a liiittle leon kennedy fic is brewing in the drafts because i’ve been playing a lot of re4 remake lately ( i’m at chapter 14 !!! ), and maaaybe some alucard and vergil doodle later !!!!
───── CONSEQUENCE 、 ft. adrian “alucard” țepeș x chubby fem!reader.
a real sweet consequence of staying with adrian in his grand castle when trevor and sypha had already left.
𝓬ontent warnings. (poc reader coded — with brief mentions of skin color) 、 2.1k words of . . . fluff, mentions of nudity, mild nsfw, established relationship, suggestive kisses, praises, canon divergent ( set in the 1400s ), calling him “adrian” instead of “alucard”, use of romanian endearments; dragă (dear), iubita mea (feminine: my beloved / my girl); and lots of softness ! (and word soft. i’ve abused that word now) 。
💌 ⸝⸝ 𝓵ove letter. just adrian being utterly in love with his darling ! he might be a little ooc, i’m sorry for that !!!
the morning rays spill through the open paned window, the pristinely white curtains swaying gently along the faint breeze of the morning air. the rumpled silken sheets rustle faintly beneath your thinly covered figure, warm colored skin catching on the slashes of the shimmering light.
adrian had quietly hoped for mornings like this—bathed in soft gold and drowsy murmurs. it was a stark contrast to the wreckage that bestrewed the castle from the war against his father and his court of vampire generals just months ago; splintered woods and stakes, scattered chunks of stone and concrete, and the charred floors of his once childhood bedroom.
it had taken months to fill the bleak halls with warmth—your presence and laughter had swept every shadow and whispers of his father’s grief, and made it less of a dingy castle and more into a home. a proper home, as you had suggested. it was his castle now after all, and he’d responded with you now being the lady of his home with a playful tilt of his lips and a warm cadence in his smooth, velvety voice. truthfully, he’d half expected you to go on your way and back to your separate lives, to traverse the world like trevor and sypha had, to help clean it from whatever’s left of his father’s nonsense.
but adrian had quietly hoped you’d stay. he didn’t want to see you with your packed belongings, waving him your farewells as you rode along in a carriage like your friends did. you’d held his hand, cradled his heart, and stubbornly occupied his mind. and you must have heard every hushed wish—seen it in his eyes because now, there you are, a year later, laying contentedly on the plush mattress of his bed—yours now too—like a spoiled house cat.
fixing the castle had been tedious, but now everything was idle. far too idle for your liking. a year of peace has softened the frayed edges of your battle-worn selves and warranted countless nights and mornings of decadence.
the long, drawn out sigh behind him pulled him back from his reverie. his long, dexterous hands had been working on the buttons of his shirt after a shower, faced towards your shared wardrobe; now looking ever the more lively with your long dresses of silk, linens, gowns, nightdresses, and the ones he’d handsewn just for you, now hung beside his own pieces.
your arms flopped dramatically to your sides with a soft thump, then came your groused words. “i’ve fallen so low, i’m losing my edge.” you dragged the syllables, each one more exaggerated than the last.
your words drew his eyebrows up, but he didn’t turn to face you yet. this wasn’t anything new—he knew your flair for melodramatics knows no subtlety. “dragă, i recall you pinning me on my back when we sparred just days ago. i believe your edge is exactly where it has always been, and it’s still quite sharp.”
“no, no. look at me, adrian. really, look at me,” he can hear light thumping from where your feet are petulantly kicking against the bed when his answer didn’t satisfy you. “i’m gaining weight, and it’s your fault.”
“my fault?” he echoed, curious.
his hands stilled, his large, pinkish scar peeking from where he left one button open. curiosity overcame him and turned to face you at last, finding you on your side. pointing accusingly his way, brows knitted together in mock frustration. but he sees through the vexation you hide beneath your playfulness.
“i have done nothing productive in months, ‘driannn,” you returned to flop onto your back with a sigh, your—his, it’s stolen—cream colored shirt gaping wider, revealing more and more skin with each wild gesture. “all i’ve done the last months is to eat everything you cook—which is always amazing, by the way—sleep, annoy you, maybe pick a few wild berries while you fish, annoy you more, and eat even more.”
you emphasized with a jab of a finger to some parts of your body, each had grown evidently fuller during your months of blissful decadence.
“half of my bras don’t even fit me anymore . . .”
he watches you, listens to you grouse about the body he’d spent countless suns and moons learning, carving each detail into his mind. caressing every inch of skin with his lips, his hands, his eyes with a reverence only the most devout worshiper is learned of. he should respond to your whining with his own playful snark like he always does, slip into that playful banter you love. should tease you, reassure you, kiss those pervading thoughts about your body away. something, really. but his poor dhampir brain short-curcuits the moment his eyes land everywhere you point on your body.
“that so?” he drawls, thin blonde brows raised. your image, so lax and draped in his shirt—drawn open to display all of you, with merely a thin scrap of silk you can hardly call your panties hugging your hip, is fraying at his composure.
he’s seen you bare countless times, yet each time undoes him like the first night you trusted him with intimacy and all your vulnerabilities. there was hardly any difference he could note—only now that your belly is softer and rounded; gods, your strong, perfect thighs—thicker, perfect for sinking his pointy fangs into, for wrapping around his head and crushing his skull; your breasts—fuller, heavier, and spilling against the shirt you’d stolen from him. a year later, and he still marveled at the rawness of your trust, your willingness to bare yourself to him.
the slight crease in his brows eased, a quiet thrum of pride blossoming in his heart at the notion that this absolute perfection is, apparently, his crime. that his woman is so well-loved with a body softened by his devotion, his well-crafted meals always made in thoughts of you. but no less the fierce fighter who stood by his side.
adrian barely managed to finish buttoning his shirt—hell, he barely managed to collect his thoughts when he crossed the room in a mere few strides to stand at the foot of the bed. his gaze raked over you, soaking in your picturesque figure. he could watch you in this state all day if you permitted. he bent down to reach you, bracing a knee and a hand onto the mattress. he crawled closer as he trailed his other hand over your leg, up to the softness of your thigh where his fingers gingerly pressed onto your plush flesh. he eased your thighs apart with hardly any effort; you always make this easy for him.
“was i supposed to deem this as a problem?”
adrian dipped his head to press a kiss to the inner of your thigh, the warmth of his breath and the sheer tenderness of his kiss sending a light zip down your spine. “you’re vibrant, dragă. this is contentment and peace you’ve gained, nothing worth being ashamed of. you earned it.”
another kiss, and another, and another, his lips brushing up a path over your hip, to the soft curve of your lower belly where light and pinkish marks begin to line your skin. each worshipful kiss drew a sigh out of you, encouraging his affectionate ministrations. “i only intend that you’re always sated, bathed in rose water, clothed in only the finest of silks. that you never want for anything. but you’re particularly fond of my clothes, it seems.”
caged between his arms, trapped under his golden, reverent gaze; whatever playful quip that you initially came up with ultimately died in your throat. that familiar flush of heat washed over your face instead, tinting your warm colored cheeks pink.
“and you, iubita mea,” he continues with that smooth, honeyed cadence of his voice, calling you his love in his native tongue in a way that never fails to melt every tension in you. inching himself upwards, he trailed his kisses higher and higher, “should see how beautifully you’ve blossomed, like flowers blooming in spring. beautiful, is what you are. and i’ll spend the rest of my life ensuring you know that.”
“‘drian. . .” you breathe to protest, but he’s already shifting closer to silence you with a tender press of his lips on your chest right where your heart beats, rising and falling with each breath, “hush now.”
and you do, allowing more of his worshipful attention. instead, your hand found his to draw him closer, his face leveling with yours; one hand braced beside your head, his hip slotted between your thighs. the lengthy silk of his blonde hair cascades down the sides of your face like golden curtains, narrowing both your worlds to this moment. just you and your dhampir, the world outside blurring into a trivial background. he laced your fingers together, pinning your hand beside your head as your legs slowly closed around his hips.
“you’ve rebuilt this place from a ruin into a home. you’ve rebuilt me, dragged me out of my grief to live. i fail to see how that does not count as productivity.”
you hear the vulnerability that belied his voice, the way it lowered and softened. you remembered his tear-streaked face and the sobs he tried to conceal; you were the one to wipe his eyes, the one to soothe him when he awoke in the middle of the night drenched in sweat from the nightmares that pervaded his sleep, the one who stayed and remained patient when his grief loomed over him, the one who laughed at his jokes and match his sarcasm. it was all the productivity he could ask from you.
“but i’m soft now…” you reason, weak and futile.
“and you wear it beautifully.” adrian pressed his forehead against yours, closing the distance, the refined point of his nose lightly bumping against yours. he saw your face cutely scrunch at the collision, and a gentle huff of laugh spilled past him.
“allow yourself this, dragă,” he reaffirms with a kiss so chaste and sweet it almost made you shy, “you’re everything i need, perfect as you are. there is not a single thing you should change.”
a beat passed before adrian saw the very moment you yielded to him and his affection, when your cute brows slowly rose and your lips formed a small pout as you surrender. he chuckles, stealing yet another kiss from you.
a triumphant smile graced his face then, pointy fangs peeking over his bottom lip, before adrian lowered himself. “and those bras? throw them away. you don’t need it. besides, it would be a crime to cage these . . .” his large palm gingerly cups one breast in his hand, a kiss finding your soft flesh.
an undignified laugh escaped you, and you gently swatted away at his arm. “perveeeert,” you accuse playfully, your voice regaining its vibrancy. “i knew it! you only love me for my tits. that’s literally what you first noticed when we first met under gresit.”
a sharp scoff immediately escaped him, rolling his eyes at your uncouthness, but he didn’t raise his head. his cheek remained pressed against your chest, as though he couldn’t bear to part from your asset. pretty little hypocrite, you thought fondly. “what i first noticed was how much of an obnoxious brat you are. your voice grated on my nerves before your tits came into view.”
your eyes met his golden ones, challenging him with that familiar, defiant gaze of yours he’s grown so fond of. you both held your breath, waiting. a short moment passed before you were both erupting into a soft fit laughter. his voice, melodious, honeyed velvet, carried a buoyant warmth, absent of his otherwise cool and measured control.
sighs of contentment escaped you both when your laughter began to ease, both your cheeks dusted a faint, rosy pink. it tugged at your heart each time to see him laugh so freely, to know you bring this side out of him.
“. . . ‘drian?” your free hand extended to frame his cheek, letting your thumb gently graze his pale cheeks.
“hm?”
“i love you.”
“and i you, dragă. always.” he lowered his head. his lips met yours once more, sliding perfectly and tenderly against your own, lost in a rhythm you’ve both long since memorized.
“say it again.” you murmur, soft in your command. and he obliged. of course he did. his pale hand untangled with yours to cup your face, his lips meeting your forehead, “i love you, iubita mea.” he murmurs, my beloved, against your skin.
“now, up you get.” he untangled himself from you, but you notice the slight hitch in his movement, a subtle yet imperceptible hesitation to part from your warmth. it soothes you, to learn him so besotted by you under all that carefully crafted grace.
he gave your thigh a soft pat once he’d fully slipped out the bed, “market day, yes? i recall you mentioning wanting to decorate the castle.”
“yes!”
the consequence, really? having a loverboy who’s dedicated himself to worshipping every soft inches of you.
𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸 𝐿𝐸𝒯𝒯𝐸ℛ.ᐟ ⸻ omggg nonnie i LOVE the idea of roughhousing with alucard, this awoken something in me >.< it always starts playful and oh-so innocent— chasing you, laughing, grabbing your hands when he finally catches you, but adrian has a habit of lingering once he pins you down. honestly, he just likes the excuse to keep you right there beneath him a little longer ❤︎
𝐼𝒩𝒮𝑃𝒪 𝑇𝑅𝒜𝒞𝒦.ᐟ ⨾ the party & the after party, the weeknd
how it starts? well, of course you tease him. that’s usually the first mistake.
at times, you flick his shoulder, or shove him lightly when he’s being smug. but today, you opt on snatching the book out of his hands just to pry out a reaction. you plot a diversion; tap on one shoulder, and rip it out his grasp while he’s looking the other way.
adrian looks at you incredulously as he raises one neat brow, lips curling into a faint smile.
“oh, so we’re stealing now?”
before you can answer, he steps closer. you push him first, palms against his chest, trying to move him back. he doesn’t budge. vampire strength. absolutely unfair.
he laughs softly when you try again, hands catching your wrists before you can escape.
“release me at once, dhampir!” you try to sound serious, but incessant giggles slip through.
“running already, hm? what’s the matter, afraid i might eat you?”
you twist out of his grip and laugh, darting away through the hall.
he gives way for the chase immediately, book since forgotten. he runs in long strides, boot-heels thudding against pristine halls, embroidered coat swishing behind him like a dark wing.
you maneuver around oak wood desks, zip through the reading room, run up the endless spiral staircase, and he follows suit with your every attempt to hide.
you’re several paces ahead of him, and that’s how you know he’s taking it easy on you. so you goad him on, stick your tongue out at him. he suddenly decides that holding back is no fun.
adrian returns to his regular pace in a millisecond, wind whipping from the sheer force of him as he catches you. he grabs you around the waist from behind, pulling you into the solid plane of his chest.
you squeal and try to pry his hands off, both of you stumbling and giggling as you haphazardly bump into surrounding furniture.
you turn in his arms, shoving his broad shoulders, and suddenly you’re face-to-face, fingers tangled together, both trying to overpower one other. there’s laughing, breathless and light as you squeeze his gloved palms.
you push him back a step. he lets you think you’re winning, only for about three seconds.
then he shifts his weight.
in one smooth motion, he catches both your wrists and pins them above your head.
you struggle and end up falling back against the carpeted floor with a soft thud, and adrian follows immediately, weight braced above you so you can’t slip away. his hair falls forward like pale silk around both of you.
the air grows warm, and for a second, neither of you speak. the laughter fades into quiet breathing. your hands are still trapped in his.
his chest is rising slowly from the chase, honey eyes darkening just slightly as he realizes how close you are.
“you’re troublesome,” adrian murmurs. though he doesn’t move away.
instead he lowers himself just enough that his weight settles more firmly over you — not crushing, just inescapable. he settles over you and just stays there a moment, watching you with that soft, amused look while the teasing slowly melts into something warmer.
his thumb brushes your wrist without thinking, and the playfulness shifts into something far heavier.
you look up at him with wide eyes, panting softly with your hair fanned out beneath you. your legs shift beneath him, and his gaze drops briefly to your lips.
“should i let you up?” he asks softly, but the way he says it makes it very clear he has no intention of doing that yet. adrian finds himself to enjoy the control just a bit too much.
he leans closer, just enough that his breath brushes your cheek. his voice, all deep and saccharine, drops into that low, teasing murmur.
“or would you like to try escaping again?”
and even though you both know you probably can’t win, the game isn’t over yet.
not when you’re still pinned beneath him.
his hands hold your wrists above your head, fingers loosely hooked around them now rather than restraining you. the play fight has already been won; he knows it, and the quiet confidence in his expression says as much.
you shift beneath him, just enough that your hips brush against his by accident.
alucard stills.
the mirth that had been dancing in his eyes fades into something slower, more intent. a quiet breath leaves him as he adjusts his weight slightly, settling more comfortably over you.
“careful,” he murmurs, voice low with amusement.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you bat your lashes up at him, all teasing and innocent. but you move again— this time deliberately. it’s ever-so-subtle, just a slight shift of your hips under his, testing the closeness between your bodies. the movement draws the faintest reaction from him; a small inhale through his nose, bright eyes narrowing slightly as he watches you.
“ah,” he drawls softly, “so that’s the game now.”
you tug lightly at your captured wrists, but he doesn’t release them. instead he lowers them just enough that your hands rest against the floor beside your head, his fingers still threaded loosely with yours.
his body presses a little closer. the space between you disappears. when you move again this time, he answers the motion, with a slow, controlled, barely more than gentle roll of his own. the movement is almost lazy. almost teasing.
you swallow down the moan pitching in your throat, gnawing at your bottom lip. your laughter has long since faded, replaced by quiet breaths and the faint rustle of his coat against the floor. a lock of golden hair slips forward over his shoulder as he leans down slightly, bringing his face closer to yours.
“you started this, you know,” he recalls, but his voice is softer now. he delivers another light shift of his pelvis to mingle with your own, bodies moving against one another in slow, absentminded rhythms,neither of you quite pulling away.
“a—adrian,” you breathe out his name, unsure of what for. he simply smiles, his thumb tracing lightly over your knuckles. you aren’t sure what you got yourself into, but you like it. he can tell that much.
“should i stop,” he murmurs near your ear, “or are you enjoying losing?”
and the way he grinds against you again makes it rather clear that he’s in no rush to put an end to your fun.
Jujutsu Kaisen | Ep55 | So many things have stopped mattering lately, so I’ve been challenging myself to try things I assumed I shouldn’t do. I’ve basically gone off the rails after hitting my mid-30s.
