, gesturing to your leg that started to bounce.

“it’s sarah, wantin’ to know who i’m with..” you replied, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard to type out a response to her.

he placed his hand on your knee, his grip gentle but firm enough to stop your moments. “just ignore her.” he said it like a suggestion, but his underlying tone told you that it wasn’t. you couldn’t help but listen to him, powering off your phone all together.

he kept his hand there, rubbing small circles with his thumb before he decided to test you, slowly going up your thigh. the warmth from his hand went straight to your core, your legs subconsciously parting just slightly at his touch.

“rafe..” you attempted to hide the shakiness in your voice. he was still driving, his eyes set forward. it took everything in him not to stop and take care of you right there— parking his car off the dirt road and bending you over in the backseat— but he held himself back. not only out of respect for you, but he wanted to do it the right way. he had been waiting to have you for years, he could handle a few more minutes.

“when’s the last time you’ve been touched like this, sweetheart?”

his fingers were now lingering between your thighs, slipping past that excuse of a skirt and brushing over your white panties. “and tell me the truth, or i stop.” he coaxed, his middle fingers pressed through the fabric, it becoming wet with your arousal. you whimpered at his touch, ashamed that you were reacting so easily to him. it was as if he already knew your body— knowing exactly where and how to you touch without even looking.

“i- i don’t know.” you breathed out. your head was fuzzy with desire, a feeling foreign to you.

“i think you do.” he thumbed your clothed clit, your head falling back against the seat in response. “i heard you and sarah talking earlier. could’ve came to me instead, y’know.” he continued to rub over your heat, just enough to tease you to the point it was nearly unbearable.

rafe sped up the rest of the way home, his patience running thin with his cock straining in his shorts. you were even more impatient, bucking your hips into his hand to feel some relief. you were beginning to make a mess on the seat and his fingers weren’t even inside of you yet.

before you knew it you were being thrown onto rafe’s bed, your legs hanging off the edge as he stood in between them.

“such a needy lil’ thing, hm?” he ditched your soaked panties on the floor, running his calloused fingertips over your slit to lather them with your slick. he parted your lips— so pretty and pink and glistening just for him. you were perfect.

he circled at your clit, applying pressure to the sensitive bud. you were pulsating beneath him as he started to rub faster, your thighs trembling. he pressed his middle finger at your entry, sinking himself in down to the knuckle.

rafe warmed up your cunt a bit longer before adding a second digit, pumping both in and out of you with determination— your soft moans spilling out like music to his ears. “god, baby, you’re drippin’ everywhere..” you whined at his words, which only made him keep going.

he curled his fingers, your gushy walls engulfing him as he hit that special spot inside of you. you could feel everything— the metal of his rings hitting against your cunt, the heat of his breath on your neck as he nibbled at it, the coil in your belly tightening.

“rafe.. i- i feel like-“

“i know baby, it’s okay. i got you.” he mumbled into your ear before he brought your lips to his, kissing you like it’s all he could do to breathe. you tasted so pure, like a ripe summer peach on his tongue— and he just wanted to swallow you whole. he continued to suck on your bottom lip until it was swollen, only pulling away to watch you.

and the look he was giving you— hungry with desire— was it took before you snapped, cumming for what felt like the first time. he held your hips in place with his other hand, holding you down to ride out your high.

you were gasping for air at this point, your bottom mascara smudged from the tears that prickled from your eyes. rafe looked wrecked as well, face pink and his once perfectly laid hair now disheveled. you didn’t know why until you sat up and saw it, the outline of his cock prominent in his shorts. your breath hitched, your doe eyes widening at the sight.

he grabbed your hand and brought it over his length, guiding you to rub it back and forth. even through the clothes you could tell he was bigger than your ex, surely. the thought alone had you pulsating.

“don’t by shy, sweetheart.”

you unbuttoned his shorts, pulling them down with his boxers to free his erect member. it hit his stomach, the tip red and leaking pre cum from being pent up for so long. he was girthy, thicker than his two fingers that you could hardly take a few minutes ago.

still, you pursued. you reached down to your sopping cunt, cupping it to lubricate your hand and bringing it to his cock. he let out a groan as you stroked him, jerking your wrist in smooth motions.

rafe was in heaven. you seemed so shy and innocent at first, he felt almost wrong for corrupting you like this— that was until you took it upon yourself to lick up the vein of his shaft, taking him into your mouth. you began to swirl your tongue, flicking it at his head to collect the dribbled cum. you went further, one hand at his base until you felt him hit the back of your throat. he rutted his hips, grabbing a fistful of your hair in a halt. if you kept going like this he wasn’t going to last.

“need to be inside you.” his voice was filled with desperation. he was panting at this point, a string of saliva following when he pulled you away. “please.”

you couldn’t finishing nodding your head before he went straight to work, pushing you flat to the bed with his weight on top of you. he ripped off your shirt, unclasping your lace bra in one smooth motion. rafe loved the feminine physique, and he was absolutely infatuated with yours. your tits were perky, full cups that sat sculpted on you just like a roman statue. your tummy was plush with a shimmery belly ring, the curves of your waist and hips drawing him in.

he brought his mouth to your breasts, lapping his tongue over one nipple as he fondled with the other. he was so eager— sucking and twisting at them like he was trying to feed. you were mewling, twisting under him at the sensation.

he slid his cock over your puffy folds. “saving this pussy for me, weren’t you?”

he slipped in raw, slowly filling you up inch by inch. he tried to go easy on you, but fuck, the way you were clenching around him it was like you were begging for more.

you were so stretched out, so full, and he still hadn’t put himself all the way in. he was thrusting into you at agonizing pace, not allowing you to adjust to his large size. you tried to scoot away, the pleasure being too much to bear, but he held you in place at the waist. he watched you engulf his dick in satisfaction— a creamy ring forming at the base.

“so fuckin’ tight— shit.” rafe moaned, squeezing his grip on the flesh of your stomach which would surly have bruises by morning. he finally bottomed out, hitting your core with a smooth trust. he was splitting you open with no mercy as his room echoed with the sound of skin slapping skin.

“suckin’ me in so well, feel like a virgin. you sure you been fucked before?”

“not like this.” you barely choked out, turning your head into the sheets as he quickened his speed. your face was flushed— chin still covered in spit and brows furrowed together.

“mhmm, but this is what you wanted, isn’t it baby?” his voice was raspy, almost mocking. he was molding himself inside you, like you were made just for him— filling you perfectly as your walls took his shape. his tip skimmed your g-spot, making you cry.

he arched your hips off the bed, moving his palms down to the fat of your ass— kneading it as your pussy started to flutter around him. he could tell you were close, your bodies chest to chest as he pounded into you.

you let go, jolts running through you as you came around his length with the second orgasm coursing through you. you had your legs wrapped around him, milking him dry. he didn’t let up either, continuing to hit into you at a brutal rate.

“gonna nut inside you like you deserve.” his grunted with gritted teeth, burying himself inside of you. his movements stuttered as he reached his peak— cock twitching as he released, his cum spurting in you with thick, hot ropes. he stayed there for a moment, assuring you got every drop before finally pulling out.

he laid down next to you, heavy, ragid breaths leaving the both of you in sync.

“you won’t need to be celibate any more, sugar.”

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #frat rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut

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fetusgooseandjuice · 3 days ago

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Enamored

Pairing(s): Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: Your not so perfect attempts at having your first time with Natasha.

Warnings: Spicy and suggestive themes (not fully smut i’m so so sorry i just sucked at writing it)

Authors Note: This is another mini-oneshot to my fic “Soulmates”. I’d recommend reading that one before this for context to be able to grasp the storyline!

Authors Note Pt. 2: This took me entirely too long to write I know but I hope ya’ll like it 😭

Other mini-oneshots: Forever | Promise | Perfect

(Takes place after Natasha returns from her commission in the main story: Soulmates)

You were sat against the headboard of Natasha’s bed, reading the book you’d started earlier in the day when the knight finally emerged from the bathroom.

The top of her lounge shirt was damp from her wet, red hair despite her attempts to dry it with a towel. You shut your book after marking your place and set it on the nightstand, now more interested in your girlfriend.

“Did the shower help at all? Are you still feeling sore?” you asked.

“A little,” she tossed the towel in the laundry basket with a sigh, “I should’ve expected that, though. There was hardly any time to rest during the day and the beds on the ship are nowhere near as comfortable as yours.”

“Oh, Nat,” you cooed as she sat down at the foot of the bed.

Tonight was Natasha’s first night back from her overseas commission. After being gone for three weeks she’d finally returned a few hours ago and you couldn’t be more relieved to have her back with you.

You maneuvered yourself so you could sit behind her. Your hands made their way up her shoulders, quickly finding knots in the muscle so you began to massage them away.

She sighed again and you felt her relax back into your touch, “Is this helping?”

Natasha quickly nodded her head, “A lot. Thank you.” she said, so you continued your ministrations.

“So aside from the sore muscles, how did it go? Do you know if you’ve completed your training?”

“I don’t know yet, but Fury seemed pretty pleased with how everything turned out so I think I did.” the redhead said.

You shifted so you could look over the knights shoulder at her side profile. “That’s amazing, Nat, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, princess.” she reached a hand up to place it over yours and gave it a gentle squeeze, “But I won’t know for sure until tomorrow.”

“Well no matter what happens I’ll be proud of you either way,” you said.

Natasha turned her head to meet your gaze, but her eyes quickly flickered down to your lips instead. She’d gone torturously long without being able to feel them on hers.

The redhead closed the short distance between the two of you for a soft kiss. You paused your movements on her shoulders so a hand could cup the side of her face, your thumb stroking over her cheek.

After a moment you pulled away, but the young knight didn’t let you go very far when her arms snaked around your torso and her forehead rested against yours.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, her breath fanning over your mouth.

You tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as you looked between each of her green eyes. It wasn’t often that Natasha wore her hair down.

It was always pulled back into some form of a braid for her work, so you appreciated whenever you got to see the red strands fall freely.

“I missed you too.” you softly spoke, “I mean, if you couldn’t already tell with the way I barely gave you time to get off the ship before I jumped on you.” you both laughed.

Slowly, you leaned back in and connected your lips again. This one felt different compared to the kiss you’d just shared. It felt more passionate, as if the weeks spent away from each other were now catching up to you.

Natasha shifted her body to face towards you more, finding it easier as she no longer had to crane her neck. One of her hands left your waist and found purchase on the skin of your thigh left uncovered by your nightgown.

Much to your dissatisfaction she broke away from your lips, but you didn’t have to sulk for long when she began trailing kisses down your neck. You let out a shaky breath and allowed your eyes to shut, but you felt her stop once she reached your bare shoulder.

When you opened your eyes, you found her already looking at you.

“Is this okay?” Natasha asked. “I know we haven’t…you know…before.” she cringed at her awkwardness, “But we don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her in awe. At the way she never failed to look out for you and make sure you were comfortable.

“It’s okay, Nat. I want to.”

The redhead grinned at your consent and continued where she left off.

She slid the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder to make room as she gently nipped and kissed at the skin. The hem of it rode up on your thigh as her hand slowly inched higher and higher.

Your hand tangled into Natasha’s hair as your eyes fell shut again, a blissful sigh escaping you at the feeling of her. You felt her kiss a path back up to your lips, capturing them with her own as she began leaning over you. You took this as your sign to let her push you onto your back.

Just as her unoccupied hand fell to your back to guide you down onto the bed, there was a knock at the door. You’d barely gotten time to react before it swung open.

“Natasha, make sure you remember—” the voice began to speak yet quickly stopped after seeing the scene in front of them.

You jumped away from each other, creating as much space between the two of you as possible but it didn’t matter at that point. Melina stood in the doorway with her jaw dropped to the floor and eyes wide.

“Mom! What are you doing!? You do know it’s common curtesy to knock!?” Natasha rushed out, running a hand through her hair.

“I did knock, honey. Though, I didn’t wait for an answer. I see now that I probably should’ve…” she trailed off, glancing between the both of you.

You felt exposed under her gaze as you fixed the strap of your nightgown on your shoulder and pulled the hem down to cover your legs.

“Well did you need something?”

Melina now focused on her daughter, “I was just coming to remind you of the debriefing with Fury to go over everything tomorrow.”

“Yes, mom, I already know. I spoke with him about it.” Natasha said.

“Okay, I was just checking.” the woman explained as she began to make her way out of the room. “Don’t stay up too late, girls. And Y/n, please remember to cover up. Wouldn’t want anyone seeing those marks now would we?” she smirked before shutting the door.

Your hand instinctively came up to clutch your shoulder only to see that Melina was right.

A moment of silence passed when Natasha flopped backwards onto the bed with a groan.

You laughed at your girlfriend.

“I don’t suppose you still feel like doing this?” she asked.

You just shook your head and gave her a soft smile, “I think we should just stick to cuddling for tonight. I don’t particularly like the fact that your mother basically just watched you almost undress me.”

She chuckled, “Sorry, princess,”

“It’s fine. I liked it.” you admitted.

The redhead opened her arms invitingly with a smirk, “Good to know.”

You happily crawled into her arms and made yourself comfortable on top of her.

~ ~ ~

It’d been a week later when you guys tried again.

Your parents were hosting a ball at the castle as a charity event and despite your disinterest in functions like these, you obviously had no choice but to attend being the Princess.

What made it worse was Natasha telling you she wouldn’t be able to make it as her father had asked for her help with something.

Without her company it was difficult to avoid the elders that would question your future plans for when you become Queen, and the entitled kids of nobles who’d make terrible attempts at flirting although your relationship with the redheaded knight was well-known.

So that’s how you found yourself at the drink table for a much needed break from all the conversing. Though it was quickly cut short when Lady Hill had come to your side.

She came from a noble family whom your parents liked and always appreciated the help they provided whenever it came to the Kingdom. Through your families relations, you’d become friends with their daughter, Maria.

The brunette had always been a bit flirtatious towards you, though, that’s just how she was. Natasha on the other hand wasn’t very fond of that.

“Not enjoying the party, Your Highness?” she asked, reaching for a glass and taking a sip.

After taking a long gulp of your own drink you shrugged your shoulders, “It’s alright. I wish people would just start questioning my parents instead of me, but what can I do.”

“You could dance with me.” Maria smiled, “If people see that you’re occupied then they’ll have no choice but to leave you alone.”

Quickly, you shook your head and gave her an apologetic look, “Oh, that’s okay. I really should be getting back out there, but thank you for wanting to help.”

“Are you sure?” The brunette asked before smirking, “You know I’d make sure to give you a fun time.”

Before you got the chance to respond, hands covered your eyes and you felt a body against your back. You were about to push them away and scold the person until you heard them speak.

“Guess who,”

You would recognize that voice anywhere. Their hands fell from your eyes as you turned around to see your redhead smiling at you.

“Nat!” you grinned and wrapped your arms around her shoulders for a hug the best you could without spilling your drink on her.

“Hey, princess,” she said.

As her arms wrapped around you she made eye contact with the woman still standing there over your shoulder and sent her a glare, though Maria simply brushed it off.

“Lady Hill,” Natasha greeted her with a nod when you pulled away.

She returned the gesture, “Nice to see you again, Natasha. I was just asking the Princess if—”

“I heard you.” the redhead interrupted. “And I thought I heard her say that she was okay, so do you need anything else? I need to borrow her for a moment.”

Maria chuckled and shook her head, “Not at all. She’s all yours.” she smiled politely at the knight and watched as Natasha took your hand to lead you away, “I’ll see you around, Your Highness.”

You bade her goodbye before following your girlfriend. She’d dragged you through the crowd and towards a back exit of the ballroom. It was isolated and hardly anyone was back there.

When Natasha turned to you she was met with your face sporting a big grin. The redhead raised her eyebrows at your expression.

“What?”

“You know, I think this little war you have going on with her is all one sided.” you teased and the knight just rolled her eyes. “Maria is a good person and she respects us both enough to not actually try anything.”

“Well,” Natasha wrapped her arms around you to pull you towards her, “I guess I just wanted to give her an extra hint, and I’m happy to say she got the message.” You giggled and Natasha leaned in to give you a soft kiss.

It was short, but it still awakened the butterflies in your stomach. You pulled away with a sudden confused look and wrapped your arms around her shoulders.

“What’re you doing here? I thought you had something to do with your father.”

“I did,” she said, “But Yelena agreed to help him instead as long as I brought her food. And I’m glad I did so that I could stop Maria from trying to take what’s mine.”

You raised an eyebrow and a smirk took over your confusion as you leaned closer to her, “Oh, so I’m yours now?”

She closed the distance separating you even more as if it were a challenge, “You’ve always been mine, Princess.” Natasha whispered against your lips before connecting them with hers tenderly.

“Oh really?” you managed to mutter between kisses.

“Mhm.”

“Prove it.”

Your words made the redhead pause. She pulled away just enough to get a good look at your face to determine whether or not she correctly interpreted what you’d said.

The two of you hadn’t taken that step yet. When you tried before the last person who you would want to walk in, had walked in. But when the look in your eyes confirmed her thoughts, she smiled softly.

“Do you think anyone would notice if we left right now?” she asked.

You quickly scanned the room. Your parents were nowhere in sight. The elders who’d been pestering you earlier were immersed in yet another round of gossiping. Everyone seemed to be doing fine in your absence.

“I’d say we have a couple hours until I have to be back to start saying goodbye to all the guests.”

Natasha grinned, “I think we can make that work, yeah?”

“I think you might be right,” you giggled.

Giving her one last quick kiss to her lips, you took her hand into yours and made a B-line towards the stairs.

As you swiftly maneuvered through the crowd you avoided making eye contact with people as to not draw their attention. To anyone watching you in this moment from afar it would look as if you were on a mission they had no business interfering with.

The staircase had come into view and you were almost there, only for a figure to step out in front of you. You’d paused in your tracks so abruptly in order to stop yourself from running into them that Natasha had collided with your back.

“Y/n, darling! There you are, sweetheart. I’ve been looking for you!” your mother said.

You had to hold back a panicked look from taking over your features, and prepared to make up some type of excuse.

That you needed a few moments to get some air away from the party. Or that you suddenly weren’t feeling well and wanted to go up and rest for a bit.

But she hadn’t given you the chance to say anything when she continued talking, “Come with me, please. I have someone over here I’d like for you to meet.”

Words stuttered on the tip of your tongue as your mother was quick to wrap one arm around your shoulders.

“Mother, I—”

“Sorry to steal her from you, Natasha. She’ll come find you in a little bit.” she apologized to the redhead and your hand slipped out of hers as you were led away by your mother.

“It’s—” Natasha started to say, but at that point you two were too far away to hear her, “…Okay.”

Your head whipped around to look back at your girlfriend who stood there dumbfounded, “I’m sorry,” you mouthed to her.

Natasha just gave a small smile, letting you know that she wasn’t mad at you and watched you disappear from her line of sight.

What did it take to get some alone time in this castle?

~ ~ ~

The next time you tried was a few days later.

Your mother and father had left early in the morning, and would be gone all day due to a full schedule of council meetings.

Technically, you should have been at those meetings too. But you dreaded the idea of sitting through hours of political talk when you weren’t Queen and it wasn’t time for you to worry about those responsibilities yet.

In order for your parents to agree to let you sit this one out, you were to have a study day with Ms. Harkness instead.

She’d tutored you plenty of times when you were younger and not yet of age to begin fulfilling your duties. So it was a fair compromise.

Natasha on the other hand wasn’t exactly thrilled to know that you had the castle to yourself for the day, and yet you were too busy to have some alone time with her.

After a few sparring matches with Yelena in the courtyard that ended in the blonde quitting and dramatically accusing her of cheating, the young knight decided to check on you.

She navigated her way through the castle corridors until she reached the library where you usually study. However, she barely entered the room when Ms. Harkness appeared in front of her.

“It’s not often I see you in here Miss Romanoff,” the woman greeted.

The redhead kindly smiled, “I was actually just looking for Y/n. She is in here, right?”

“She is,” Ms. Harkness confirmed. Natasha attempted to move past her to find you, but the woman stepped in front of her again, “But the Princess is currently occupied and it’s best if her studies remained uninterrupted.”

Natasha huffed. You’d been cramped up in the library practically since the moment you woke up, so she hadn’t had a chance to see you yet.

“Could I just have a minute please?” the knight asked, “It’s kind of an emergency…” she added, hoping it would sway the woman’s decision.

Ms. Harkness eyed the young girl for a moment before humming, “Wait outside.”

Natasha did as told and waited outside the library, making herself comfortable leaning against a wall.

A few minutes must’ve passed when she finally saw you come out. You made eye contact with your girlfriend, and she noticed the almost panicked look on your face.

“Nat? Is everything okay? Ms. Harkness told me it was an emergency,” you said, clearly worried.

“Everything is fine, princess,”

“Then what’s—”

You didn’t get even halfway through your sentence before Natasha’s hand cupped your cheek to pull you in for a kiss.

The suddenness of it shocked you and your hands grasped at her forearms to steady yourself, but you quickly reciprocated nevertheless.

Her lips moved against yours tenderly and for a moment, everything around you was forced to the back of your mind.

She pulled away after a few seconds, but still hovered close, “Hi,” the redhead whispered.

You smiled softly, “Hi,”

Natasha leaned in again and you met her halfway. Her hands slid down to your waist to pull you closer and yours went up to her face as you deepened the kiss.

Your lips molded with hers perfectly, and you had no intention of returning to your studies anytime soon when Natasha was kissing you the way she was.

When air became a necessity, you parted again.

“So just to be clear,” you said as you attempted to catch your breath, “There’s not really an emergency? You’re okay?”

The redhead chuckled and rested her forehead against yours, “I’m okay, princess. Just wanted to see you.”

“That’s sweet,” you smiled faintly before pouting, your hands coming down to smooth out the fabric of her clothes on her shoulders, “But don’t scare me like that again, please.”

Natasha pecked you in apology, muttering a ‘sorry’. She’d planned to let you get back to Ms. Harkness then, but a gasp broke through the intimate moment.

“Oh!” one of the maids exclaimed and both of your heads whipped to look at the woman, “My apologies, Your Highness. I-I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll be on my way now.” she said and hurried away.

You shared a look with Natasha shared, and then your chuckles filled the silence.

“I guess we probably shouldn’t be doing this here,” the redhead commented.

Your teeth nipped at your lip as you thought for a second before fighting off a grin. Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed at the look on your face.

“What are you planning?”

You didn’t answer her.

Instead, you grabbed her hand and led her through the hallways until you reached the stairs. The knight didn’t question your motives, already piecing together what you had in mind.

When you reached your bedroom you shut the door and locked it, keeping that in mind from your past mistake. The moment you turned back to her, Natasha was already bringing you in for a kiss.

She walked you backwards, both of you breaking into giggles when you almost tripped over your own feet. Natasha placed her hands on your hips to steady you, and led you until your lower back bumped the edge of the dresser.

Her lips trailed down your neck in search of that spot she learned you liked. When she heard your breath hitch, she chucked against your skin.

Your hand gently tugged at her hair to pull her away and bring her in to kiss you instead. In a moment of boldness, your fingers trailed down and began fiddling with her clothes. That was when a thought came into the redhead’s mind that made her hesitate.

“Wait,” Natasha murmured and pulled back. Before you could panic she continued, “Isn’t Ms. Harkness expecting you? I don’t think we should do this right now if we have to be quick. I want to take my time with you.”

You smiled at the sincerity in her words. Your arms came up to wrap around her shoulders and pull her back into you.

“No,” you said, and your girlfriend looked at you confused, “I might’ve convinced her to let me off the hook for the rest of the day, so I’m all yours.”

Natasha smirked at the news and bent down to grasp the back of your thighs, lifting you into her arms. You yelped and tightened your hold on her as she walked over to the bed. She gently laid you on your back before crawling over you and smiling down at you.

Leaning in, she softly connected your lips and you smiled into the kiss. You couldn’t help but gaze into those vibrant green eyes of hers the moment you pulled away.

You were completely and utterly enamored by her, and the redhead felt the same as she looked at you.

“I am so in love with you,” Natasha whispered.

She beamed at the toothy grin on your face, “I’m so in love with you,” you said.

At that, she tilted her head down and you met her in the middle, not expecting to pull away for a while now.

~ end ~

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wvyik · 2 days ago

Text

nsfw alphabet. d.w. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

dean winchester x fem! reader

summary; my take on the infamous NSFW alphabet where each letter represents a different aspect of dean’s passionate, playful, and sometimes possessive side!

warnings; mdni! explicit content, mature themes, adult language, graphic sexual content, explicit descriptions of intimacy, kinky stuff, possessiveness, lowkey fluffy, sub! dean at times, but mostly dom! dean.

notes; here’s the template i used!! (slightly tweaked it) tbh i love writing headcanons sm im thinking of posting them more often. let me know if you liked this format!! at SOME points i lost the plot and wrote a whole ass fic.. but hey. this is my first time.

words; 10 667

A = AFTERCARE..

After a night of passion, Dean’s first instinct is always to make sure you’re okay. He’s gentle, tender, almost like he’s still in awe of you. He’ll pull you close, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, running his fingers through your hair as he mutters soft words of reassurance. Even in the aftermath of something intense, he needs you to know you’re safe, that you’re everything to him. He’s not about that “wham-bam” stuff. He’ll get you a glass of water, make sure you’re comfortable, and maybe even wrap you in a blanket while he quietly watches over you, his thumb tracing circles on your skin as you both catch your breath.

He’s the type to make it feel like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, and even though he’s usually tough and rugged, with you, he’s all heart. It’s about comfort, care, and making sure you feel cherished. It’s his way of showing that the connection doesn’t end after the heat of the moment; it only deepens.

B = BODY PART..

Dean’s hands— they’re his favorite body part, and not just because they’re strong or capable. No, it’s the way they feel when they’re touching you, when they’re pulling you closer, slipping under the fabric of your clothes, and tracing the softest parts of your skin. When it’s just the two of you, alone in that quiet space, his hands will roam over your body with purpose. He’s all about the slow burn, his fingertips brushing across your neck, making your breath hitch as he dips lower to the curve of your waist. He’ll take his time, working you up, feeling every inch of you as if he’s memorizing you, ensuring you’re completely in his control.

As for his favorite part of you? Dean can’t stop thinking about your thighs. When you’re alone, he’ll have you straddling him, your legs wrapped around his waist as he slowly moves against you, feeling the heat building between you two. Your thighs are soft, but firm, the perfect balance of strength and vulnerability, and when you press them together, it’s like a promise of something hotter. His hands will travel down, gripping your thighs, pulling you closer until he can feel every inch of you moving against him. He’s obsessed with the way your body reacts to him; your thighs pressing tightly against his sides as you rock against him, your breath shaky, your skin heated under his touch. He’s rough when he wants to be, but in those moments, when it’s just the two of you, he’ll make sure everything is slow, deliberate. Each kiss, each touch, each movement a way of savoring you.

C = CUM..

His favorite spot to cum is definitely inside of you.. Not just for the convenience of making less of a mess— it just feels way more personal. When Dean finally hits that point, it’s like everything just snaps. His hands are gripping your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you down on him. He’s moving deep, hard, every thrust bringing him closer to the edge. He can feel himself losing control as his body trembles, and when he finally releases, it’s rough and intense. You can feel it, that pulse deep inside you, as he’s coming undone, his grip tightening, his body jerking with each wave.

He’s not shy about it either.. he’ll tell you how good it feels, how he can’t stop because you’re just too good to let go of. And when he’s done, there’s no shame, he’s all over you, holding you close, whispering how amazing you are, not wanting to let you go even for a second. Dean’s the type to make sure you’re completely satisfied, whether that’s with kisses, gentle touches, or reminding you how much you mean to him, even after that intense release.

He’ll want to stay inside you for just a little longer, feeling that connection, letting everything settle between the two of you. But it’s not just about the act; it’s about the way he’s completely consumed by you, how every touch and every moan is for you, how your body makes him lose control in the best way.

Dean’s not just about taking; he’s all about giving too. When he’s got you underneath him, lips brushing along your neck, his hands guiding you as he kisses down your body, he knows exactly what he’s doing. His eyes are on you the whole time— he loves watching the way your body reacts to his touch, how your breath hitches as he moves lower.

When he finally gets to your thighs, he’ll take his time, teasing with his tongue, pressing soft kisses against your skin, before finally kissing that sensitive spot. He’ll take his time with you, making you feel like you’re the most important thing in the world. His tongue moves with purpose, driving you crazy, circling and flicking just the right way, making sure you’re feeling every bit of pleasure.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he’ll growl, barely able to hold back as he keeps moving, pushing you closer to the edge. He won’t stop until you’re breathless, trembling underneath him. He’ll make sure you hit that release, his lips and tongue working together, guiding you to that explosive moment. And when you’re finally lost, when your body spasms from that climax, he’s right there, feeling it with you, never stopping, never pulling away.

When Dean’s on the receiving end, you better believe he’s not quiet about it. He’s all about that slow, intense pleasure, and when you start to make your way down his body, his breath catches in his chest, a low groan escaping him. His eyes are on you, heat in his gaze, as his hands rest in your hair, but he’s not pulling you— he’s letting you take your time. He loves the anticipation, the slow build-up as you tease him, running your hands along his thighs, giving him just enough to drive him wild.

“C’mon, baby, don’t make me wait,” he’ll tell you, voice hoarse, his patience wearing thin as you hover just above him. But he loves the feeling of you taking control, how your mouth makes him lose himself in you. When you finally take him into your mouth, he’s lost. His head falls back, a moan slipping from his lips as he tries to hold it together. You know how to move, how to make him feel like he’s in heaven, your tongue working its magic as you make him see stars.

Dean’s not the kind to just lay back, though. His hips start to move with the rhythm, not in a desperate way, but in sync with your movements. His hands will grip your hair, gently guiding you, wanting to feel all of it. When you take him deep, he can’t help but let out a low curse under his breath, his body shuddering with pleasure. “Fuck, that feels so good,” he’ll mutter, completely lost in the sensation of you giving him everything.

When he’s close, he’ll tell you, voice rough and strained, “I’m gonna—shit—I’m close.” But he won’t rush it. He wants to savor it. He wants to make sure you’re giving him your full attention until he’s at his breaking point. And when he finally reaches that edge, when he’s spilling into your mouth, it’s pure bliss for him. The way you take it all, the way you look up at him with those hungry eyes; it’s too much for him to handle, and he can’t stop the way his body trembles with the release.

D = DIRTY SECRET..

Dean’s dirty secret? It’s not something he just tells you about. It’s something he keeps tucked away, buried deep beneath the tough guy act. But you start to realize it when you’re alone, when it’s just the two of you in the quiet of a motel room, the world outside forgotten.

Dean’s secret is that he loves when you take control, when you push him to his limits and make him beg for it. Most people would never guess it. Hell, Dean barely acknowledges it himself, but you see the way he looks at you sometimes, like he’s waiting for you to take the reins. It’s the way his voice goes low and rough when he whispers your name, the way his body stiffens in anticipation when you shift on top of him, taking charge. It’s the way he fights it, but you know— he’s completely fucking powerless when you take control.

He’s not used to it. Dean’s the one who’s always in charge, the one with the power in every situation. But with you? He’s different. He loves being dominated by you, in that subtle, almost teasing way. He loves it when you pin him down, when you whisper dirty things in his ear that make his heart race. He loves when you don’t let him speak, when you kiss him so hard he can barely breathe, all while you keep him trapped beneath you.

But the thing is, he doesn’t want to admit it, not to you, and especially not to anyone else. It’s his dirty little secret, the thing that’s so out of character for him. He’s too proud to openly admit that sometimes, he craves to be the one controlled, the one who’s helpless to your touch. But deep down, he knows you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and it drives him wild that he can’t stop wanting it.

E = EXPERIENCE..

Dean’s very experienced. This man’s been around the block a few times. He’s been in all kinds of situations, with all types of people, and let’s just say, he knows exactly what he’s doing. But here’s the thing— his experience isn’t just about the physical stuff; it’s about reading people, knowing how to make them feel wanted and understood. He’s learned what works, what doesn’t, and how to please a partner in ways that make them melt.

He knows how to take his time, how to build that tension, and when to slow things down. He’s got that natural rhythm that’s just right, making sure you’re comfortable, but also giving you exactly what you need when it comes to your desires. And when it comes to giving or receiving, he’s all about the details; the gentle touches, the teasing, the deep, intense moments. There’s no awkwardness with him. He knows when to press, when to pull back, and when to take things to the next level.

But don’t get it twisted, he’s not cocky about it. His experience comes from years of both hunting and dealing with personal stuff, and there’s something about his confidence that makes him so good at pleasing. He’s been around enough to know how to handle things, but with you, it’s not just about getting off. He wants to make sure you’re satisfied— emotionally and physically. He’s all in when it comes to giving you a good time, even if he keeps it cool on the outside.

Of course, there’s a soft spot when it comes to you. Because with the way Dean feels for you, he’d want to make sure everything is perfect. All that experience? It’s used in service of you, babe, making you feel like you’re the only person who matters. And trust me, when he’s focused on you, he’s a damn expert at making you feel amazing.

In a nutshell: Yes, Dean knows what he’s doing. He’s got the experience to back it up, and he uses it to keep you hooked, wanting more every single time.

F = FAVORITE POSITION..

It’s definitely the one where he’s in full control, making sure you’re completely at his mercy, but let’s be real, he likes mixing it up depending on how the night’s going. His go-to? Probably doggy style, hands down.

When he’s got you in that position, he gets to see everything.. every little movement you make, every expression that crosses your face. It drives him wild knowing he’s the one causing it. He’ll grip your hips, pulling you back into him as he takes his time, slow and deep. The way your body reacts under him? It’s like pure music to his ears, and that view? It drives him insane. He loves feeling you clench around him, knowing that every thrust makes you feel it even more.

But that’s not all; Dean’s also big on missionary when he’s feeling extra connected. He likes to look you in the eye, making sure you’re completely focused on him, feeling every inch of the connection. That intimate, slow, and powerful rhythm where he can feel your heart racing beneath his, his hands tracing your curves as he moves inside you— that’s when things get real intense.

And when he wants to switch it up, he doesn’t mind getting a little rough with you, flipping you over, having you straddle him or him taking you from behind while you’re bent over a surface— whatever drives the mood. The chemistry between you two? It makes him want to explore every possible position, and he’s down to try new things, especially when it means making sure you’re both satisfied.

At the end of the day, Dean’s favorite position is the one that makes you feel like you’re his, but it’s not about being possessive. It’s about that perfect connection. It’s about that sweet balance of passion and control. And trust me, he’s got plenty of ways to show it.

G = GOOFY..

Dean can definitely get a little goofy in the moment, especially when he feels comfortable with you. It’s like he knows he can let his guard down and just be himself. While he’s definitely the type to take charge and keep things intense, he’s got that playful side that comes out in the heat of the moment.

Sometimes, when things get heated and you’re both in the middle of it, he’ll throw in a cheeky comment just to make you laugh. He might tease you with a quick “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” or a smug little smirk while you’re on top of him, making sure he’s enjoying every second. His confidence lets him crack those playful jokes because he knows he’s got you hooked; and he loves seeing you blush when he gets a little too cheeky.

But it’s not all about jokes. Dean can also get a little goofy in the way he teases you physically. Light, playful taps on your ass, or that sexy growl he uses when he’s trying to rile you up. He’s got that natural, smooth way of mixing humor and passion that keeps you on your toes. He might even act like he’s serious at first, but then that mischievous grin pops out, showing you he’s not taking things too seriously.

It’s in the little moments— the way he’ll whisper something ridiculously sweet in your ear, only to follow it up with something teasing, like “Who’s the lucky one now?” He can switch between being intense and ridiculously charming in a second, making you laugh one moment, then melt the next.

But when it’s time to get serious, Dean knows how to flip the switch. If things get more intimate or passionate, that goofy side fades into the background, and he’s all about the connection. But even then, you’ll catch those little glimpses of humor, the way he looks at you with that playful glint in his eye, showing he’s not completely lost in the moment, he’s just enjoying it with you.

So, yeah, while he’s definitely got that serious, dominant energy, Dean’s no stranger to being goofy when the mood strikes. And honestly? It’s part of the fun. It keeps the vibe light, playful, and even more intimate. That mix of humor and intensity? It makes the connection between you two even hotter.

H = HAIR..

Okay.. Let’s start with Dean’s head. His hair? As we know; always on point. He’s got that signature messy, just-out-of-bed look that somehow always looks perfect. He keeps it clean, but a little rugged— like he doesn’t care, but deep down, you know he’s putting in just enough effort to keep it looking good. That shaggy, chocolate brown mess of hair frames his face in the best way, and he’s definitely not afraid to run his fingers through it when he’s frustrated; or when he’s trying to look extra good for you.

Now, when it comes to down there, oh yeah, Dean keeps himself trimmed. He’s not the type to go completely bald, but he definitely takes care of business. He keeps things neat, a little shorter, so everything’s clean and ready to go when it’s time for action. It’s just the right amount of scruff, leaving enough to tease, but nothing over the top. Dean’s all about being practical, but he’s also aware of how much it adds to the vibe. He knows exactly what works for him and what makes his partner want more.

Well, we already know Dean’s got that signature rugged, manly look, and it shows down there too. He keeps the hair trimmed but not overly maintained, just enough to keep it real— natural, just like him. The way he takes care of himself shows that he’s confident in his own skin, but he’s not obsessing over perfection. So.. the carpet may not match the drapes exactly, but damn, it’s a close call— because Dean doesn’t do anything halfway. It’s got that perfect balance of masculine and a bit of a secret that only you get to see, something that makes you want to dive deeper, take your time, and just worship every inch of him.

As for you, being completely honest— He wants to feel the texture when his lips press against your skin, that slight pull of hair beneath his lips as he moves lower. The perfect amount; not too much, not too little. When he feels the light trim and the soft brush of it against his fingers or mouth, it drives him wild. He might tease you about it when he’s between your legs, maybe give a little chuckle before running his fingers through the soft, trimmed hair, and whispering “God, you know this is exactly how I like it” as he looks up at you, hungry eyes burning with desire.

If you’re the type who prefers to keep things smooth, that’s good too. Because when Dean’s down there, he’s all about pleasure, and he’ll take his time, loving every inch of you. But give him just a hint of natural with a little softness, and that’s his weakness. He’ll get lost in the feeling of your skin, fingers grazing over every curve, savoring the way the hair feels when it’s just enough to give him that little extra something. It drives him crazy when you arch your back, a slight gasp escaping your lips, all because he’s finding that sweet spot— the perfect mix of rough and smooth, like he’s savoring the experience of you more than just the action itself.

Dean’s preference isn’t about rules, it’s about what turns him on— and you’re turning him on anyway. Whether you like a clean, smooth look or a little natural fuzz, he’s just as obsessed with how you feel about it. But if you’re asking him, that little hint of trim? It’s just the right level of perfection to make him lose control.

I = INTIMACY..

Dean might have that tough, gruff exterior, but when it comes to intimacy? He’s got a side to him that will absolutely melt you. It’s not just about the physical, rough and wild moments (though those definitely exist)— it’s about how he makes you feel in those quiet, tender moments between. When you two are wrapped up in each other, it’s like the world disappears.

He’s the type who can’t help but stare at you with that softness in his eyes when he’s touching you; gently running his hands up your arms, tracing your jaw, just taking you in like he can’t believe you’re actually there with him. There’s this feeling he gives off, like he’s not just having sex, but connecting with you on a level that means so much more than just the physical release. He’s completely present.

When he’s inside you, it’s like he’s not in a rush, savoring every inch of the moment. There’s no slamming or pushing for a fast release. Dean’s all about drawing out the sensations, making sure you’re feeling every single second of him. Whether it’s kissing you deeply, whispering sweet things in your ear, or taking the time to gently stroke your body while he’s inside you, it’s all about showing you just how much you mean to him in that moment.

Dean doesn’t need to say a word to make you feel loved. His hands, the way he looks at you, the way he moves; it all speaks louder than anything he could say. His kisses are deep, passionate, but with that soft, tender edge that shows he cares. He’s not just trying to get off; he’s trying to make you feel everything in that moment. Every caress is deliberate, every movement intentional.

When he pulls you close after, he’ll hold you in his arms like you’re his world, his heartbeat steady against yours, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on your skin. He’s always checking in with you, making sure you’re okay, both physically and emotionally. It’s that soft, romantic side of him that you rarely get to see, but when it’s just you and him? That’s when he shows you all the affection and love he’s been hiding under his tough exterior.

Intimacy with Dean is a beautiful mix of gentle passion and heart-stopping moments. He’ll bring you closer, make you feel desired in ways you didn’t even know you needed, and leave you breathless with every second of it. But it’s never just about the sex— it’s about him connecting with you, body and soul, and making you feel like you’re the most important thing in his world.

J = JACK OFF..

Dean’s a man of many talents, and when he’s alone? He’s not shy about taking care of his own needs. Let’s be real: the man’s got a lot of built-up tension, and he knows how to relieve it.

Dean’s not a guy who needs to jerk off all the time, but if he’s been going through a stretch where he’s missing you or hasn’t been able to see you in a while, he’s definitely going to be indulging a little more frequently. If he’s on the road, and he’s away from you for a few days, you can bet that he’s getting in at least a few sessions, or when things have been tense between the two of you— he’s not going to forget about how much he wants you.

But it’s not just about quick relief.. it’s about thinking of you. It’s those moments when he’s missing you, or when he’s worked up after seeing you earlier, maybe after a steamy, flirtatious interaction.

When he’s in the mood, Dean doesn’t rush it. He’s got that slow, deliberate rhythm as he strokes himself, thinking about you. He’s imagining your body beneath his, your moans in his ear, your hands gripping his back as he takes you deeper. He’ll bite his lip, letting his thoughts of you fuel the fire, and if he’s really worked up, he might even mumble your name, like it’s a prayer that makes him hit that spot just right.

Dean knows exactly how to handle himself. His hand moves with just the right pressure, and his breaths get quicker, heavier, as his thoughts go straight to you; how you feel, how you look when you’re under him. He might even get a little rougher with himself when he’s thinking of you taking control or teasing him.

But when he’s about to come? It’s like his mind flashes to those intimate moments with you— the way your body shudders beneath his touch, how you look when you’re lost in pleasure. He’ll let out a groan, quick and low, as he finally releases, knowing exactly how much he wants you, how needy he’s gotten for you. And afterward? You can bet he’s not ashamed. He’s used to getting his hands dirty, but he’ll always clean up and shake it off like it’s just part of the job.

So yeah, Dean gets off on his own, but it’s always with you in mind, a little fantasy to keep the fire burning when you’re not around.

K = KINK..

Dean’s a man who’s lived through a lot, and he’s had his fair share of experiences, both good and bad. So, when it comes to his kinks, he’s definitely someone who knows what he likes, and he’s open to a bit of variety. His kinks are rooted in power dynamics, control, and a deep desire to connect, but with that edge of raw, primal energy. Here’s a taste of what gets him going:

Power Play: Dean’s a man who likes to be in control, especially when things get heated. He loves the way you melt under his touch, how your body responds to him taking charge. Whether it’s gently pushing you down on the bed or pinning you against the wall, Dean gets a thrill out of seeing you submit to him. But don’t think he’s all about dominating the moment— it’s about mutual control. He’ll let you take the reins when it suits, but only when he’s good and ready for it.

Biting: Dean is into the idea of claiming you. He’s not afraid to bite, nip, or mark you with hickeys. It’s about showing everyone that you’re his. He wants to leave his mark on your body, something that says, ‘Yeah, you belong to me’, but it’s also a sign that you’re his desire. When he bites your neck, pulls you closer, or marks your inner thighs, it’s all about showing you that you belong to him in more ways than one.

Roleplay: Honestly? I think Dean’s got a thing for slipping into different characters. Sometimes it’s a hunter, sometimes it’s someone a little more dangerous. He loves the idea of playing a different version of himself, or making you act out a scenario where he’s your protector, your savior, your everything. The idea of pretending you’re strangers or something forbidden really gets him going, and he’ll do whatever it takes to bring that fantasy to life.

Spanking & Impact Play: Oh, he loves a little spanking. It’s not about punishing you; no, it’s about showing you just how much he can make you feel with a single slap. He’ll get rough, but in a way that keeps the pleasure high. He might not do it every time, but when he does, he knows exactly where to land his hand, just enough to make you gasp in surprise, followed by a whimper of need.

Tease & Denial: Dean’s great at this. He loves making you wait, teasing you with a kiss, a touch, and just enough attention to leave you desperate. He’ll get you so close to the edge, but then he pulls back, just to make you ache for more. It’s a power play, sure, but it’s also about making you feel like you’re at his mercy.

Dirty Talk: Dean’s mouth might be full of jokes and sarcasm, but when it’s just you two, his dirty talk can be downright filthy. He’ll whisper the dirtiest things in your ear, telling you exactly what he wants to do to you, making sure you know how much he needs you. It’s not just about what he says— it’s the way he says it. That low growl of his? The way his breath shudders in your ear? Yeah, you’re done for.

Bondage: Dean’s not afraid of a little bondage. He’s into tying you up in the heat of the moment, making you submit completely to him. Whether it’s just a simple tie or something more elaborate, he loves the visual and the control it gives him. The way you can’t move, the way he gets to explore every inch of you while you’re completely at his mercy; it’s a massive turn-on for him. Dean will tie you up just enough to keep you restrained, but not so tight you’re uncomfortable, making sure you’re both safe and, well, fully into it.

Morning Sex: Dean loves the feeling of waking up next to you. There’s something about the vulnerability of early mornings that makes him want to make love to you before the world even has a chance to wake up. He’s gentle at first, but it doesn’t take long before things heat up, and he’s got you pressed against him, his hands roaming over your body. There’s something so intimate and raw about the way he makes you feel in the morning, like you’re his whole world, and he can’t wait any longer to be inside you.

Praise kink: While Dean loves being the dominant force, he also enjoys giving you praise in the heat of the moment. There’s something about watching you lose control that fuels him. He’ll whisper sweet, dirty things in your ear, making you feel desired, telling you how good you’re being for him, how you’re his. It might be a little submissive kink on your end, but Dean’s all about making you feel like you’re pleasing him; especially when you’re desperate for his approval. And, let’s not forget. That man has been through some stuff— he loves when you give him little nods of appreciation in bed.

Public/Risky Sex: There’s a bit of a thrill in doing it in places where you shouldn’t. Whether it’s a quickie in the back of the Impala when you’re on the road, or sneaking around while Sam’s off doing his own thing, Dean loves the danger of possibly getting caught. The risk makes everything hotter. The adrenaline rush of having to keep quiet, of needing to be fast, but also wanting to drag it out as long as possible? It makes his blood pump harder, and he knows it’s just as much a turn-on for you as it is for him.

Dean’s kinks are all about power dynamics, teasing, and intense connection. He enjoys the balance between pleasure and pain, control and surrender. But no matter how much he pushes your limits, he’s always going to be there, making sure you’re feeling safe and cared for in the aftermath. Dean might be rough around the edges, but when he’s in the moment, he’s all about you.

L = LOCATION..

Let’s be honest— Dean’s not picky, but he definitely has his favorites. This man is always on the road, always moving, so he’s got to get creative when it comes to where he gets down to business:

The Impala: This one’s a classic. The backseat, the hood, hell—even the front seat if things get desperate. The Impala is Dean’s home, and there’s something about having you in his space that makes it all the more intimate. The windows fogging up, the leather creaking under your bodies, the absolute risk of getting caught—he lives for it. Plus, he loves having you ride him in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel behind your back, knowing damn well he’ll never be able to sit there again without thinking of you.

Motel Rooms: Dean’s been in hundreds of cheap, crappy motels, but when you’re there? They don’t feel so bad. The shitty wallpaper, the questionable beds— none of it matters when you’re beneath him, moaning his name. The fact that you two don’t stay in one place for too long? It makes every night feel urgent, needy, like he has to take full advantage of every second before you’re off hunting again. And let’s be real; he loves when you get loud, and in a motel, there’s no one to stop you.

Against the Wall: Not necessarily a location, but Dean loves pinning you against a wall. Whether it’s a motel wall, the side of the Impala, or even in the bunker when Sam’s not around (or when he is, if you’re being reckless), there’s something about having you trapped between his body and the hard surface that drives him insane. He loves the way you cling to him, the way you have to hold on, and the power he feels when he has you right where he wants you.

Showers: Dean’s a sucker for shower sex. He loves the intimacy of it; hot water, steam filling the air, the way your bodies slide against each other. He’ll stand behind you, hands roaming everywhere, whispering filthy things in your ear as he helps you brace yourself against the tile. It’s slow, deep, unrelenting—and after? He gets to wash you off, take his time kissing every inch of you, and maybe go for another round while you’re still warm and slippery.

Hood of Baby: Dean is a romantic at heart, even if he doesn’t admit it. There’s something about pulling off on a deserted road in the middle of the night, laying you out on the hood of the Impala, and having his way with you under the stars. It’s not just about the sex; it’s more about the feeling of freedom, of being untouchable, of knowing that in that moment, it’s just you and him against the world. Plus, he loves the way the cool metal feels against your skin, the contrast between the chill of the night air and the heat of your bodies moving together.

Literally anywhere risky: Dean’s got a thing for danger. Maybe it’s after a hunt, when the adrenaline’s still pumping, and he needs to feel alive. Maybe it’s somewhere you shouldn’t be— an abandoned house, the back of an alley, somewhere public where the risk of getting caught makes it all the more thrilling. He’s careful, but he also loves the idea of you trying to keep quiet, of knowing that someone might hear, but being too lost in the moment to care.

M = MOTIVATION..

Dean might act all cool and in control, but the second you push the right buttons? He’s done for. Here’s what gets him going the most:

Confidence (or Shyness—Either Works on Him): There’s nothing sexier to Dean than watching you take charge. If you walk up to him, grab his collar, and whisper something dirty in his ear? Immediate problem in his jeans. He loves knowing you want him just as much as he wants you. If you tease him, pulling back from a kiss too soon, giving him that look that says ‘come and get me’.. he’s going to get you.

But on the flip side? If you’re a little shy, a little hesitant, biting your lip like you’re unsure if you should make the first move? Yeah. That also destroys him. He loves pulling that shyness out of you, making you let go of your inhibitions until you’re gasping his name. The idea of turning you into a whimpering mess under him? That’s all the motivation he needs.

Your Body, Specifically the Parts You Don’t Think About: Dean lives for the little things; the curve of your hips when you walk past him, the soft skin of your thighs when he rests his hand on them, the way your neck tilts when you throw your head back laughing. It’s never just the obvious things that get him going, it’s the casual, effortless sexiness you don’t even realize you have. And if you’re wearing something that hugs your figure just right? He’s barely holding himself together.

Your Voice— Especially When You’re Whimpering for Him: Dean’s a sucker for sounds. The way your breath hitches when he gets too close, that soft gasp when he drags his fingers down your spine, the way you moan when he finally gives you what you want. If you let out the smallest whimper? He’s done for. It strokes his ego and sets him on fire at the same time.

And if you talk dirty to him? Ohhh, babe, he loses it. Whisper something in his ear, tell him what you need from him, what you want him to do to you? He’s throwing you on the bed before you can finish your sentence.

Seeing You Get a Little Frustrated: Dean loves a good challenge. If you’re trying to stay in control but he keeps pushing you right to the edge, and you start getting desperate for him? That’s it— that’s the moment he snaps. He loves teasing you, making you beg, watching you squirm under his touch. The more you fight it, the harder it is for him to hold back.

The Way You Look After a Hunt or Workout: Dean is an absolute animal for the way you look after any kind of physical activity— your hair a little messy, your skin flushed, your body all warm from exertion? It just makes him think about what you’d look like beneath him, all breathless and needy. And if you’re wearing something a little tight, maybe some sweat dripping down your chest? He’s gripping the steering wheel way too tight trying to keep it together.

Final thoughts? You are his motivation. It doesn’t take much; one look, one touch, one word, and he’s already aching for you. And when he finally gets his hands on you? He’s making sure you feel every ounce of that tension he’s been holding back.

N = NO..

Dean might be down for a lot, but there are definitely things that cross the line for him. For one, he’s not into anything that makes you uncomfortable— if you so much as hesitate or seem unsure, it’s over. He’s always paying attention, making sure you’re into it just as much as he is, and if he ever got the feeling you weren’t? He’d pull back immediately, no questions asked.

Pain that goes beyond a little roughness is a hell no for him. He’s all about grip marks on your hips, the occasional love bite, maybe even pinning your wrists if you’re feeling particularly desperate; but hurting you? That’s not even on the table. He might love making you squirm, teasing you until you’re begging, but it’s never about making you feel bad. He needs to know you’re enjoying every second of it, even when he’s driving you crazy.

Another hard no? Anything that makes things impersonal. Dean might be rough, dirty, and insatiable, but at the end of the day, there’s always feeling behind it. He’s not the type to treat sex like some casual transaction, when he’s with you, he’s with you. So anything that makes it feel detached— things like calling you degrading names in a way that isn’t playful, acting like you’re just some random hookup, or taking the emotion out of it— completely kills the mood for him. He needs that connection, that fire, that undeniable feeling that you’re his, and he’s yours.

And lastly? Anything that risks losing control too much. Dean can be dominant, sure, but he’s never going to push things to a point where it feels like he’s not himself. He’s got his demons (literally and figuratively) and he never wants to cross a line that makes either of you feel unsafe. The moment things stop being good for you, they stop being good for him, too. Because at the end of the day? He’s not just in it for the thrill— he’s in it for you.

O = ORAL..

Teased you guys a bit already in C, anyways! Dean lives for oral; giving, receiving, all of it. He’s ridiculously good at it, too, because let’s be real, the man is competitive in everything he does. If he’s going down on you, it’s not just to get you off— it’s to wreck you, to leave you so overstimulated and shaking that you can barely remember your own name.

When Dean’s between your thighs, he’s dedicated. He takes his time, really enjoying it, like it’s his favorite meal. He’s got this cocky little smirk when he first gets down there, like he already knows he’s about to ruin you, and he loves hearing how fast he can pull those desperate little sounds out of you. He doesn’t just focus on one thing— he’s teasing, using his fingers, dragging his tongue in slow, deliberate movements, only to switch things up when you least expect it. And the eye contact? Devastating. He’ll look up at you with those green eyes, pupils blown wide, and if you’re gripping his hair, pulling him closer, moaning his name? That’s it. He thrives on that, moaning into you just to watch you fall apart. And he will not stop until he’s got you trembling, gasping, completely lost in it.

As for receiving? Dean loves it, obviously, but what really gets him isn’t just the feeling, it’s the way you do it. If you’re teasing him, dragging your nails down his stomach, taking your time just to watch him get frustrated? Immediate weakness. He’s a sucker for eye contact, for feeling your lips around him while you look up at him with that innocent little gaze that he knows is anything but. And if you go slow at first, making him beg, gripping his thighs or holding his hips down when he tries to thrust? He’s losing it. He loves when you make him work for it, when you edge him just a little, force him to ask for more. But the second you actually give in and let him have it? He’s loud, moaning your name, throwing his head back, gripping the sheets or your hair because it just feels too good. And when he finally can’t take it anymore? He’s dragging you up to kiss you, growling something filthy about how good you are for him, and immediately flipping you over to return the favor.

Dean loves oral in every way possible. But most of all? He loves making sure neither of you walk away unscathed.

P = PACE..

Dean’s pace is everything— fast and rough when he’s desperate for you, slow and deep when he wants to savor it, but always intense no matter what. When he’s needy, when he’s been thinking about you all damn day and finally has you underneath him? There’s no patience left. He’s pushing you up against the wall, knocking the breath out of you, gripping your hips hard as he pounds into you like he’s got something to prove. He loves hearing the way you gasp, the way your nails dig into his back, how you whimper his name like you can’t take it— but he knows you can. He wants to ruin you, wants you to feel him in every inch of your body the next morning, to know that no one—no one—could ever touch you the way he does. His thrusts are deep, relentless, his fingers gripping the back of your neck as he growls in your ear, “This what you wanted, sweetheart?”

But when he wants to take his time? That’s a whole different kind of torture. He starts slow, just to watch you squirm, rolling his hips into you deliberately, dragging out every stroke, making you feel every inch of him. His hands are everywhere; on your waist, your thighs, gripping your wrists above your head just to keep you from pulling him in faster. He knows exactly what he’s doing, watching your face, drinking in every little gasp and moan, smirking when you whine for him to move faster. But he won’t— not yet. He’ll tease you, whisper filthy promises in your ear, telling you exactly what he’s gonna do to you once you’re begging for it. And the moment you finally do? The moment you can’t take it anymore? That’s when he snaps. That slow, controlled rhythm disappears, and suddenly he’s pounding into you like he’s been holding back for hours, because he has.

It doesn’t matter if it’s fast or slow, rough or deep— when Dean’s inside you, it’s always toe-curling, mind-numbing, earth-shattering. He’s not just fucking you; he’s taking you, owning every single sound you make, making damn sure you know who you belong to. And when he finally pulls you close, hips slamming against yours, whispering your name like it’s the only thing he knows? You don’t stand a chance.

Q = QUICKIE..

Dean is all about quickies; he thrives on the thrill of them, the urgency, the way you barely have time to think before he’s got you pressed up against the nearest surface, unbuckling his belt with that cocky little smirk. He loves that rushed, desperate feeling, where there’s no time for slow teasing, no time to strip completely, just pure, raw need.

He’s the type to pull you into a supply closet at a dive bar, shove you up against the Impala, or drag you into the motel bathroom while Sam’s in the other room, covering your mouth with his hand as he growls, “Gotta keep quiet, sweetheart.” And even though it’s rushed, even though it’s all about getting off as fast as possible? He never half-asses it. His pace is still devastating, his hands still gripping you tight, making sure you feel every second of it. He gets off on the idea that you can’t wait— that you need him now, just as badly as he needs you.

Quickies happen a lot with him.. before hunts, after hunts, during hunts when the tension gets too high and he just has to do something about it. And he doesn’t care where— against the Impala with the doors barely shielding you from the outside world, in a bar bathroom, even in the backseat if you tease him too much on a long drive. Hell, if you so much as look at him the right way, he’ll pull you into the nearest empty space and take care of it right there.

But the best part? The way he acts completely normal afterward, like he wasn’t just wrecking you two minutes ago. He’ll walk out of the room, running a hand through his hair, giving you that smirk while he adjusts his belt, acting like he didn’t just ruin you in record time. And if Sam or anyone else notices you looking thoroughly wrecked? Dean just chuckles, winks at you, and mutters, “What? Can’t help it when my girl looks that good.”

R = RISK..

Dean is definitely down to take risks— he thrives on a little danger, and when it comes to you, he’s got a filthy, adventurous side that’s always looking for new ways to keep things interesting. He loves the thrill of getting caught, of doing something he shouldn’t be doing, of knowing that you’re both toeing the line of what’s acceptable and what’s downright reckless. He’s not gonna do anything that makes you uncomfortable, but if you’re game? He’s all in.

Like i mentioned— Public stuff? Big yes. He’s got a thing for taking you somewhere risky; against the Impala with nothing but the darkness to hide you, in a bar bathroom with music thumping outside, in the backseat while Sam’s off getting food. He lives for those moments where he has to slap a hand over your mouth, whispering in your ear, “Be good for me, sweetheart. Don’t wanna get caught, do we?” But you both know he’d get off on the idea of someone almost hearing.

As for trying new things? Dean is curious, and if you suggest something? He’ll at least consider it. Bondage? He’s into the idea of pinning your wrists, maybe tying them up if he’s feeling particularly possessive. He loves control, but the idea of you having the upper hand sometimes? That’s dangerous in a way that excites him. Teasing him, making him work for it, putting him in a position where he has to beg? He’d never admit how much he likes it— but the second you try it, he’s hooked.

But at the end of the day? The biggest risk for him is losing control. He likes things intense, rough, even reckless. But there’s a limit. He never wants to take things too far, never wants to cross a line where it stops being about both of you. So yeah, he’ll push boundaries, he’ll test limits, he’ll get filthy, but he’ll always pull back if you need him to. Because for all the risks he’s willing to take, the one thing he’ll never gamble with? You.

S = STAMINA..

Dean has insane stamina. Like, we’re talking borderline superhero levels of staying power. He’s not the type to just rush through it and call it a night; when he’s into you, he’s in it for the long haul. You’ll see him go for multiple rounds, no problem. He’s the kind of guy who’ll keep going until you’re absolutely spent, and even then, he might give you a second wind— because Dean? Dean knows how to make it last.

After the first round, he’s not slowing down. In fact, he might get even more fired up, his confidence only growing as he sees you fall apart for him. And the thing is, he doesn’t just go fast and hard and get off quick; he’s got control, so he can pace himself while still making sure you’re writhing under him. He’ll adjust his rhythm, slow things down when you need it, build you back up, only to throw you back into the fire with his relentless pace.

If it’s been a long day, a stressful hunt, or just a case of too much tension between you two, he can go for hours. He’ll go until you’re on the brink of exhaustion, making you beg for him to stop or giving you exactly what you want. But even after you’ve had your fill, he’ll still pull you in for more, teasing you about how perfect you are, how you look so fucked out beneath him. The way he looks at you, all sweaty and breathless, tells you he’s not done, not even close.

He loves the challenge, loves showing you just how much he can handle, and every round is another chance to make you shatter for him. He’s not the kind of guy who taps out early, he’s in it for as long as it takes to make sure you’re both satisfied. So yeah, stamina? He’s got it in spades.

T = TOYS..

Dean’s not opposed to using toys, but it’s not something he needs all the time. If he’s in the mood to experiment, he’s down, and he might surprise you by pulling something out of his bag. He doesn’t have a collection or anything flashy, but he’s got a few items stashed away for when the moment feels right. Maybe it’s a vibrating toy, something to use on you while he’s taking his time with your body, or maybe it’s a blindfold or a set of handcuffs; something to tease, to heighten the sensation, and get you begging for more.

When it comes to using them on you, Dean loves to take control. He’ll slip a toy inside you while he’s kissing you, watching your face as the pleasure builds and he takes his time with you. He might tell you to keep quiet, to stay still, while he moves the toy slowly, getting you worked up while he strokes your skin. He’s into it, watching how you react, getting off on the way you squirm, the way you beg him for more. It’s not about the toy itself, it’s about how it adds to the power he has over you.

If Dean’s ever using a toy on himself? It’s probably just a quick solo thing when he’s away for a long stretch of time, maybe after a particularly stressful hunt. But honestly? He much prefers the real thing. Toys are fun for when he’s feeling a little extra, but nothing compares to the way you feel wrapped around him. So, yeah, toys are in the picture occasionally, but they’re more of a spicy bonus rather than a regular go-to.

U = UNFAIR..

Dean is a master of teasing. It’s practically in his DNA. He loves to get you worked up, make you beg for him, and he absolutely thrives on the power he has over your body and your reactions. There’s nothing he loves more than seeing you squirm, the way your breath catches when he drags his fingers over your skin just a little too slowly, the way your eyes roll back when he whispers something filthy in your ear. He’s got a wicked sense of humor, and teasing you? It’s his favorite game.

He knows exactly what drives you wild, what makes you ache for him— and he will absolutely milk that. He’s the type to pull away right when you’re getting close, watching you whimper and squirm in frustration, before he grins and says, “Not yet, baby.” He’s totally aware of how badly you want him, how desperate you are for that release, and he loves keeping you on the edge, giving you just enough to keep you hooked but never quite enough to make you snap. He knows it drives you crazy, and that’s exactly why he does it.

Sometimes, when he’s in the mood to be a little extra sadistic, he’ll barely touch you, just enough to make you itch for more, but never enough to actually give you what you need. He’ll tease you with his hands, with his lips, maybe even with his words; telling you how good you look, how he can’t wait to ruin you, only to pull back again, leaving you desperate for him.

It’s not that Dean is being mean.. he’s just having fun, enjoying how you fall apart in his hands. And the best part? The moment you finally get that release, it’s worth every second of the teasing. When he finally lets you have it, when he finally gives in— it’s explosive, mind-blowing. And he’s got no problem doing it all over again, because teasing? That’s just part of the fun for him.

V = VOLUME..

Dean is definitely loud in the heat of the moment. He’s not the type to stay quiet, especially when things are getting heated. His moans, grunts, and low growls fill the room, getting deeper the more intense things get. He’s not shy about expressing how much he’s enjoying himself, and the sounds he makes are like fuel to the fire, only making you want him more. His voice gets rougher as he gets closer, the way he groans your name sounding almost desperate, like he can’t get enough of you.

He’ll growl when you move just the right way, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper when he’s trying to keep himself under control but failing miserably. When he’s on top of you, he’ll grunt in time with his thrusts, his hands gripping the sheets or your skin, as if he needs something to ground him. When he’s kissing you, he can’t help but moan into your mouth, the sounds deep and needy, telling you just how much he wants you.

And when you really hit the right spot? You’ll hear him— loud and clear. He’s not shy about letting you know how good it feels, and it’s a total turn-on to hear those ragged breaths, the way his voice cracks when he says, “God, babe… you’re so tight.” He might even get more vocal as things go on, grumbling something filthy in your ear like, “You’re making me lose control.”

In the heat of it all, Dean’s volume is as much a part of the experience as everything else. His sounds only add to the intensity, making everything feel real, making every movement feel like it matters. And when it’s over? He’ll probably be panting, chuckling, or murmuring how perfect you are, still trying to catch his breath from all the noise he made.

W = WILD CARD..

Dean loves watching you. When it comes to it, Dean is absolutely mesmerized by every little thing you do. It starts off slow— he’ll catch you in moments when you’re unaware, when you’re just going about your day, and he can’t help but let his gaze linger. Maybe you’re getting dressed, stretching after a nap, or adjusting yourself on the couch, and he’ll just stare, his eyes locked on you like he’s memorizing every curve, every movement. There’s something about seeing you unaware, just being your natural, beautiful self, that drives him absolutely wild. He might not say anything, just look at you with this low, dark expression that makes you feel hot under his gaze.

But it’s not just the little moments— he loves watching you when you’re aware, when you know exactly what he’s doing, and the tension between you two gets electric. He might make you stand in front of him, just so he can admire you, his eyes moving over your body, drinking you in. When he’s getting you undressed, he’ll slow things down, taking his time to look at you, making sure you feel exposed and desired. Every inch of your body is a masterpiece to him, and he’s all about seeing it, touching it, taking it in.

When you’re in bed together, he’ll love when you’re on top, especially when you’re riding him or grinding down on him— because he can watch every movement you make, the way your body reacts to him. He’ll watch the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the way your eyes flutter shut when he’s hitting the right spot. He’ll groan under his breath, watching you move, maybe even whispering things like, “That’s it, baby, just like that,” or “God, you look so fucking good like this.”

But it goes beyond just the act; he loves watching you get worked up when you’re teasing him too. If he’s in the middle of it with you, like a slow, sensual buildup, he’ll make you strip for him or slowly touch yourself in front of him, just to see how desperate you’ll get for him. Watching you get lost in your own pleasure, seeing the way you react to his touches, his words, is like a drug for him. The more you get lost in him, the more he gets turned on, and he’ll keep pushing you, keeping that slow burn going until you can’t take it anymore.

For Dean, the act of watching is an extension of the control he has— he loves to see you fall apart under his gaze, to see you lose yourself in the moment. It’s a form of foreplay in itself, a way for him to build tension, to draw things out before he finally gives you the release you crave. The more he watches, the more addicted he gets to the sight of you, and it becomes this unspoken dance, a game where he’s always a step ahead, enjoying how you react, how you need him.

X = X-RAY..

Dean’s confidence in this department is off the charts, and he knows he’s got something to be proud of. He’s not the type to brag, but when you catch a glimpse, you definitely don’t miss it. He’s got a solid, nice size that makes you ache to touch him, with just the right amount of thickness and length to hit every right spot. He can make you shiver with anticipation just by pulling down his jeans, letting you see it all before he lets you touch, before he lets you do anything.

He’s big enough to make you take a deep breath, to make you want to prepare yourself, but he knows how to use it, how to give you just the right amount of pressure, just the right angle. And the best part? He’s more than willing to build you up, letting you take your time with him, watching you as you slowly trace your fingers down his length, his breath catching every time you get too close.

And alright, babe, let’s be real. Dean’s got a size that’s definitely above average. We’re talking about around 7 to 8 inches. He’s thick too, enough to stretch you just right and make you feel every inch of him, pushing all the right buttons. He’s got that perfect length and girth that makes every thrust feel deep, filling, and intense. When he’s inside you, you can feel it, and you can’t help but gasp when he hits that spot that drives you wild.

But it’s not just about size— he knows how to work with what he’s got. He’s slow, deliberate, using every inch of himself to maximize the pleasure, to make you beg for more. He’s got that perfect balance of everything, and when you feel him, when you take him in, there’s no mistaking that he knows exactly what to do with it.

Y = YEARNING..

Dean’s sex drive is through the roof. This man is always hungry for you; whether he’s been working on a case all day or just had some time to himself, his need for you is almost constant. He’s got that deep, insatiable yearning, like he can’t get enough of you. It’s not just physical— there’s something emotional tied to it too. He’s always looking for that connection, that intimacy, and he craves the release you give him. He doesn’t shy away from taking things to the next level whenever the moment feels right.

He’s the type to get touchy and needy, even in public. A lingering hand on your waist, a kiss on the back of your neck when no one’s looking. Dean will always find a way to sneak in his desire. But when it comes to the bedroom (or wherever you happen to be), he’s like a man possessed, eager to claim you and make sure you know just how much he wants you. He’ll go for round after round if you’re both up for it, each time a little more intense than the last.

If you’ve been apart for any amount of time, the moment you’re alone? It’s like a switch flips, and he’s all over you. He’ll get you worked up in seconds, kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in forever, his hands roaming all over, eager to feel you again. You won’t have to wait long before he’s all in, fully driven by that yearning to have you, to feel you, to make you feel as good as he does when he’s with you.

Z = ZZZ..

After everything’s said and done, Dean’s not the type to just crash immediately— but it doesn’t take long. If you’ve had an intense round of sex, he’ll be exhausted, and it’s not uncommon for him to be a little out of breath, still feeling the high of it all. He might pull you close, his arm wrapped around you as you both try to catch your breath, and once the adrenaline fades, he’s pretty much out. Dean’s a heavy sleeper, so after he’s satisfied, he’ll be out like a light, snuggling you in his arms with a content, relaxed sigh.

He’s got a calming way about him after sex; almost like it’s his way of grounding himself. You can feel his body relax next to you, and it’s like he just melts into the bed, not really caring about the world outside. If you’re still awake, though, he’ll lazily pull you into him, wanting to keep you close, maybe whispering something sweet or teasing you about how perfect you were, before his eyes start to flutter. It’s that perfect balance between pleasure and peace— and soon enough, you’ll feel his breath even out as he drifts off into a deep sleep, his body completely satisfied and at rest.

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artemisia-musings · 2 days ago

Text

A Broken Man Can Love Again

Minors DNI! 18+ only

Summary: Leon is tasked with training a new agent. He vows to protect her, but doesn't expect to fall for her.

Tags/Warnings: Fem reader, no use of Y/N, suicidal thoughts, violence, protective Leon, smut, trauma dumping lol.

Note: I've been super depressed lately so this fic has been kinda therapeutic to write. Protective Leon makes my heart flutter. Also this is my first time writing smut! Hope you like it <3

Leon Scott Kennedy worked best alone. It was easier that way, safer. He found it was often easier to work if he didn’t have some soft-hearted inexperienced rookie trailing along after him. He couldn’t stand to get attached to them, only for them to perish. He had seen far too many good men and women die at the hands of evil. The weight of every death hung heavy on him, a reminder of his failures to do what he had long ago promised to do. Save everyone. If he can’t even save his goddamn team, how is he expected to save the world?

Seven years since Racoon City, seven years since his autonomy was stripped away. He supposed it was for the best, although Leon couldn’t help but feel jealous of those who had to choose what to do with their lives. Claire was never given the choice between death or service, no, she got to run off and play humanitarian. He gritted his teeth, knowing he was being unfair. Of course, if Claire had known leaving him and Sherry would have resulted in them being kidnapped she would have helped. He tried not to hold it against her. He tried to remind himself that at the very least, he was still helping the world, saving it from those who would seek to destroy it. But as he walked down the halls of whatever government agency he was aiding that day, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hatred for those who had been given a choice to be there.

Most people he came into contact with at work didn’t even believe in B.O.W’s. And why should they? The government wiped the slate clean every time, burying the events so that the world wouldn’t panic. Very few government agents knew the horrors of the bio-weapons, and even fewer were properly trained on how to deal with them. The survival rate for agents like himself was low, to say the least. Hell, Leon felt like he had seen most of them die himself. Ripped apart, crushed like a bug, necks bitten and torn. He had become so desensitized to gore and violence over the years that it hardly even phased him anymore. Leon worked best alone, so his annoyance when it was announced he would be training a new rookie was astronomical.

“Hunnigan, you have to be joking right? I’m the last guy they want training someone,” he argued, pacing the office of perhaps the closest thing he had to a friend in the government.

Ingrid Hunnigan, ever the level-headed individual, merely shrugged. “They thought your experience with B.O.Ws, along with the recent success of your Spain mission, made you the best candidate to train her.” Hannigan paused from clacking at her keyboard.

“If things go well, they will most likely make her your new partner.” She said it so casually as if this wasn’t a tremendous update.

Their relationship was one built off of duty. Ever since his mission in Spain last year, he had taken a liking to the no-nonsense woman. She let him complain and whine about his job; about his loneliness. And while she couldn’t do anything to help him, she was able to provide him with a small amount of validation and comfort. The field support agent was perhaps the only person aside from his higher-ups who knew of his forced involvement in the agencies.

“If she lasts that long,” Leon grumbled under his breath. Hannigan cast him a sour look but Leon shrugged it off, knowing he didn’t get a say in the situation- he never did. Choice wasn’t something in his job description, if he had a choice he wouldn’t be here at all. Or would he? For the past seven years, he had been trained to be an agent, trained to be the perfect weapon against eldritch abominations created by capitalistic psychopaths, and before that he had spent years at the police academy, training to serve. All his adult life he had been taught to serve and obey, and he was pretty damn good at it too. An obedient little soldier, ready to die for his masters. If Leon had a choice would he still be here? He couldn’t fathom the possibility of a normal life anymore, not with the knowledge that the world was so corrupted and ugly, ready to implode at any moment. Leon never had the option to choose this career, why anyone would be beyond him?

Mumbling a goodbye, he left his friend before returning to his own office. He slumped down in the chair, booting up his computer. Might as well figure out who his partner is anyway. Leon knew it was a bad idea to get attached, but curiosity killed the cat. Pulling up her file, he was surprised to see how young she was, not even past her early twenties yet. Most recruits tended to be older, and more experienced in military combat and whatnot. An unease washed over him as he read her file closely, a pang of anger sparking in his chest. The girl was in a similar boat as him. Wrong place, wrong time. Welcome to the club, kid. She had been present during an isolated virus outbreak at a University football game and had the unfortunate accolade of being one of the few survivors. Anyone with the capability to stand up to an infected tended to capture the attention of the government. Leon gritted his teeth, trying to calm the rage that brewed inside him. Had they blackmailed her into agreeing to join? Threatening her family, her own life, if she didn’t comply? He hadn’t even met her yet and he was already miserating over her.

Leon looked closer at her photo, taking in the saddened but hopeful spark in her eyes. Was she trying to see the bright side of the situation? Did she think she would get to be a hero? Leon let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair as he tried not to dwell on the potential of losing another person, another partner, another friend; the heart can only handle so much. “I’ll try and keep you safe” he murmured to himself, glancing back up at the photo on his screen. This time it would be different. It had to be.

_______

It was a sunny day when he met his new partner. Leon stood in the training room, rays of light beaming through the windows as a suit-clad man escorted the young woman in, no doubt her handler. Leon sucked in a breath, remaining stoic as they approached, trying to calm his racing nerves. Despite what he might tell others, Leon wasn’t exactly well-versed in talking to women. He used to consider himself a smooth talker in college, but ever since he left the academy, his exposure to flirting opportunities had been limited, to say the least. The closest he had gotten to flirting was with Ada last year in Spain. Can it be called flirting when you have a knife to their throat? However, one night in seven years was still a losing streak in his eyes.

The nameless suit briefly introduced the woman, whom upon hearing her name called, hesitantly reached out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Agent Kennedy,” she greeted awkwardly.

Leon huffed a chuckle, an eyebrow quivering in amusement as he slowly reached for her hand. “Please, just call me Leon,” he insisted, shaking her hand. It was soft, not yet hardened by callouses, and her grip was weak. Hands that had not seen battle. They shouldn’t see battle at all. She shouldn’t be here to begin with.

As the agent departed, Leon took in the sight of his new trainee. He had been told she had been put through basic military training, but it would be up to him to prepare her for the unpredictability of bio-weapons. Without hesitation, he unsheathed his knife, slashing it toward her and she yelped in surprise, arching backward to avoid the blade.

“What the hell?!” she protested, dodging yet another attack from him. Her movements were clumsy, but fast- he could work with that.

“You think a bio-weapon is gonna give you a heads up when it’s about to kill you?” He retorted, his knife nicking her cheek. “You think a corpse is gonna ask permission to bite you? That a mutated beast is gonna wait for your turn?” The girl grits her teeth, dodging and weaving his slashes. “You have to be ready for anything because these things will not hesitate to kill you.” His blade came into contact with her arm as he knocked her down and she fell with a grunt, glaring up at him. Leon bit back his tongue, ignoring the way her frustrated look pained him. It was for her good, he couldn’t let her training be easy, not if she expected to live through the next few years. As much as Krauser was a psychotic sadist, Leon couldn’t help but admit that his brutal training methods had been useful. He reached out his hand, the young woman hesitating before taking it.

“ That’s one hell of a hello,” she grumbled, and a smirk formed on Leon’s mouth. He pulled her up to her feet, giving her a pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t take it personally,” he chuckled softly. “Now, let’s go get you bandaged up.”

____________

The seasons start to change and Leon starts to dread going to work less. Despite the colder nip in the air, he feels warm, and eager at the prospect of seeing his rookie. She has acclimated well to her new role, and while Leon wishes he could punch the son of a bitch who forced her to enlist, he can’t help but feel a spark of gratitude that she was here.

The rookie isn’t overtly chatty, and Leon can tell she still doesn’t fully trust him. He can see it in her eyes, like a deer eyeing a wolf. She’s polite and respectful, dutifully calling him honorifics and obeying commands, but Leon isn’t fooled.

There is snow in the air as he makes her run through an obstacle course. After all, not every mission she’s sent on is going to have pristine weather. She’s miserable, he can tell even from afar. She trudges through the snow, hauling herself over wooden walls, leaping over logs, and swinging from a rope. By the time she practically collapses over the finish line, her ears and nose are tinged red from the cold, and he can see her breath in the cold winter air.

“You took too long,” he said plainly, checking his stopwatch. “You took nearly five minutes, you can’t pass unless you do it in under two.”

The girl is panting, trying to regain her breath. She glances at Leon, a look of annoyance plastered clear on her face. “Fuck off” she wheezes, and a bead of sweat rolls down her forehead.

Leon can’t help but laugh at her crass words. He remembers how difficult it is, trudging through the snow or mud through the finish line. He’s lost count of how many times he’s done this over the years, how many times Krauser pushed him until he was at wit's end. Leon doesn’t want to be a cruel footnote in the history of her life. He doesn’t want her to look back on this chapter of her life with disdain as she remembers him. Leon isn’t sure of what he wants, or what he needs to give up to admit what he suspects deep down. He shakes his head, trying to push any conflicting feelings down deep inside him, burying this fleeting hesitation along with the rest of his hopes, dreams, and suppressed emotions. Leon isn’t here to get sentimental, he’s here to make sure this rookie doesn’t get murdered on her first mission.

“One more time” he orders, looking away from her and back over to the snow-covered course. “After that, you can take a break,” Leon adds, almost hesitantly. He shouldn’t be soft with her, but as her face lights up at the prospect of being able to rest, he can’t help but feel his heart flutter with a palpitation of happiness. He watches as she takes off once more, a newfound sense of energy overtaking her as she maneuvers the course. Leon can’t help but feel mesmerized as he watches her in a trance-like state, a surge of pride washing over him as she sprints over the last obstacle, gasping for breath as she crosses the finish line.

“One minute and forty-six seconds,” he said, stopping the timer as she smiled triumphantly.

“Nice to know your reward motivated, perhaps from here on out I’ll carry a little bag of treats for you,” he snarks, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips as she rolls her eyes at him.

“Woof” she responds dryly, “Now I believe I was promised a break?”

Leon nods, smiling to himself as he leads her towards the concrete building. “Let’s go rookie, I’m pretty sure the dining hall made hot chocolate,” he says.

“Is it good?” she asks, trailing after him.

“Not at all,” he admits. She laughs, throwing her head back as she does so. Leon can’t help but stop in his tracks, admiring her beauty as the snow falls around them.

__________________

It’s a quiet night, far too quiet for Leon’s liking. It’s the kind of silence that puts him on edge, reminiscent of a calm before the storm. He knows deep down he’s safe in this military facility, that there is no monster lurking in the dark shadows of his room, but he can’t bring himself to fully believe it. He tosses and turns in a light slumber, waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing and mouth agape. Nights like these aren’t uncommon; he's used to waking up in a panic. Not even in sleep can he escape the ghosts of his past, the terror that has plagued him for years. The line between nightmare and reality doesn’t exist for him, and he dreads the prospect of sleeping again. He pushes himself out of bed, his body aching from the thin mattress as he throws on a random t-shirt. He ran out of his hidden liquor supply a few weeks ago, but perhaps the kitchen has something that could calm his nerves. Leon feels weak admitting that alcohol is one of the few things that allows him to temporarily forget his trauma. He’s a man on a mission as he slinks through the halls of the base, careful to be quiet. He’d hate to have to explain to a commanding officer why he was out at this time. Sorry about that General, I was just looking for some spare booze cause I had a nightmare! That’d go over well. The kitchen is unlocked and seemingly abandoned as he peeks his head in, making a beeline to the cupboards. Lady Luck is on his side as he finds a small bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Bingo. The sound of sniffling startles him, shooting his head up to see the rookie curled up by a window, moonlight pouring down over her as she meets his gaze.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Leon asked, trying to keep a fragment of authority in his voice. It comes out cracking, his voice still husky from sleep and raw with emotions.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “You?”

“Tried to sleep, didn’t go over well,” he mumbled, grabbing two glasses. “Care for a glass?” he asks, already pouring one for her. He knows the answer.

“Please” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. Leon knows this look all too well. He pours them both a hefty shot, placing a glass in front of her as he takes the opposing seat to her. The rookie grabs the glass, swirling its contents around as she drinks deeply.

“I can tell you want to say something, might as well get it off your chest,” he offers, drinking from his cup. When he was in the academy Leon used to hate straight liquor. It burned his throat and made his eyes water, stinging on the way down. Now, Leon enjoyed the burn, it reminded him he could still feel. He didn’t even flinch any more as he drank it.

“You wouldn’t understand,” the rookie sighs. Leon can see that her eyes are glassy and bloodshot, with heavy bags under her eyes.

“I might be the only one who does,” he countered.

The rookie doesn’t say anything at first, just looking at him with a haunted expression. “I had to shoot my friend,” she said, turning her gaze to the window. The moonlight shines down on her, casting her in an ethereal glow. “One of those infected bit her, tore a chunk right out of her arm. She swore up and down that she was fine, but after a little bit she had to sit down,” she paused, pursing her lips as she got lost in the memory. “I was holding her hand when she died, was with her to the end. But then she came back, thought maybe I was going crazy, that maybe God was looking out for me. Then she looked at me with those pale dead eyes and lunged at me. Had to put a bullet in her head.” The girl tensed, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“You did the right thing,” Leon assured her. The rookie doesn’t look very convinced, just shaking her head. “I had to shoot my boss,” he murmured in exchange. “First day on the force back in ‘98, I was wandering the halls of the Racoon City police department when I found him. Never even got a proper chance to meet him, everything had gone to shit by the time I had arrived,” he paused to chuckle dryly. “His name was Marvin, only knew him for a few hours, but he died saving me. I wouldn’t be here without him.” Leon paused, feeling a lump in his throat. He quickly took a sip of his whiskey, not wanting to cry in front of her. “He turned too and came back as one of those creatures. Had to shoot him, right in the head,” he sighed, feeling his eyes dampen with tears.

“Sometimes I think about all the ways I could have helped him, how maybe if I had just done something differently he would still be alive. God, maybe if I had gotten there sooner I could have saved more people..” he trailed off, realizing he was rambling.

He clears his throat as he notices she is staring at him, a pitiful look on his face. No, it wasn't pity. Leon was far too familiar with pity, he faces it damn near every day. He can hear their hushed whispers in the office as they huddle around the water cooler, casting glances at him as he passes by. His story is infamous in the agencies he visits. Leon isn’t some fabled hero or even a person. He’s a tragedy that people love to revisit. He can’t let the past die, not when it’s become so woven into his sense of self. The girl doesn’t regard him in pity, but rather a look of mutual sorrow and misery. She doesn’t try to dab at her tears as they begin to fall more freely.

“It was my fault my friend died,” she said, her voice thick with choked-back sobs. “I was the one who had dragged her to that game, where they released the virus,” she sniffles. “It was chaos, the stampede to leave the arena must have been worse than the infected. All you could hear was screaming, an endless roar of it. All I could focus on was her hand, gripping it to make sure she didn’t get lost in the sea of people. We were both so hopped up on adrenaline we didn’t even notice she had gotten bit,” she had to pause to take a deep breath, and regain her composure.

“Swat team had come, every police officer in the county too,” she shakes her head as if trying to get rid of the memory. “Not that it made much of a difference, pretty sure most of them perished in the end. I grabbed a gun off of a fallen cop, and the two of us managed to get away from the crowd.” Her face scrunches up as she recounts the night. “If I hadn’t made her go, she’d maybe still be alive.”

“It’s not your fault she died,” Leon said softly, hesitating before reaching his hand out to grasp hers. “We can’t ponder on the what-ifs, at least that’s what I read in one of those psychology magazines.” This makes her chuckle, her lips curling into a small smile as their eyes meet. It’s a strange way to bond, trauma dumping in the middle of the night, but it feels as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, making it a little easier to breathe. Moonlight drapes over them and Leon wishes he could freeze time.

______

Gunshots cut through the silence as Leon observes the rookie shoot. Her brow is furrowed with determination, a scowl on her lips as attempts to shoot the targets in the head. Body shots at best might stun an infected, and probably won’t do jackshit against a larger mutated beast. Headshots guarantee damage to some extent at least. Her posture is perfect—confident, determined—but there's a flicker of something else in her eyes, something that catches his attention. Anger, maybe? Or frustration? The gunshot rings out again. Another headshot. The cluster of bullets digs deep into the skull of her target, her scowl morphing into a satisfied smirk at the small victory.

“Not bad,” Leon said, a strange sense of pride welling in his chest. “You know your way around a gun.” She pauses, lowering the weapon as she turns to look at him. Her expression shifts into something he can’t quite place.

“Thanks, the only thing my dad ever taught me,” she said, huffing a dry laugh. “Hated it at the moment, but I suppose I’m thankful now.” Her words are flippant although her body has tensed up.

“Didn’t get along so well I take it?” Leon questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall. He can feel a familiar pang in his chest, the tug of commissary.

“That would be an understatement,” she rolls her eyes, Leon watches her carefully as she clicks the safety on and places the pistol on the table, her fingers lingering on the cool metal for just a fraction of a second too long.

“He was better than some fathers... but looks like I got served a helping of daddy issues anyway. He died a few years back, sometimes I’m almost thankful he passed before..” she trails off, gesturing to the room. Her words hang in the air between them, far more intimate than she probably intended. Leon stays silent for a moment longer than usual, not because he doesn’t know what to say, but because he’s unsure if he should say anything. There's a softness in her voice he didn’t expect. He struggles to remember his father, his family was taken from him when he was little. Sometimes if he tries hard enough he can see flashes of his face and feel the warmth of his embrace. But that’s all they are. Flashes of his past.

“I get it. Doesn’t always go the way we want, does it?” Her gaze flickers over to him, catching his eyes for just a moment, and that’s when Leon feels the change in the air. The weight of the conversation lingers, and the quiet moments stretch longer between them than either of them is comfortable with.

“It never does,” she says at last, sighing as she combed her fingers through her hair. “What about you? You close with your old man?”

“Old man died along with the rest of my family when I was a kid,” Leon says with a shake of his head. He pauses, searching through the distant memories as he tries to recall what his father was like. “I don’t have any bad memories of him, but don’t have many good ones either. He’s more of a feeling that haunts me.” The rookie just looks at him with an unreadable expression, as if she’s scanning his face.

“I guess we’re both haunted,” she says at last, breaking the silence between them. Leon can’t help but feel his lips tug into a smile. Vulnerability is not something that comes easily to him these days. It’s a weakness, something that can be used against him. Open yourself up too much and people are bound to steal bits and pieces from you. However, around the rookie, Leon can’t help but feel his walls weakening, baring his scars to her. He knows he should feel terrified to let anyone see the broken pieces of him, but all he can feel is relief that someone can see the real him.

_________

Leon can feel his heart in his throat as he sits down in Hunnigan’s office. It’s like a lump he can’t swallow, his esophagus tightening as if he’s about to choke. He knows why he was called here and it’s a moment he has been dreading since the rookie was assigned to him. He watches silently as his friend and colleague flips through the reports that he has provided on her, updates on her training and progress. The decision to send her into the field. To risk her life, to trust her on missions that could end in bloodshed or worse. He watches, almost disassociated, as Hunnigan flips through the reports on her progress.

“Everything looks good. Excellent, even,” she says, her voice smooth, confident. She adjusts her glasses, casting a rare smile in his direction. “You must feel proud.”

He just shrugs, unable to calm the nervousness swelling in his stomach. “I’m ecstatic,” he grumbles gruffly. He knows he’s being rude, she’s congratulating him on doing his job. He trained her and turned her from a survivor to an agent deemed worthy of missions. But Leon hates the idea of her out there in the field, risking her life. Too many what-ifs float through his mind, the unpredictability of their line of work fueling doomsday scenarios in his head.

Hunnigan doesn’t miss the bite in his tone. She glances up, her brow furrowing in mild concern, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she returns her focus to the papers in front of her, her fingers tapping lightly against the desk.

“I’m sure she’s ready,” he mutters under his breath, but it doesn’t sound convincing, even to himself. Leon’s hands twitch, itching to grab something—anything—to release the frustration building inside him. He can feel his stomach twisting into knots, and the air feels too thick to breathe.

“Leon, you did everything you could,” she says, her tone more measured now. “You trained her. You gave her the tools. Now, it’s up to her.”

Leon huffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His jaw clenches. “Yeah? And what happens when it’s not enough? When the situation’s too much for her? You know how unpredictable this job is. I know how unpredictable this job is.”

He stands up abruptly, pacing in front of her desk, every step fueled by the tight knot of anger and fear in his gut. His voice rises, rough with emotion. “ I didn’t sign up to watch her get torn apart, to watch everyone I fucking care about die!” hd snaps. “I did it…to protect people, to save lives. How many lives have been lost because of me? Because of my failures?” His voice trails off, the anger morphing into bitter sorrow. Finally, he grits his teeth and mutters, “I’m not letting her get killed out there.”

Hannigan smiles faintly, but it’s not one of triumph. More like understanding. “Then trust her, Leon. She’s ready. And she’ll prove it to you.”

He opens his mouth, ready to argue again, but something in her expression stops him. With a sharp exhale, he takes a seat again, tension still coiled in every muscle. It will be different this time.

________

It’s a quiet night, one of those rare peaceful moments that Leon always savors. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration, a recognition of the hard work and training that had earned her a spot among the rest of them. She had passed, she was ready for missions, ready for the chaos and carnage that came with this job. And yet, all Leon could think about was the heavy weight of what that meant: ready to die. He takes another gulp of whiskey, the burn settling somewhere in his chest. He had taken her to a nearby bar, and it by no means was an elegant establishment. The decor was dated and dusty with the patrons even more so. Leon couldn’t help but find it charming, however.

She’s sitting across from him, smiling, talking about the future, trying to hide her quelling nerves. The dim lights of the bar cast shadows over her face, her body swaying slightly as she tapped her finger along to the beat of the old jazz music that permeated from the dusty jukebox in the corner. She sips at her beer, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes as she notices him staring at her.

“Do I have something on my face?” she asks, suddenly self-conscious as her hand rises to dab at her lips.

He shakes his head, his lips tugging into an easy smile. “Do you want to dance?” he asks suddenly, his voice low and steady, almost like he wasn’t giving himself the chance to second-guess it. Her eyes widened a fraction in surprise. He hadn’t been one to make impulsive moves, especially with her. Still, there’s something in the way she holds her gaze that makes his stomach flutter. A chuckle escapes her, and she leans back slightly in her chair, putting on a dramatic sigh.

“Smooth,” she teases, but she doesn’t hesitate. She slides her palm into his, letting him pull her up with a small, amused shake of her head. “But I guess I’ll accept.”

“I’m hurt,” Leon says, gasping in mock offense as he pulls her gently toward the dance floor.

“And here I thought we had something special!” He spins her around as he pulls her close to him, hands resting on her waist as they sway to the beat. A soft laugh bubbles out of her, warm and light, before she looks up at him, the playfulness in her eyes softening for just a moment.

“We do,” she says quietly, her voice taking on an almost shy edge. “I don’t think I’ve been able to properly thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

The words hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Leon pauses, his heart skipping a beat. “Don’t mention it,” he says with a smile. His hand tightens slightly around hers, but he doesn’t let go. “You’re a damn good agent. You’ve earned everything.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes are focused on his face now, as if in a trance. His breath catches in his chest, and for a moment, the music around them seems to fade into a dull hum. It’s just the two of them now, dancing slowly, the rhythm of their steps matching the thudding pulse in his own heart.

Her hands slide up his arms, fingers brushing the edges of his shoulders as she pulls him into an embrace, He can feel the warmth of her body, the soft thumping of her heart against him. Leon’s own heart picks up speed, not used to such physical displays of genuine affection.

The distance between them feels like it’s finally being bridged. Something unspoken lingers in the air, a fragile tension that neither of them can ignore anymore. His hands find her waist, and he pulls her just a little closer, feeling the slight hitch in her breath as she melts into him.

She stays quiet for a moment, her body moving gently with his, the music guiding their movements.

“Leon,” she whispers, her voice low but sincere, “I don’t think I ever said it, but… I trust you. More than anyone.” A lump forms in his throat, and he closes his eyes for a second, steadying himself. He pulls back just a bit, enough to look into her eyes.

“You don’t have to say it,” he says, his voice soft. “I know.” The space between them, once filled with the unspoken tension of their roles, seems to vanish. And in that moment, Leon realizes that it’s not just trust they share—it’s something deeper, something neither of them had been willing to acknowledge until now. Her hand rises to his chest, pressing against his heart as their faces draw nearer. The soft glow of the bar lights paints everything in shades of amber, casting them in a haze of fleeting warmth.

“Leon,” she murmurs again, her voice barely a breath against his lips. He doesn’t need her to finish the sentence. He can feel it in the way her body trembles just slightly as she leans in, her lips so close to his that he can almost taste the moment. Without thinking, he closes the distance between them, the kiss soft and gentle, all things Leon isn’t used to. It’s a slow realization, a gradual unfolding of something neither of them had anticipated—but something that feels right. The world outside this quiet moment fades away. All that’s left is the warmth that Leon has been seeking for so long.

_________________

Everything has gone to hell. It started decently enough, a typical case of a B.O.W that had been released into the public, stirring up terror. It all went wrong so fast. An explosion rattles through the air, and Leon can feel the heat from the flames, the force pushing him back, falling onto the pavement. The pain from the impact is forgotten as he hears her scream. His heart stops beating as he forces himself up, finding a new sense of adrenaline as he races to where the creature has her cornered. It's one hell of a genetic fuck-up, a big hulking beast with withered skin that looks like it’s been burnt. Elongated limbs drag on the ground as it skulks toward her, bony claws decorating the tips. Its gnashing teeth are aimed at ripping into her throat, the beast's mouth is already stained with blood. Leon can’t think straight, the only thing in his mind is her. He races as fast as his strained legs can carry him, a wild frantic look in his eyes as he raises his gun to aim. The creature has her in its grip, its mutated hand grabbing her by the throat, threatening to crush her windpipe as it dangles her above the pavement.

“No!” Leon cries out, feeling as though his entire world might shatter. Her legs are twitching and kicking, eyes bulging out of her skull as she opens her mouth in a vain attempt to suck in even a breath of air. Leon aims and sends a cluster of bullets towards its skull. The beast roars in pain, flinging the girl against the pavement as it lumbers towards him. Leon grits his teeth as he sends more bullets flying toward it, and by some sheer luck, one manages to go right through its eye. He breathes out a sigh of relief as it finally stumbles forward, succumbing to the fatal blow. His victory is short-lived though, his eyes falling on the rookie. She still hasn’t moved, remaining limp on the cold cement. Leon kneels beside her, ignoring the pain from his own aching body as he gently cradles her in his arms. She is pliable and unmoving, like a ragdoll in his arms as he brings her to his chest. Her lips are tinged blue from lack of oxygen and her neck is inflamed from the strangulation, but Leon breathes out a sigh of relief as his fingers find her pulse, a steady thump emanating from her. As the chaos fades away, reinforcements finally arrive at the scene, Leon holds her in his arms, unwilling to let go. A medic approaches, trailed by a pair of agents.

"Please," he bemoans, trying to quell the fear in his heart as the medic kneels down beside him, gently taking the girl from his arms. He watches intently, trying to ignore the growing tightness in his chest. She was hurt. He hadn't been enough to protect her and she had gotten hurt. He feels tears prick in the corners of his eyes and he has to remind himself that he is being watched and judged right now. Leon forces himself to remain stoic, however on the inside, he can't help but lament that he failed her.

____________

The days following the mission were quiet. Leon had invited her to rest in his apartment, not trusting those bastards to give her the proper time to recover. It was strange having another person in his space, hell, he wasn’t used to having his own space. The apartment was a place he felt he hardly spent time in, being shipped around at the government's whim. It was nice to have something in his name though, and even nicer to have someone share it with him. The rookie made his sterile apartment feel more like a home than it ever had before. Leon fell into the role of caretaker quickly, letting her rest in his bed as he brought her tea for her throat and helped bandage her wounds. She would lament, saying she wasn’t dead yet and could care for herself, rolling her eyes playfully whenever he poked his head in to check on her. He couldn’t help himself though, part of him was still in shock that she was alive, that she had come out of that mission with her heart still beating. Leon knew his feelings weren’t strictly platonic, not after the kiss they had shared at the bar, not after the soul-sucking fear he had felt after cradling her limp body amidst the aftermath of the chaos. Feelings were a luxury he hadn’t let himself indulge in in years. This isn't lust, he knows that much. Lust is like a quelling fire that burns in his gut, one that’s hot and heavy and must be put out lest he be driven mad. No, how he feels is not a burning passion, but a steady flame, like laying by a crackling hearth and letting the warmth wash over him. As he looks into her eyes, he feels as if he is home. Leon isn’t sure if he has ever experienced love, but he imagines that this is what it feels like.

One evening as they are sitting on the edge of his bed, only half paying attention to a movie he had rented, he turns to look at her, feeling his chest swell with that warm fuzzy emotion again. He doesn’t have to put up a facade of strength and bravery, a performance of a loyal government agent. With her, she sees him for what he is. A scared broken man. Leon can’t afford to be vulnerable very often, neither of them could, but perhaps for now they could both step out of their protective shells and be who they are.

“I love you,” he says suddenly, mesmerized by her. She turns to meet his gaze, eyes wide in surprise. She doesn’t say anything at first, the silence deafening as Leon starts to wonder if perhaps this was a mistake.

“I love you too,” she finally admits, her hand reaching for his as he meets her halfway, tenderly holding hands as if they were a pair of schoolchildren in the playground. Leon can feel his heart swell, his mind growing fuzzy as he tries to wrap his head around this feeling. Relationships are impractical in this line of work, and he can’t be certain of his future, much less one he could have with her. To calm the flood of emotions that are coursing through him he does the only thing he knows that can calm him. He lurches forward like a man possessed, crashing his lips to hers as his hand comes up to clasp his face, her palm gently grasping his cheek as if he was a piece of treasure that might slip through her fingers less she is too rough. It’s an odd feeling, to be cherished Leon thinks to himself as he kisses her. He doesn’t think of himself as worthy enough to be cherished, to be loved at all. In his mind, he is unworthy, just a broken man who isn’t sure of what exactly he is doing, not used to making his own choices in life. But as the kiss grows more heated, Leon can only think of one thing he wants to do. To worship the woman he loves.

Leon falls to his knees before her. He doesn’t believe in God, not anymore at least. But as he looks up at her angelic face, he imagines this is what God’s love must feel like; warm and comforting, ever-present as he feels the adoration inside of him, seeping into his bone marrow. She spreads open her thighs and Leon doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between them. His tongue is pressed flat against her core, licking a steady stripe up her slit. He can’t tell if it's her musky sweet scent that makes him feel as though he has been electrocuted or the way she parts her lips and moans, but the feeling shoots straight to his groin.

“Don’t hold back angel, I want to hear you sing” he murmurs into her folds, pressing kisses to her clit as she arches her back as he wraps his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves. He buries his face into her core, her legs twitching as they wrap around his head, pulling him in closer. She’s whimpering and moaning as Leon has his mouth around her clit, tongue swirling around it as he slowly sinks a finger into her. The tightness is warm and wet and Leon can’t help but groan at the feeling. He sinks his finger into the knuckle before pulling out, slowly easing another one into her. He pauses as she adjusts to the feeling, holding still to simply bask in the way she looks. Mouth open, frozen in wanton pleasure as she starts to squirm, a silent plea for him to continue. Leon happily obliged, building up a steady pace with fingers, the room echoing with a mixture of her moans and the squelching of her arousal. His fingers thrust into her at an angle, finding that special spongy spot as her breaths came out in pants. Leon couldn’t help but feel a smirk tug at his lips as he began to repeat his motions, watching in awe as her chest heaved and her stomach tightened. A few quick kitten licks to her clit had her throwing back her head, her fingers entangling themselves in his hair. As she comes undone, he continues to work her through her orgasm, fingers finally slipping out as he pulls his face back, his chin glossy with her arousal. He crawls up her body, running a hand along the curves of her face as he presses his lips to hers and he can’t help but melt into her. She is everything he is not, and he feels as though he has found a missing piece of his soul.

“I love you,” Leon murmurs, breaking away to gaze into her eyes. He can’t bring himself to care about the ramifications of his actions, the potential discourse of his admission of affection. At this moment, he is not an agent, he’s just a man in love.

“I love you too,” the rookie whispers back, reaching up and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Leon groans softly, feeling all too aware of his growing desire. The rookie reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulls him back to her.

“I’m ready if you are,” she says, her lips ghosting over his ear. Leon suppresses a shudder as meets her lips in a kiss, his free hand grasping the base of his cock as he runs in through her slick folds. With a groan he slowly sinks into her, the warmth enveloping him as he loses himself to her. He stills for a moment, the pair basking in the feeling of becoming one before Leon slowly starts to thrust, pulling out before gently thrusting back up into her. A whine leaves his mouth before he can stop it, the pleasure is all-consuming as he keeps up a gentle thrust. Her arms cling to him, a hand trailing down his back. Leon can’t tell where he ends and where she begins, all he can feel is the tightening of his stomach, his pace becoming more erratic as the coil inside him grows taut. He raises her thigh, pulling back slightly to worm a hand between the two of them, his calloused finger on her clit as he massages it, building up the pace until he can feel her clench around him, her whines and moans growing to a high pitch. Leon watches as her body begins to shake against him, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead as he waits for her to finish. It’s a beautiful sight to watch her come undone against him, her cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. With a final grunt, he pulls out, his hip bucking upward into his hand as cums on her stomach, his body shaking from the feeling.

He falls beside her, his hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, his chest heaving from exertion. His arms wrap around her, pulling her close to him as he closes his eyes and presses a kiss to her temple. There are no words to be said. The night will soon end and it will be a new day. Leon isn’t sure what the future holds for them as their lives are not theirs to control. If he could freeze time he would spend an eternity like this, pressed up against her, frozen in a kiss until the end of time. Leon couldn’t think of a more beautiful existence.

Note: I hope you've enjoyed this! Posting makes me nauseous lol. If there are any errors I apologize!

Tag:@tarantulasnot

#Leon Kennedy #leon s kennedy #Resident Evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy #re4r leon #resident evil x reader

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noira-l · 24 hours ago

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TL;DR - I totally relate to that.

That’s so true. I started writing fics in July, completely unprepared, after getting caught up in community. At first, it was exciting, but after discovering some really amazing work, something inside me just snapped. Ever since, I haven’t been able to see my own writing in any positive way. I constantly feel like I need to "fix" my old work because it feels unworthy of being on the same platform as so so many talented authors.

Even when I come up with a cool idea, I can't seem to finish it. I feel like I’ve burnt myself out creatively because I’ve already given up on myself. I would do many things differently if I went back in time.

And honestly, I feel like my writing doesn’t even fit the platform. I think my stories have so many problems: they are too long, too detailed, too stuck to canon (even with some twists or changes), or everyone is ooc. I want to write so many fics that are really in jjk universe, but I think no one here wants them. People simply don't want to read that kind of stories anymore. It seems like there’s more focus on popular tropes and writting as many bed scenes as possible - and seriously, admitting that makes me feel pretty depressed.

What the fanfic-writing process has become;

Finish reading a fanfic and feel awful about one's own writing then proceed to try and create works "as good as" that story. Or try to replicate that authors writing.

Scroll through social media for what fandoms are popular right now to see where you can join and get your writing seen.

Take in every piece of writing advice there is and then stress, trying to create an award-worthy fanfic story.

Crying because you can't describe your bedroom scene the way your fave fanfic writer did in their story; or because you can't describe your character's facial features like the way the advisors of writing on Tumblr said you should.

I must include this and exclude that to get my fanfic-writing respected and seen

I'm nervous about whether others will like or hate my work when I share

I don't wanna write, I have no inspo, but I must write cause I'm in this fandom that's hot right now and all my fellow writers in said fandom are posting

What fanfic-writing started as and should be;

You enjoy a piece of media, art, song, etc., you're hungry for more and so you write an extension of the universe to include stuff you wanted to see, that the original creator didn't include. No rules, no standards, and no restrictions.

Excited to just write and share a work. If others love it, it's a plus

If you want to write excellent fanfics, that's very fine as long as you're having fun and you're not stressed.

#noira.speaks

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cursedhaglette · 2 days ago

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Solavellan recs you say? 👀👀👀👀👀

OHHHHH POOOKIIIIEEEEEEEEEE here's a lil bit of everything for you, go forth and feast

remorse is not an apology by deciblesque - you will find me gradually losing my shit in the comments of this one. we shouldn't be allowed to read it for free, it's so brilliant. i literally have no words, it's just so fucking good. post-DAV and an absolute must read. (also the author has some very delicious solavelassan smut if you need something to wash it down with)

the shrine of your lies by @swordbisexual - make that everything by ouiser by dear god, this one will have you needing solas so bad

the first six months of forever by lahtays - devastating, brilliant, sexy, post-solas doing his big stupid but written pre-DAV (as if we need DAV though) but they get to live in the world as they fix things and yeah. so so good.

scion by @widowling - we know martyr, we love (and love to hate) martyr, but honestly scion is gonna RUIN me in a big way and i can't wait. a good, like ACTUALLY GOOD, arlathan AU is hard to find but a sexy young solas is also the most important thing in the world to me, especially if he's also just a lil dumb. my beloved widowling nailed it. can't wait for more of this one.

love is not a victory march by @brunchatthebookstore - the inquisitor gets the call to go to minrathous in time for solas' ritual. this is an all-timer in the making, i just know it.

miles below the surface of the dawn by @thefirstaidkit - long form smut that literally made me cry i'm not kidding. this fandom really has everything. you know what's more fucked up? KIT HADN'T EVEN FINISHED DAI WHEN WRITING THIS MASTERPIECE.... shfdkjhjsdfkjshdf

verhas'alhan - to yearn for wilderness by rosemarybagels - centuries spent after the veil falls and this is painful but absolutely beautiful and feels so wonderfully true to both characters and ugh. UGH. how to be heartbroken and hate each other but love each other all at the same time. gorgeous.

her hand was invented before god was by @citrusai - gan'freya woman that she is. solas snoop that he is. this is absolutely delicious and perfect and i've read it twice and i know i will again because it's so them.

the immortal game by @psykergirl - the most solavellan smut of all time. trust me on this.

all new, faded for her by @scaryanneee - putting this toward the bottom only because i've recc'd it before multiple times but not because i love it any less. it's one of my current comfort fics and anna is so so brilliant and perfect at writing the classic romance tropes we know and love but making them soooo sollavellan it's sick. also morinne is there but who cares when ATHERA. QUEEN ATHERA. god.

these hands, if not gods by @gefionne - also at the bottom only because i've recc'd it before and i think the whole fandom is probably bouncing up and down waiting for every update. my other current comfort fic at the moment. imagining young solas whimpering with nipple rings gets me through the day and gef...god bless gef for that.

there's........so much more porn here than i expected. oops. but also it's all literally so good i'm not even sorry about it. also if you want to support moi, i write a lil fic called requited but feel weird promo-ing it more than that. i also have more fic recs for solavellan answered here, here and here!

anyways, have fun and enjoy!

#thank you for asking bc this gave me a break from endless interview prep hehe #fic recs #solavellan fic recs #solavellan fics #solavellan #solavellan fanfic #solavellan hell #solavellan heaven #asks

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jjslvt · 3 days ago

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LOVE HURTS ── .✦ ANGST, SMUT, NSFW, MDNI .ᐟ.ᐟ

⤷ heartbreaker!jj maybank x reader

[ masterlist ] // notes: this is a jj version to “beautiful reaper” and “primal desires.” decided to combine it rather than two parts. this one isn’t first person pov. you guys voted that you wanted it so you got it? idk whether to call this dark!jj cos it’s mainly just him being a charming player? well, it’s emotional manipulation, toxic. (which i would never, ever see jj as cos he’s pookie! love writing loverboy!jj 🙂‍↕️ my literal golden boy). just giving this fic to those who voted yes since it won on the poll. [ includes rough & unprotected sex, be safe ]

JJ Maybank had a way of making you believe all the charming things he would say. He wasn’t the most gracious or sophisticated at it — no, sometimes words failed him completely but he could surprise you. In the best of ways.

Was it his smile that would bask in the warmth of a thousand suns? Was it his signature messy locks of blond hair that looked wonderful no matter what state it was in? Was it the way his ocean-colored eyes would glimmer as soon as the light had shone on them? Was it the low tone of his voice with that Southern drawl that came on thicker during certain moments — sending shivers down your spine? Or maybe it was the way he would stare at you like a puppy that made him seem so innocent at first.

That smile of his wasn’t a smile but a dangerous smirk that you were too blind to see.

You don’t have to explain how devastatingly and ruggedly handsome JJ Maybank is. Not only did he have a personality that captivated you in every way; even with the internal sadness and torment that shackled him… the one he would hide and run away from — but he also looked like everything you ever wanted.

Yet he was the most flawed being you ever had the agonizing pleasure of knowing. You felt as though you were put under some trance just to endure his delightful pain.

JJ Maybank had you wrapped around his finger and you were never just the only one. Everyone loved him, everyone wanted him and he’d make you feel special but it was just a fleeting moment. He didn’t want to let anyone in.

He was a heartbreaker and probably one of the sweetest ones.

JJ had much potential; it wasn’t that he was evil, no. He had a good heart deeply buried in the confines of his slightly smeared soul. A heart that he only showed to his best friends, refusing to give others a chance. Too much hurt had plagued him and as much as you wished to be his saving grace, you couldn’t be.

He didn’t want to give that heart up to someone special, he just pushed you away when you came too close. When it had started getting too real for him but he never truly let you stray too far.

All you could do was let him drag you through this exquisite sinful heaven. Perhaps you were twisted too… because you couldn’t stay away.

You were in love.

─────────────────────

A familiar sensation, of JJ Maybank fucking you well into oblivion. His thick cock was so deeply swallowed by you, making you moan out incoherent words. A game that you both played except it wasn’t a game to you; yet you let yourself stay as a player.

Once he heard those sinful sounds escape from your lips, his smirk widened. His eyes twinkled with pride because he knew.

You enjoyed the pleasure too; it would be a lie to say that you didn’t. Your body undoubtedly craved his just as he seemed to want to mold into yours, trying to claim you.

JJ Maybank knew how to fuck and make you feel like you’re on top of the world, that was the simple truth.

On the other hand, you had wished he was fucking you out of pure love… but you knew better than to believe the sweet praises falling from those lips. The praises left a bittersweet taste in your mouth as you both relished and ached at those delicious words. He could be dirty and vulgar with the words but times like these? He became silver-tongued, he knew how to make you melt. It was his charm.

Maybe deep down… he did feel something as this was reoccurring. The full length of his shaft seemed to find a home in the tightness of your heat. Never getting tired of the pleasurable sensation, neither of you.

You couldn’t read his mind; he didn’t like being vulnerable, he didn’t want to let you in. You weren’t the most angelic of people either — you wanted to dive into that tortured soul of a mind, you knew he had pain. The curiosity was a brutal need, if only it were possible to read minds.

You wanted to be the one who could break down his protective walls.

Yet you felt that sometimes, you were the only one who could understand him. Who could pick up the cues. You knew he was a mess of a person — the prettiest boy, full of mischief and sadness; an angry boy, full of impulsivity and hurt that others failed to see. You noticed everything about him.

But not what he thinks of you. He needs someone. Who can that someone be? It won’t be you, no matter how hard you wish upon the stars in the night sky to grant you this one thing. Why would it? This is the prison of chaos not the oasis of miracles.

In the primal sense, it seemed like he needed YOU but love? He’s charismatic to several, which makes you turn green; your eyes full of jealousy burning behind his back. A burning that you had to dip into the vast ocean to cleanse out of your system before the pain in you revealed itself. This was where the problems that choked you lay. Flirtatious in personality and infected others with smiles, even if they got annoyed with him. No one could stay away from him and you knew he was experienced. He had that reputation after all. You knew he would compliment others; he couldn’t resist charming a pretty girl who gave him attention — that came his way, stealing what you laid naive, emotional claim to.

You knew he hooks up; you two aren’t in a relationship after all. Even if he makes you think it sometimes. You wonder how he fucks the others… the same as you? If so, you think your jealousy will hit a boiling point.

You were as possessive as he was. You just hid it well usually, at least you hoped. And yes, he spoke possessively to you, maybe because it was the heat of passion.

“You feel so good, fuuuuck…” A grunt escaped his mouth at a particularly rough thrust that had your insides shaking. You arched a bit, accepting how greedily he wanted to bury himself inside of you — stretching you more and more to your limits every single time.

“You’re mine, say it… ah, haa…” he practically growled that out as you whimpered.

‘He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t have.’

Yet your heart instantly responded with a ‘yes, I’m completely yours, you idiot.’ That whimper caused him delight as his ocean eyes looked hazy, like a storm.

But you had a small piece of pride during these moments when he wrecked you; a shudder in your body serving to his pleasure. A pride he would no doubt, break down.

He took his free hand that wasn’t gripping your hip with a bruising force and pried your mouth fully open with his thumb. His movements speed up, slamming with reckless abandon now. ‘He’s close,’ you thought. He slightly pushed his thumb into your mouth, holding the bottom of your jaw with the rest of his hand, the tip of his thumb touching your bottom teeth, moving further in — trying to feel a bit of your tongue.

“Say it, baby… c’mon, say that you’re mine,” he didn’t growl it this time. Much to your surprise, it almost sounded like a plea rather than a command. He knew you would weaken at that tone right away.

Gasping out, you mumbled, “A-ah… y-yours…”

“Whose?” His thrust punctuated that question and his hand was still there, wanting you to mumble more. His tone changing to something rougher.

“Yours… JJ… I’m yours.” Your mouth betrayed your little pride despite it being the truth. You had no eyes for anyone else.

He groaned in satisfaction and grinned a little, then dipped his thumb fully into your mouth, making you suck. Your lips closed in and your tongue moved slightly because you would have kissed and licked every part of him.

And you did.

Just as he also did it; he would worship your body a lot of times which only made you fall into this chaos deeper. Making sure every inch of you got attention… got touched, kissed, licked, sucked; all of it. Covering you in marks as if you were his work of art, a masterpiece he wished to display because he created it and owned it. It wasn’t always a frantic fuck — a mindless release but this was what made you wish more; that he would never even glance at someone else. Your dark thoughts oozed out, the fact that you wanted to cage him and hide him from the others. See, you were pathetically obsessed with him.

He didn’t know the full extent of it; he knew you cared. Knew you were whipped to the core but he didn’t know these dark thoughts because he treated you like an angel to play with.

“You… look s’ sweet…” he rasped out, his pumps into you gaining even more speed suddenly. You could feel the throbbing of his cock start to grow. Your eyes were somewhat half-lidded, gazing with everything at him. The shimmer of light illuminated their colors. He loved your eyes for some reason and said they expressed more than you knew. Only at this moment.

“Sweetheart… ‘s pretty, perfect,” another rasp came out as his thumb slipped out of your mouth. Your saliva coated it so he placed it near his mouth, his tongue swiping his thumb to taste the wetness you left on him.

He whispered for a moment but loud enough so you could hear, “You’re worth lookin’ at more than anyone else… you know that? Takin’ me like this and lookin’ like a beaut.”

He would add in something like that, so randomly — his charming tricks just crashed into the open. Was it cheesy? Maybe. Yet it still made goosebumps appear on your skin and made your face start to heat up. It made you feel like you had a damn chance, especially with how that voice sounded.

Does he talk to the others like this? Does he seduce them all with his secretive soft praises? The first time you heard him speak like a lover boy shook you to your core — he’s smarter than others would ever give him credit for.

Then he swiped his tongue at it once more.

“HNG, tasty…” he murmured like a starved man, getting closer and closer to the edge of his release. He put that hand back on the other side of your hip; both hands firmly pinning you down to his bed more now. You squirmed because you always loved feeling his hands on you, even if they were hurting you a little.

There was a gratification in that pain.

“You taste the best, cupcake.” His face contorting in the most wonderful form of pleasure as he poured out those words.

“Y’know that, right? How tasty you are… can’t let anyone else taste it.”

The blood in your veins felt like it was ablaze, scorching your body with the heat he created.

“So fuckin’ warm… UGH — so tight… f’ me,” he panted with a whine that ruined you; he struggled to speak a little as his hips were rapidly bucking in. His stamina was something else and the relentlessness of his speed, like he was a creature. But you took him well… a match to him.

Your body tensed up at his continuous praises, ready to follow him in the orgasmic bliss that was about to wash over you both. He could feel that you were close too as he stayed attuned to you and so, he leaned over while continuing to fuck you until you saw stars. Both of you were on the edge of spilling as his mouth planted onto yours, making this moment intimate. The bed creaked from his force, the sounds of flesh slapping and the noises your mouths made that were now muffled; consuming each other.

More like, him consuming you as you couldn’t fight his dominance.

His kiss almost felt like it was stealing your soul, searching for all the love he could find as if he desperately needed… love. Taking in every moan or whine out of you, his tongue plunging into your mouth — seeking the taste of the sweetness he had taken bites of before, exploring deeply. Sometimes he’d pull your tongue out a bit so he could suck on it then resume kissing you more sweetly after. That made you feel like you were on cloud nine. That made you writhe underneath him as butterflies filled your stomach with the way he worked on you.

Then the bite would come, nibbling your bottom lip then sinking those teeth harder in, tugging to make tears slip out of you. Tears that you didn’t mind giving because you were in ecstasy.

“JJ…” You choked out, barely sounding normal at all and his body shook.

Your eyes rolled back as his cock hit that special spot and let go. He moved his face away, letting your bottom lip go — throwing back his head as his jaw clenched & he let out a guttural groan, “shiiiit… f-fuck… mine.”

He had exploded inside of you… copious amounts of his cum filling you; his cock twitching in the contentment of his climax. He collapsed on top of you instantly due to the quantity, almost squishing you and keeping that strong grip on your hips. Your hands had gripped his arms sometime between it all, now shaking.

‘Mine,’ why did he have to call you that now? It wasn’t fair. You cried out loudly, finding your finish as well as your whole body arched into his despite him pressing you into the bed — more tears streaming down your face.

His hips still stuttered and mindlessly rutted a bit until he was completely spent. Your limbs went numb, loosening… the pants of you both being the only sound as silence filled. Rapid breaths as your flesh stuck together, unwilling to separate much at all.

He didn’t speak nor did you. He didn’t pull out of you… he would stay there for a while & hide his face in the crook of your neck like he was your sweetheart once he started calming. You would lay there, letting this temporary warmth he gave you stay with you as if it was all yours. As if you two were going to be this way forever, as if HE were yours.

─────────────────────

This game you play… he plays, has to come to an end, eventually. You know that. This sweet torment he puts you through. The actions that make him seem as if he’s trying to romance you with the intention of what you silently weep for. As if he cares about keeping the heart he has captured.

For a moment, he gazes at you with something unreadable (perhaps something vulnerable), making your heart feel like it’s swelling. Mornings like these, where you’re laying in his bed after spending the night. Hope gnawed at you quietly… ‘Why is he looking at me like that?’ but hope was a cruel bitch. Promising falsity in fools like you; you wouldn’t fall for it, you would shake it off and he would look away.

‘He doesn’t love me. He never will.’

No amount of prayers can cure your addiction; as he was the drug that you kept taking. The sweetened poison you kept letting sink into you. You wanted him, selfishly so — but your love for him was real, unyielding.

Scorching your soul in its wake, fast to undo you because loving him was agony.

The unspoken words… the words of love, the deepest of your desires, the raw ones that weren’t so innocent — suffocating you each day but very slowly. Making sure you experience the most pitiful of deaths. But he knew because of those smirks and gazes he gave… he knew, deep down. Still, you tried to masquerade as a fool ignorant of your intense feelings. Parading around like he didn’t have you wrapped around his finger, that it wasn’t painfully obvious.

Does he know you’re dying? How many times has he looked at you and not realized, it’s killing you, or maybe he did — you weren’t a mind reader.

Why won’t he let you into his heart? Is that fear… he tries masking away? Is he afraid… to actually fall in love?

And why did he look at you now… with mysterious eyes for that moment? Eyes full of something.

(another note: considering pausing all my wips… & writer’s break cos motivation down atm. idk yet)

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itsrandompersonyall · 3 days ago

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X reader fics, yeah yeah there's Wattpad and AO3 (fanfiction.net and many more) but this app is the first time I feel.... Idk easy? Like you can just scroll and new series or shorts or drabble or oneshot will appear in a different story trope, storyline and writers. With AO3 and Wattpad, it was too little story about x reader for my taste and the summary wasn't gonna convince me to keep clicking, since stumbling into Tumblr, my dictionary and writing were influence greatly.

It also help with the community and the account about story trope, every new trope they publish feel like a way to inspire me on working on my dream. Yeah I wanna be a writer in this economy, sure I never publish any of my writing but it greatly help me to achieve a little portion(?) of being a writer. Sometime Tumblr was unhinged as **** but its fine, I guess why be basic? Then again I am still a student, still young, this year I will graduate and hopefully can choose my major correctly (please God don't make waste my youth). In the future, I hope I can publish a book, my hope may not be much, but it's what that keep me alive and push me through this tiresome system (structural poverty and all, I'm not a descendant of someone important so the likelihood of me being wealthy enough as generation sandwich is small).

P.s: I am writing this in between my exam, currently waiting for Sundanese language test form to drop.

i wanna start a tag game >:3

why did you decide to join tumblr?

i’ll start!!^^

i wanted to join so i could post x reader fics cause fanfiction.net would get upsetti spaghetti when i tried to post them there :D

tagging: @hotelcaliforniaenbydancer @nothingtoseehere1-2-3 @rosalinastan1 @ayunakatsukiwolfhashira @pinkwisteria @kimetsu-chan @shycroissanti @slayfics @night-mince10000000000000000001 @zenitsustherapist @frostburn-shoto @floofgryph @aceofstars0 @pulim-v @muichirolover14 @muichirosboba @kiyokatokito

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #young writer #It's not much but the freakiness of Tumblr has inspire #the goodness and badness of it #Hell even the smut was kinda......#Didn't know humanity can produce such debauchery like this #Guess I have to learn the real world through this huh?

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darlingghoulette · 22 hours ago

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walked in and dream-came-trued it for ya'

Summary: You come across a fun surprise on a supply run and decisions are made to “spice things up” in the bedroom for you and Joel. You fuck about it. That’s the fic. Rated E.

Content tags: crack treated seriously for porny reasons, established relationship, Jackson!Joel, afab!reader, reader has a vagina, no other physical descriptions of reader, no use of y/n, brief discussion of body insecurity, pussy play, pussy pronouns, finger sucking, oral, unprotected p in v, Joel talks you through it because of course he does, excessive use of contractions because Joel is Southern and so am I, ambiguous reader age–she was alive before Outbreak Day so you can do the math however you’d like. I’d still say she’s younger than Joel because the demons in my soul command me to write Older Man Smut.

Author’s note: this started as a conversation about having a majestic bush in the apocalypse and spiraled into an excuse to write smut. While this is hot, I 100% believe that Joel would want his girl all natural as the good lord intended, but hey, pussy is pussy. Just wanna say: your body is your own, fuck patriarchal standards for body hair. This is just for a lil fun.

Read on AO3

It starts as a joke.

You’re clearing an old beauty store on patrol, some old chain business that used to peddle expensive makeup and a million different types of skin care that all essentially do the same thing. It’s not the normal kind of place to look for supplies, but if there was anything you’d learned living through the apocalypse, it was to be resourceful.

You and Maria had already found a decent haul. Shampoo, acetone, disposable applicators that could be used at the clinic. And no infected growing into the walls to be seen. So far, at least.

All in all, the mood was pretty high. Maria doesn’t patrol much, especially after having the baby, and a calm, successful trip outside of the walls was a welcome one. She’s not technically your sister-in-law, seeing as you and Joel aren’t married, but she’s the closest thing you’ve had to a best friend and sister since the end of the world.

You’re trading lighthearted conversation as you browse the aisles, nearly ready to call it a day when you see it.

A medium sized box, dented and dusty. One of those wax melting kits, a little pot with tiny beads of brightly colored wax pellets. You’re already kneeling down to see if all the pieces are still intact when Maria ducks around the corner.

“All set?” she asks, shooting you an amused look while you dig excitedly into the box.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen one of these?”

The packaging has certainly seen better days, and the wax beads aren’t nearly as vibrant as they probably once were, but surely wax doesn’t go bad, right? For her part, Maria is regarding the contents warily.

“Can’t say I’ve had the time to get a wax in the past, hm, twenty years or so. So, probably about that long.”

It’s almost strange to think about how little things like body hair used to be a huge deal Before. You can remember the first time in middle school you felt embarrassed about how all your friends shaved their legs and you weren’t allowed to. Before you even realized it was just a commonly accepted societal norm and not worth the huge drag out with your mom who had bigger things on her plate than her kid’s race to puberty.

Stupid shit like that stopped being important…well, ever, if you think about it, society’s expectations were bullshit and patriarchal by design–but especially after the world ended.

“We should try it.” you joke, even though something about the idea is actually tempting.

“I’m alright, thanks.”

“Come on,” You’re already imagining wrangling it into your saddlebags. “It could be fun! The guys are out helping with the dam maintenance until tomorrow, we could have a girls night! Movies, wine, torture for the sake of beauty. The full ritual, you know?”

“I’m with you for the rest of it, but I’ve made peace with my legs how they are.” You hadn’t necessarily had your legs in mind.

Maria, genius that she is, correctly interprets the wicked grin curling your lips up slowly without you even having to say anything.

She snorts, amused, but in a way that’s absolutely laughing at you instead of with you. She’s good at that. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” you defend, but she’s already shaking her head.

“I’m not taking you to the clinic after you rip off something important giving yourself a Brazilian with a 20 year old kit.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at her. “Now who’s being dramatic? It’s not a rusty razor blade. It’s wax, Maria. I’ve just…you know. Never done that, even Before. And I’m sure it would be even safer with more hands helping…”

“Ask someone else then.”

“Like who? You’re the only person I’d trust. And really the only person I have besides the 15 year old whose dad I’m currently seeing, and we just got her to the point of somewhat tolerating our relationship, I’d really rather not jeopardize that.”

The image of what a disaster that would be makes you both laugh, but there’s enough truth in the statement that you feel a twist of embarrassment at even the thought. Absolutely not.

“Besides,” you say, faux-innocence dripping from your tone. “Might be a fun surprise for Tommy. Spice things up after the baby?”

The look Maria directs at you is flat and unimpressed, but you can tell she’s not actually annoyed. In fact, there’s a glimmer of something sharp in her eye that tells you she might actually be entertaining the idea. “We don’t need things spiced up, we’re doing just fine, thank you.”

Your nose wrinkles a little at that, you may have brought it up first, but that’s your not-brother-in-law she’s talking about fucking–

“But,” she continues on before your face interrupts her anymore. For a few beats, anticipation hangs heavy between you in the dilapidated store.

“But?”

The pursed seal of her lips eases into a grin, mischievous and matching your own.

“But it might be fun to see the stuck dumb look on his face if I sprung this on him.”

You let out a sharp bark of laughter, imagining your own Miller with a similar reaction. Yeah, this thing is definitely coming home with you. Just in case, you know?

*****

For the millionth time in the last hour, you shift awkwardly on the couch.

It’s the next day after your patrol shift with Maria. The ensuing girls night you’d had turned into more of a get tipsy on the Bison’s good whiskey and goof the hell off night. It was good to see your friend so relaxed, you thought, she stayed so busy and stressed keeping the town safe and secure. A rare cutting loose was called for..

It just so happened that the liquor in your system also made the mysterious box you smuggled from the supply run a whole lot more appealing.

It was a whole ordeal, including cursing, awkward stops and starts, and more drinks than was probably smart for people your age. Thankfully, Maria was more familiar with the whole process and did most of the legwork. Not the most comfortable or glamorous passtime, and you got to know each other in ways that you certainly hadn’t expected, but the results at the end…

You cross your legs again, the sensation of your clothes on bare skin is novel when you change positions. It was stupid, and way more painful than you’d expected. Something fueled by drunk decisions and committing to the bit for laughs, but you can’t deny…it feels kind of nice? Different. But nice.

Still, in the light of day, a new anxiety is popping out after your rash choice to go all beauty-school dropout.

The sun has sunk deep into the mountains, throwing those picturesque oranges and pinks across the Wyoming sky.

Joel’s due home from his overnight trip to the dam any time now.

Leftovers you’d snagged from the dining hall are keeping warm for him in the oven. There were no dishes to wash since you’d chosen to spare him the fate of choking down something you’d thrown together. (And he would have, the kind hearted fool. You’re not the best cook, but he insists on eating whatever you make while you attempt to learn.)

The book you’re reading hasn’t progressed a single page, you keep picking it up and putting it down without retaining anything, your mind too caught up in its spiral.

What if he hates it?

Of course, it’s a stupid thought. You know he’s not the kind of person who would judge you for something small like this. Sure, it’s not how he’s seen you since you both got together. But some guys go crazy for this, right? It used to be the preferred style for some people, back in the day. Even if it’s not his, it’s just fucking hair. It’ll grow back. He’s told you over and over that he’d love you no matter how you looked, and more than that his actions speak for himself. He’s literally seen you crouched over a toilet and ralphing your guts out. He’s seen you at every worst you’ve had in the last five years and is still there. In comparison, this is such a laughable insecurity.

What if he thinks exactly that, though? It’s not a dealbreaker, but what if he laughs at you, what if he thinks it’s stupid and childish and you’re trying too hard, what if he hates it, or what if–

The sound of the front door opening interrupts your–admittedly silly–crashout.

“Baby?” he calls out from where you can hear him shucking off his work boots, starting the familiar routine of sloughing off the outside world for the comforts of home.

“Living room!”

Before you can quite go back to riling yourself up, he’s behind you, curling down over the back of the couch to kiss you hello on the slope of your neck. Your head leans backwards, craning up at him above you.

His presence is like a balm, you can feel the smile growing on your lips while you take in the soft look he’s gifting you in return.

He’s ruffled, hair a mess from the blowing wind outside; the scent of horse and woodsmoke and sweat rolling off of him. It never fails that fresh-off-work Joel just drives you absolutely up a wall. There’s something so masculine and protective and natural about him when he comes home like this that makes you want to just jump his bones as soon as he walks in the door some days.

Today’s no different.

“Have a good weekend, darlin’?” He’s leaned down further now, grunting just a little at the probable murder its doing on his back, to kiss you on the forehead. It makes you huff a soft breath of a laugh out of your nose.

“Better now, but yeah, it was pretty good. Dinner’s in the oven.” you hum, watching him straighten back up and start shedding his coat. “If you wanna take a shower first, I’ll get you a plate.”

He kisses you again in thanks, a soft peck to your temple, a large palm coming to cradle your jaw briefly to press you into the contact. It’s intimate despite being so tame, a gesture that makes something deep in your bones melt better than any on-TV passionate romcom kiss ever could. This is real and warm, and makes you feel incredibly silly recalling your anxiety from just a couple minutes ago.

*****

It’s only after you’re both set up at the kitchen table that the anxiety and anticipation begins to creep back in, Joel fresh from his shower in sweatpants, you with your feet propped in his lap with a cup of tea while he eats his late dinner.

He’s telling you about the maintenance at the dam, how the group of workers had a disagreement on how to set up the factory to better prepare for the Spring storms that’ll move through soon. And you’re listening, really, you are. Nodding along when it’s needed, adding commentary when the conversation lulls. It’s just…

You can’t help shifting in your seat occasionally, or shooting him quick glances, wondering about his reaction. It’s getting you all twisted up again, and you’re trying to decide when will be the best time to bring it up. You’re nearly bursting with it, ready to pop and just get it over with already and–

“Alright,” Joel sets down his fork. “What’d she do?”

You blink, brought short by the sudden change in conversation. “Huh?”

“What’d she do?”

“I’m not following.”

Joel looks at you, a deadpan expression on his face, one brow raised and–Oh, no, that’s his dad detective face.

“You’re over there squirmin’ like a sinner in church and you can barely meet my eye. If it was something you did, you’d have broken by now because you can’t keep a secret for shit. Which brings me to thinkin’ Ellie pulled some kinda fool stunt and you’re trying like hell to cover for her.” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up into an amused and exasperated expression. “I went by the garage first thing when I got back into town and didn’t notice anything, but she’s gettin’ better at being a normal sneaky teenager. So, what’d I miss?”

You can’t help it, that breaks you. You laugh, spine uncurling from its ramrod position. He always finds a way to break you out of your spiral. Even if he’s a little off the money, there’s something about the fact that he’s so attentive to your moods that releases the balloon of tension that’d been growing in your chest for most of the day.

During your giggle fit, Joel just smiles at you, pleased to have unfurled the little wrinkle you get between your brows when you’re really stewing on something. The meal mostly done and forgotten, his hands move to massage your socked feet in his lap, tugging playfully.

“Nothing happened, but it’s cute how you think you could get me to snitch on her,” You snicker, kicking one foot out to gently bump into his stomach. “She knows where I sleep and I’m more scared of her than I am of you.”

He laughs, mumbling a that’s probably smart under his breath before trying to weasel more answers out of you.

“Alright, if it ain’t that, then what is it?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you sniff.

“Baby.”

His tone is low and coaxing, only meant to prompt the issue out of you, but it has the effect of kindling embers in your stomach. He sits there with his broad shoulders and tousled curls fresh from the shower, hands doing magic on the muscles of your feet, oblivious for all the world that he’s just about the most attractive image of a man you’ve ever seen in your life.

You sink a little further into your chair, using the foot that’s not currently in his grasp to rub along his thigh. Something in his eyes immediately darkens.

“It’s a surprise.”

Taking the opportunity where it’s given, his hand slips further up your calf, fingers just barely brushing the tender skin at the crook of your knee, fully exposed for him in the pajama shorts you’re sporting.

“Don’t gotta surprise me, don’t need nothin’. Got everything I want right here.”

You grin. “What if I’m part of the surprise?”

He was already looking at you before, but the way his eyes rake over you now? It’s heavy, taking you in like the only water in a desert. As much as his gaze feels like a physical thing, you’d much prefer his hands. It’s that want that has you lining up the final shot.

“I mean, unless you’re too tired from your trip. That would be fine, honest, it can wait until–”

You’re cut off with a delighted shriek when he stands and snatches you up from your chair, leftovers forgotten on the table as a problem for tomorrow.

Head still spinning from the rapid change in scenery, it takes you a second to recognize that he’s headed straight upstairs. He’s on a singular mission, as made clear by the clever hand on your ass that’s not just to keep you supported in his arms.

Joel may be older than you, but goddamn, you always forget how fucking strong he is.

The buttons of his flannel are irritatingly done up and your fingers are trying to get the stubborn bastard things open when he makes it to your bedroom and drops you to the mattress with a squeak. You barely have time to get your bearings back from the impact before he’s pressing down on top of you.

“Missed you so much last night,” he offers, already pressing hot kisses to your neck, your collarbone, pulling at the stretched neckline of a shirt that’s his anyway.

You nod rapidly in agreement, nerves fizzling with electricity before he even touches you. It’s always been like this. The easy, syrupy intimacy of everyday life that can snap on a dime, dropping you both into urgency and need like you’ve never felt before. And, indeed, you need him to fuck you already before you go out of your mind.

In a dance that’s as instinctual as breathing, your legs wrap around him. Your hips undulate up into his so you can feel where he’s hard and just as desperate.

Joel pulls back to hover above you. One hand palmed around the back of your neck, tilting you to look up at him. Guiding you where he wants you. “What do you need, baby?”

You lick your bottom lip, brain catching up to his words. His eyes dart down to your mouth.

“I-I want–” you start, breathlessly, but he cuts you off with a click of his tongue.

“Don’t think I asked what you wanted, sweet girl,” he hums, thumb resting on your chin and pulling it down. Gentle pressure, you could absolutely break away if you wanted to, but you follow his lead, sucking the appendage into your mouth. “Asked what you needed.”

You try to get the word “you” out around your mouthful, and you must do a good enough job that it earns you a kiss to the forehead, a move that might feel out of place to anyone else, but it’s so protective and possessive and him it makes you want to fucking writhe to release the pressure between your legs.

The slick sound of his thumb when he pulls it from you draws a sharp whine from your chest and he shushes you, hands dragging down and down and down your sides, coming to rest on your hips. Something about that wriggles in the back of your head, like there was something you were supposed to be doing here, but you’re way too caught up to remember.

“It’s alright. I gotcha, baby,” Joel says, heated and soft in his low drawl, and then he’s sliding your shorts down your hips. Hands sure and practiced, expert at playing you like a goddamn fiddle. Lips laying scalding, sucking kisses from the crook of your knee to the inside of your thigh as he eases your legs open and–

Stops.

It takes a couple of seconds for you to realize that he’s not just pausing for anticipation. He’s full on halted down there, one of your legs still hiked up in his palm, staring down at you like…Well.

You think the term Maria used was struck dumb.

You bite your lip to keep the laughter contained. It’s not very successful, because his eyes snap back up to your face after a snort sneaks out against your will.

There are lots of sexier ways you could play this, probably, but you settle on grinning up at him.

“Surprise?”

The sound he lets out is more of a sharp exhalation of breath than anything, like it was kicked out of him. You think you hear a goddamn tacked on the end there, but it’s quiet.

“What prompted this?” he asks when his words find him again, eyes dropped back down to take in the sight.

“Felt like a change,” you mumble, losing some of your previous steam. You can give him the whole story later, but despite being used to him seeing you all kinds of ways, something about direct eye contact with your pussy makes you wriggle uncomfortably.

“You, uh. You like it?” You’re starting to feel that anxiety creep back in, especially since he hasn’t confirmed or denied, or said much of fucking anything to give you a clue yet.

Something in your tone must give that away, because you can almost see him mentally shake himself–systems coming back online, you think to yourself. The next time his eyes catch yours, it makes your stomach go molten.

“Like it?” he echoes. His fingers have started exploring, petting down your soft skin. Even just the gentlest touch is like a livewire, makes your entire body clench, and he huffs out a soft laugh. “More’n like it, you are…Christ.”

He’s lowered your knee over his shoulder now, using both hands to make you lightheaded without actually touching where you want him.

“She’s so pretty, baby,” he coos at you, making you moan even louder when he caresses the tender skin on either side of your cunt. “You make her all pretty just for me?”

You nod, words a knot in your throat.

“She’s always pretty, though.” You can feel the hot breath closer now, mouth hovering just above where your nerves are on fire. The sensation has your hand snapping down and threading into his hair with a keening whine. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, an’ all mine.”

And then he’s eating at you like a man starved.

He’s always been enthusiastic when it comes to your pleasure, but like this everything feels heightened, sensitive beyond measure. His nose bumps your clit and your vision whites out..

His tongue is not just bullying inside you every few strokes, it’s licking at the soft, smooth skin wherever he can touch. He sets his teeth to gently drag across one of your folds and it sends you nearly howling with it, the pressure in your core ratcheting up so high that you feel yourself hurtling to the edge impossibly fast. Joel knows it, too. He knows your body better than anything else on earth.

“That’s it,” When he pulls back, it’s only with scant inches between you still, dipping back in to lay kiss after kiss on your heated flesh between words, like he can’t stand to pull himself away. Two of his fingers take the place of his tongue, crooking up inside you exactly where he knows drives you crazy and thrusting. Fucking you through it with every trick he knows drives you right to the peak.

“Good girl, take what you need, alright? Give it to me, baby, I got ya’,”

You can’t do anything but comply. Chest heaving, crying out with your orgasm as he eases you down as effectively as he built you up, kissing around your clit because he knows the stimulation can be too much directly after.

You don’t even wait to get your breath back before you’re using the grasp you still have on his hair to yank him up to your mouth.

He tastes like you.

It’s your favorite thing to taste on him.

Down below, past where his fingers are still petting at you, he’s grinding into the bed, trying to relieve the pressure where he’s straining against the seams of his sweatpants. The sight of it knocks enough sense back into you to start tugging at his clothes with urgency once more. It must amuse him greatly judging by the look he gives you.

“Need something?” he asks, but smart man that he is, he’s already joining in to help you shove his clothes away, your hands too shaky from the mind-shattering orgasm still. “Got another one in you?”

“You gonna keep asking stupid questions?” you pant, and it makes him bark out a delighted laugh, genuine and deep, and it has you grinning in response, always secretly pleased when you make him laugh.

It’s a practiced dance between you both; getting him undressed to match you, taking playful nips at the newly uncovered skin within reach, getting distracted by long periods of kissing until you’re so keyed up again that all you can do is pant against his mouth while he teases you.

He’s slowly rubbing the head of his cock against your soft folds, a slick slide that echoes wetly in the room and it’s so fucking obscene you could vibrate out of your own skin.

Up and down.

Coating himself in you and…just feeling. Playing with you. Enjoying his surprise. You let out a whine, impatient and beyond your limits.

“S’it feel good?” he’s toying with you, stroking along your skin everywhere except where you need him. He nudges against your clit and the shocky, overwhelming zip of it rocks a gasp from your chest that he must like the sound of because he does it again, hungry for it.

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you think she’s got another one for me?”

You’ve dissolved down to only nerve endings, too wound up to do much in response but grind up against him.

“Feels so good, so soft and sweet f’me,” he groans, the head pressing in just that little bit, barely there, only needing just that little bit more pressure to pop past the resistance and into your body. “Why don’t you feel, baby? Reach down here and guide me in, feel how nice we feel together,”

He grabs your hand, pulling it down between your bodies, grunting when you grip around him. It’s so slick and hot, a combination of the two of you that makes your stomach clench in anticipation. You try to guide him right in, desperate to feel him inside of you, but he resists.

“Slow, baby, slow, there we go,” It’s agonizingly drawn out, but he sinks into you finally, the position you’re in–one of his hands under the small of your back to tilt you up to him, your knees locked around him–combined with the glacial pace makes it feel so intense and fucking deep that you’re sucking in great lungfulls of air to keep from floating away. “Theeere we go, atta girl. Always take it so well,” he murmurs, breathless himself, shoulders tense.

He’s petting along your side with his free hand, gentling you like a goddamn horse, and fuck does it make your eyes roll back. With anyone else it would probably feel condescending. With Joel it just makes you want to slam your hips down into him even more, get him to move already.

He finally does draw back, right before slamming forward again and stealing all of the hard-won breath from your chest.

Time is lost after that. A haze of slapping skin and moans.

He adjusts his grip on you, both hands coming to rest on your hips to physically pull you into the force of his thrusts, propping you up and up until–

“Fuck!”

He hits that spot inside of you that makes your entire body jolt with electricity, and he grins, boyish and cocky.

“There she is,” he’s relentless, angled perfectly to make you lose your mind, thumb coming up to rub perfect, tight circles over your clit in time with his strokes. “I’ve got you, baby, gonna let go for me?”

Already keyed up and sensitive from your peak earlier, the overstimulation is tortuous and so, so good, already hurtling you towards another that you know he can feel impending by the way you’re tightening around him.

You’re trying to hold on, drawing out the pleasure curling at the base of your spine, but he drops down, hips never stopping, thumb still a maddening pressure on your clit, and he bites at your chest.

His breath is scorching hot and wet on your skin as he groans “such a good fuckin’ girl, fuckin’ come on my cock baby, s’all yours,” and he bites down on a peaked, puffy nipple.

Your second orgasm of the night rocks through you, the force of it startling, your fingernails making deep grooves in Joel’s back as you ride through it.

He’s cursing and holding you to him, hips stuttering with your cunt gripping him so tightly. Your end tumbles him into his own, emptying into you and fucking his come deeper on instinct.

The room is silent except for your combined breaths as you both come down.

There’s a pleasant buzzing in your limbs, a humming in the back of your mind as it comes back to the awareness that you still have a rather large man resting on top of you and that your lungs would quite like it if they could inflate all the way.

You tap Joel’s shoulder and he adjusts, sweat-sticky skin peeling from you to move to the side. It’s not as gross to you as it maybe could be. You think that’s what love might be.

He’s no sooner on his back beside you before you’ve rolled to lay against him, one leg tucked up over his, your chest flattened to his. Like space between you might actually kill you right now in the wake of your high. To his credit, he must feel the same, his palms skimming over your back, your ass, down to your knee and up again in a soothing circuit.

Soon you’ll need to get up and run a bath. Currently, you cannot think of anything you’d like to do less than move from this spot.

Joel kisses your hair, then your forehead, across your cheeks, anywhere he can reach, and you hum, absolutely in love with how touchy he gets after a good orgasm. The man may look big and bad outside these walls, but you have his number when it comes to post-coital cuddles.

It’s because you know him so well that you sense something brewing, his thoughts a little too loud for your liking. “Everything okay?”

He just hums, working a spot under your jaw with his teeth.

“Joel.”

“What?”

“You’re thinking too hard.”

“M’not.”

“You are, I can smell the smoke.”

He huffs, head dropping back to the pillow. “Cute.”

“I know,” you pretend to preen, but drop the humor quickly in favor of propping up on an elbow to look at him. He doesn’t seem distressed, but he’s definitely chewing on something. “What is it?”

His forehead is furrowed a bit, mouth curved to one side in thought. “You just…”

Your brow raises, prompting.

“You didn’t do all that,” he gestures at your lower half propped against him. “Just for me, did you?”

You snort. “Didn’t hear you complaining about it a minute ago.”

He rolls his eyes. “I ain’t complaining, I’m just saying.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to tease again, maybe even get a little defensive as the nerves from before try to sink back in, but you refrain. You can see in his expression that he’s serious, trying to say something here that’s important, so you let him gather his thoughts. He sighs, appearing frustrated at himself that the words aren’t coming out right.

“You can do whatever you want with your body, not like you need permission from me. I just wanted t’say that you don’t need to do anything to change yourself for me. I know some people did that controlling shit Before, pushed their preferences on their partner, but I thought it was stupid then, too. I love the way you are no matter what, because it’s you, alright?”

You blink at him, not expecting the heartfelt turn in conversation.

There’s a hint of a flush under his tanned skin that has nothing to do with the previous vigorous activity. Talking about emotions usually does that to him, but he always makes a point of letting you know how he feels about you.

You wax your pussy on a drunken whim because you think it’ll be hot, and this large, wonderful idiot of a man is worried you did it out of some obligation to beauty standards and wants you to know he loves you regardless.

As silly as the situation is, you’re utterly, ridiculously charmed.

You smile down at him, still propped on his chest. The perfect vantage point to see how his eyes get drawn to your kiss-swollen mouth.

“And what if I said that I was just trying something out? Comparing differences, you know, to see what I like. Scientific, almost.”

His eyes darken.

“In that case,” With a startled shriek, he has you flipped, back pinned to the bed once more. “Thinkin’ we should keep on testin’.”

He’s creeping back down your body, focus resting on his come that has been dripping out of you, fingers scooping through the slick and pushing it right back inside where it belongs. It wrenches a shocked moan from you.

“Joel, I can barely move already.” you whine.

“Good thing I’m doing all the work, then.”

His eyes are locked on the apex of your legs, greedily taking you in.

“I ain’t done with you yet, pretty thing,” and you don’t think he’s talking to your face at all.

#joel miller x reader #Jackson!joel #x reader #joel miller fanfiction #Rated E #joel miller smut #my writing #smut #that man is the KING of pussy pronouns and i will stand on that fact until my dying day #pedro pascal universe #I guess I should use that tag too even though Game Joel is also valid and has my entire heart #pedro pascal fic

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