No one can ever get mad at Toph and Zuko shipping because truly the reasons people ship them are:
- they are both pretty
- they are both single (in the movie)
- red and green
- why not
It’s funny because they’re probably the most similar to each other out of the gaang (Iroh pointed this out himself), but it’s true, there never was a real reason to ship them before aside from a minority of people saying Zuko could be Lin’s real father (nothing to prove that, but speculation is fun hehe).
It’s simultaneously impossible to prove they ever had feelings for each other, and also not completely out there based on their adult personalities. This ship is comepletely for fun and that's something I can get around.
𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇.ᐟ ۶ৎ omggg i love this question yum! (˶>⩊<˶) had to take my time answering this 'cause i wanted to capture just how thoroughly he fucks . adrian is practically a connoisseur in the art of lovemaking . . . he adores any and every way he can have you. he isn’t picky at all! that being said, he still harbors some favorites! and when it comes to positions? oh, it has to be missionary. in everyyy single lifetime. whether it’s legs up, a pillow under your back, or thighs locked around his waist, he doesn't mind one bit >.< he just loves having access to your body, mind, and soul all at once ❤︎
adrian cherishes every second of being inside you like this.
moonlight spills like silver over his back, catching the marble-like curve of his shoulders before tracing the jagged, fleshy pink scar that cuts a defiant line across his pale chest. alucard doesn't simply touch you — it’s never that simple with him. love making is, as he puts it, a devout practice. and like that of a sacred prayer, he fucks you in the ancient rhythm of missionary.
adrian adores this feeling — sinking into the soft silk of your constricting walls until there’s no imaginable space left between your body and his own, all as he grinds his pulsing cock into you. his large hands, pale and heavy, slide over the velvet of your warm brown skin slowly, pulling you possessively close, his fingers lacing with yours as he anchors you to sheets of cool satin. his long blonde hair falls in a golden, shimmering veil around your faces, shielding the world away, while his golden eyes burn behind light lashes, fixed entirely on you.
“mm . . . that’s right, iubire,” adrian groans, the sound deep and honey-sweet as it vibrates into the sensitive hollow of your ear. he moves with a slow, worshipful grace, pressing soft kisses to the tip of your nose, the curve of your knuckles, where his own heavy hands remain deeply interlaced, the corner of your plush, agape mouth — everywhere he can manage to reach, to dote on.
he traces the delicate line of your lashes with his lips, and you can feel the dampened heat of his breath an instant before his mouth presses softly onto the flutter of your closed eyelids, a tender mercy while you lose yourself in the thick, delicious stretch of his cock.
there’s an ironic gentleness in his large hands as they keep you anchored to the bed, even as your back bows when you tremble beneath him. god, he loves this — the way this position leaves every inch of you vulnerable to his every whim. he releases one hand just to tap your cheek, a touch so light and gentle it’s almost a tease, his golden eyes and burning with a warm, near-climax glow as he peers down at your flushed skin.
“please, my sweet . . . open your eyes, let me see them.” he whispers breathlessly, delivering a nice, slow roll of his hips. you moan in a way that makes his fangs ache, and his tongue darts out hungrily to graze them. “i want you to look at me when i'm fucking you like this.”
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 your 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.
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. He 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 in 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 yours.
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 lip 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. Just like I’ve been doing, yes?”
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.
Monsoon Games is a small indie game studio that creates cozy, narrative-driven games where choices matter. We are passionate about making games that feature diverse characters and forefront underrepresented stories & perspectives.
Website | Patreon | Ko-fi | Discord
Whether it’s about pursuing glory and forging lasting relationships in the coming-of-age sports game (College Tennis: Origin Story), or the bittersweet struggle to figure out where ‘home’ is, when torn between two worlds (Merry Crisis), or quietly carving out a new life running a space diner on a distant moon (Space Diner-WIP), our games are united by a deep focus on character-driven storytelling.
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College Tennis: Origin Story
Sports x Slice-of-life x Romance x Coming-of-age x Found-family x College x Modern
Step onto the court and into the whirlwind life of a freshman at Cargill University, where tennis isn’t just a game—it’s everything.
College Tennis: Origin Story is a thrilling, character-driven interactive fiction game that plunges you into the heart of a journey to reclaim the NCAA Div I championship title. Compete in fast-paced singles and doubles matches alongside your teammates, all while navigating the pressures of college life.
Forge lasting friendships, pursue budding romances, face fierce rivals, and experience the emotional highs and lows of pursuing greatness both on and off the court.
Will you make a name for yourself as one of the most promising college tennis players in history? Or will the pressure prove too much for you to handle?
Demo | Dedicated blog | Main Post | Characters | Dev log | COG forum | Crowdsourced playlists
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Merry Crisis
Non-Euro-centric x Romance-focused x Slice-of-life x Queer x Coming-of-age
Merry crisis is an intimate, contemplative visual novel about figuring out whether home is what you’ve left behind, or where you’re headed.
Your carefully-constructed life in New York has just fallen apart. Your 4-year relationship has unraveled, you need to find a new apartment to rent, and career-wise, you teeter on the edge of burnout.
Now, you’re flying back to Singapore for Christmas, and your family will most certainly ask when you’re returning home for good.
Between family dinners that turn into interrogations, a tense reunion with your first-love, unexpected sparks with a charming neighbor, and late-night walks through a city both familiar and foreign, the week back home throws up more questions than answers.
As the days tick down to the New Year, you’ll need to decide: will you hold onto the life you’ve built in America, or circle back to the one you left behind in Singapore? Second chances or fresh starts?
Steam Page | Steam Demo | Official Press Kit for VN
Text-based demo | Dedicated blog | Features | Cast of characters | Dev log | COG forum | Crowdsourced playlists
__________________________________
Author corner
About me
Allie, 28, she/her. Useless dumb-jock who lives for good coffee, sunshine, hikes/bikes, and slow sunday mornings. Urban planner by day, writer by night.
Send in asks, and messages to: @allieebobo (main), or at the dedicated blog handles @collegetennisoriginstory and @merrycrisis-if.
What I’m currently:
Writing: Chapter Six for Merry Crisis
Reading: The Kamogawa Food Detectives by Hisashi Kashiwai
Summary: When Heeseung sneaks out one night for a quiet bowl of ramen, he never expects to meet you, a tired doctor just trying to survive another shift. A viral misunderstanding turns your lives upside down, forcing you both into a fake engagement neither asked for.
Note: I am slowly completing all my works I had written halfway through and was just in my drafts. Also, this is the first one that I am writing for a member other than Jay. I hope you all like it. Any type of interaction is appreciated. 🤍
The neon signs of Seoul buzzed faintly in the humid air, painting streaks of red and blue over the quiet street. Past midnight, the time when fame could finally breathe.
Lee Heeseung tugged the hood of his oversized sweatshirt lower, a mask hiding most of his face. He’d slipped out of the dorm silently, telling the manager he needed “a walk.” The members were asleep, exhausted after a 14-hour shoot, but Heeseung’s mind wouldn’t stop replaying the noise, cheers, cameras, fake smiles, and the endless cycle of being watched.
He just wanted ramen. Hot, greasy, cheap ramen. The kind he hadn’t eaten since a long time. The kind that didn’t come with fans snapping photos outside the restaurant.
He ducked into a small alleyway ramen shop. The kind with peeling wallpaper and the comforting scent of broth. The bell above the door chimed softly. Only one other person sat there, hunched over a steaming bowl, still wearing her hospital ID.
A doctor.
You barely noticed the newcomer at first, too focused on your noodles and the blessed warmth they brought after a double shift in the ER. Your eyes were tired, your fingers faintly red from constant sanitizers. It wasn’t until the stranger took off his hood to glance at the menu that your breath hitched.
Lee Heeseung. Of ENHYPEN.
Your heart almost stopped. You blinked twice, convincing yourself it was sleep deprivation. But there was no mistaking those eyes, sharp yet soft, framed by exhaustion.
Oh my God. Oh my God, it’s him.
Your brain screamed internally, but you kept your head down, staring at your ramen as if the broth had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world. You couldn’t let him know you recognized him. He probably wanted peace. He deserved peace.
You heard him order, voice low and polite. Then the scrape of a chair next to yours.
Out of all the seats. He sat beside you.
You almost forgot how to breathe.
Heeseung noticed your subtle stiffness and smiled faintly under his mask. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, taking it off. “I’m not contagious.”
Your laugh slipped out before you could stop it. A small, tired sound that made him glance at you again.
“Sorry,” you said quickly. “I just— it’s been a long day.”
He nodded. “Same.”
For a moment, silence filled the space between them. Just the sound of slurping noodles, the rain starting outside, and the quiet hum of the vending machine.
Then, Heeseung spoke again, voice softer this time. “You work at Seoul General?” He nodded towards your ID.
You blinked, glancing down. “Uh— yeah. How’d you—”
“The badge,” he said, smiling slightly. “I’m not psychic.”
“Oh. Right.” You flushed. “Emergency department.”
Heeseung whistled softly. “That sounds brutal.”
“It is,” you admitted. “But… it’s kind of my dream. I get to help people, you know? Even if it means no sleep.”
He nodded slowly, stirring his noodles. “Must be nice. Having a dream that’s still yours.”
Your head tilted. “Still yours?”
He met you gaze then. Really met it. And for a fleeting second, you saw through the idol façade. The exhaustion. The loneliness of being adored by millions but known by none.
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like mine anymore,” he said quietly. “Feels like I’m just… maintaining someone else’s version of me.”
The honesty in his tone startled you. You didn’t know what to say. Maybe he didn’t need words. Maybe he just needed to say it aloud.
“Well,” you finally said, “for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing fine. Better than fine, actually. People look up to you.”
He smiled faintly. “You sound like my company PR rep.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He chuckled, the first real one that night, and the tension eased.
You both ate in companionable silence after that, two strangers sharing a moment of peace. You tried not to stare, but Heeseung’s presence was magnetic. The quiet confidence, the way his eyes softened when he looked at the rain.
When you both finished, Heeseung stood up first and placed some cash on the counter before you could reach for your wallet.
“You don’t have to—”
“Consider it a thank-you,” he interrupted. “For not freaking out or… you know, taking pictures.”
Your eyes widened. “I wouldn’t. I mean— I’m not that kind of fan.”
His lips twitched. “You are a fan then?”
Your cheeks heated. “Maybe a little. But I’m also a doctor. Confidentiality is kind of my thing.”
That made him laugh again. “Good to know.”
He tore off a small piece of napkin, scribbled something on it, and handed it to you. “An autograph. Just so you don’t regret not asking later.”
You blinked at the messy scrawl of Lee Heeseung ♡.
“Thank you,” you said softly.
He nodded. “And… maybe keep this between us, yeah?”
“Of course.”
As he left, the bell chimed again, and the night swallowed him back into its quiet loneliness.
You stared at the napkin for a long time before tucking it safely into your coat pocket. It felt like a strange dream. The kind that left warmth in its wake.
You didn’t know that by morning, that warmth would burn into chaos.
The next day began like any other. You walked into the hospital, yawning and checking your phone between coffee sips until a notification nearly made you drop the cup.
Dispatch Exclusive: ENHYPEN’s Lee Heeseung spotted on a late-night date with mystery woman!
Your heart stopped.
You clicked the link, and there it was. A grainy video from outside the ramen shop. The headline screamed “Lee Heeseung’s Secret Girlfriend?” and the comment section was already exploding. The footage showed you both sitting side by side, laughing softly.
Your blood ran cold.
Oh no. Oh no no no.
At the same moment across Seoul, Heeseung sat frozen on his couch, staring at the same article, disbelief twisting into anger.
“How the hell did this get out?” he muttered, jaw tight. His phone buzzed non-stop. Managers, PR, even Jungwon and Jay.
“Hyung, what happened?!” Jungwon’s panicked voice came through the speaker.
“I don’t know,” Heeseung snapped. “It was just— some random girl! We just ate ramen!”
“HYBE’s calling a meeting,” Jay said grimly. “You’d better get here now.”
Heeseung grabbed his jacket, fury simmering under his calm mask. The girl. You. You must’ve taken the video. Who else could’ve known?
He’d trusted you, for one quiet night, and you’d sold him out for a headline.
By the time you were summoned to HYBE’s office later that afternoon, the sky had turned an ominous grey. You sat in the waiting room, heart pounding, trying not to hyperventilate. You had never been to a place like this. It was very sleek, intimidating, filled with people who looked at you like you were the villain in their movie.
Heeseung walked in.
And the air froze.
He didn’t greet you. Didn’t even look at you fully. Just said coldly, “So, you’re the one who wanted your five minutes of fame?”
Your heart cracked. “What?”
“You got it,” he continued, voice low and sharp. “I trusted you for one night, and this is what you do?”
“I didn’t— Heeseung, I didn’t tell anyone! I swear!”
He scoffed. “Right. Because videos just magically appear on gossip sites.”
Tears stung your eyes, but you bit them back. “I didn’t do it. I wouldn’t. I—”
“Stop,” he said flatly. “We’ll handle it from here.”
Before you could respond, his manager stepped in, face tense. “Heeseung, the company’s decided. We’ll address the media. You’ll tell them she’s your fiancée.”
Heeseung’s head snapped up. “What?”
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
“It’s the only way to control the narrative,” the manager said briskly. “Fans will calm down if they think it’s serious. Your parents have already been informed, Heeseung. They’re… thrilled.”
Heeseung felt his world tilt.
You just sat there, shell-shocked, heart pounding so loud you could barely hear.
Fiancée?
Your phone buzzed. A message from your mother.
Mom: Is it true? You’re dating Lee Heeseung?! We’re so proud of you, sweetie!
You looked up at Heeseung, eyes wide and terrified.
And in that moment, he realized. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding. It was a trap you were both already caught in.
The next morning, Seoul woke up to chaos.
#ENHYPEN_HEESEUNGGIRLFRIEND trended worldwide.
Every news outlet replayed the same shaky footage. Heeseung in a hoodie, a mystery woman beside him, their heads bent close, laughter lost in the hum of the ramen shop.
To you, it felt surreal, like watching someone else’s life implode on a screen. Only, it was your name being whispered across the internet. Your face blurred in the video thumbnails. Your hospital colleagues whispering behind their masks.
“That’s Dr. Y/N, right? The one from ER?”
“Oh my god, she’s dating Heeseung from ENHYPEN?”
“She doesn’t look like an idol’s type though…”
Your stomach churned.
By noon, you received an official message from HYBE requesting your presence again. The tone was polite. Almost too polite, which made it worse.
When you arrived, cameras already swarmed the front gate. You tried to sneak in through the side, head low, cap pulled tight, but the flashes still caught you.
“Miss, are you Heeseung’s girlfriend?”“Is this a publicity stunt?”
“How long have you two been dating?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Heeseung was already there, seated at the long table in a sleek black suit that did nothing to hide the storm in his eyes. The rest of ENHYPEN sat nearby. Jay, Jake, Jungwon, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Ni-ki, watching with quiet discomfort.
Your throat felt dry as you sat across from him. Your eyes met. His cold and accusing, yours wide with hurt.
The PR director cleared her throat. “Given the circumstances, we’ve decided on a unified statement. The article has gained too much traction to deny, and Heeseung’s parents have expressed approval. The public announcement will identify Miss Y/N as Heeseung’s fiancée.”
Heeseung’s jaw tightened. “You can’t be serious.”
“This minimizes damage,” the director said briskly. “We’ll control the narrative. The public already adores the idea. A hardworking doctor and a famous idol. It’s clean, romantic, and stabilizes your image.”
“I don’t need a fake romance to stabilize my image,” Heeseung snapped.
“But you need to protect your career,” she replied smoothly.
Silence fell. Heavy. Final.
Your hands clenched in your lap. “What about me?” You asked softly. “My job? My reputation?”
The director smiled. The kind of smile that wasn’t kind at all. “You’ll be taken care of. We’ll issue a statement saying your families arranged the match. Your hospital will likely appreciate the publicity.”
Heeseung scoffed under his breath. “Unbelievable.”
You wanted to scream. But all you could do was sit there, small and helpless, as the world decided your future.
That evening, the news broke again. This time, officially.
HYBE CONFIRMS: ENHYPEN’s Lee Heeseung engaged to ER Doctor in an arranged marriage!
“Their families have known each other for years,” the statement read. “Please support them with warmth and respect.”
Your phone exploded with messages.
Mom: Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell us sooner? Heeseung’s parents called. They said they’re so happy! We’ll meet them next week for the engagement dinner!
Best friend: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE ENGAGED TO LEE HEESEUNG???
Supervisor: We need to discuss your leave of absence. The media is causing a disturbance.
You stared at the messages until the words blurred.
Then came the call from your mother again, voice trembling with excitement. “Oh, honey, you have no idea how long your father’s wanted to see you settled! Heeseung’s such a good boy. He’s famous, polite, handsome—”
“Mom,” You interrupted, voice breaking. “It’s not— it’s not what you think.”
“What do you mean?”
But you couldn’t explain. Because even if you did, no one would believe you. The world already had its story.
A few days later, you both met again. This time at Heeseung’s apartment.
HYBE insisted you move in together for the image. Paparazzi had already spotted moving vans.
You stood awkwardly by the door, clutching a small suitcase, feeling like you’d walked into someone else’s life.
Heeseung barely looked up from the couch. “You can take the guest room.”
“Thanks,” you said quietly, stepping inside.
The silence was painful.
You’d imagined what it would be like living with a celebrity before. Glamorous, exciting, full of laughter maybe. Not this. Not cold silence and walls that seemed too clean, too empty.
Heeseung finally stood, brushing past you towards the kitchen. “Don’t get comfortable. As soon as this dies down, we’ll tell the media we broke up.”
Your chest tightened. “You still think I leaked that video, don’t you?”
He turned, eyes sharp. “Should I not?”
You flinched. “I told you I didn’t—”
“Then who did?” he demanded. “Because the only people there that night were you, me, and the shop owner.”
“Maybe your stalker!” You snapped back, anger finally spilling through. “You said you wanted peace that night. Maybe someone followed you!”
The accusation seemed to catch him off guard, but his pride didn’t let him show it. He scoffed instead. “Convenient excuse.”
Your eyes burned. “You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t need to.” His voice was flat, cutting. “I’ve met enough people who smile nice and stab harder.”
You swallowed hard, forcing your tears down. “Then I’ll stay out of your way.”
“Good.”
He turned back toward his room, the conversation ending like a slammed door.
You stood there in the quiet apartment, surrounded by the echoes of a life you didn’t belong in.
Days turned into weeks.
Heeseung’s schedule grew relentless with photoshoots, rehearsals, interviews and your shifts were no kinder. You both barely saw each other except at dawn, passing like ghosts in the hallway.
But even silence has edges. And sometimes, those edges softened.
One night, you returned from the hospital long after midnight, exhaustion etched deep into your bones. You slipped off your shoes and froze. There was a blanket lay folded neatly on the couch. A cup of warm tea steamed faintly beside it.
Heeseung wasn’t home, but the gesture was unmistakable.
He must’ve left it for you.
The next morning, when Heeseung came back from practice, he found a small lunchbox on the counter with a sticky note.
“Eat something that isn’t instant coffee. – Y/N”
He stared at it for a long moment, something unsteady flickering in his chest. He didn’t say thank you. But he ate every bite.
By the second week, the other members began teasing him mercilessly.
“Hyung, are you sure it’s fake?” Ni-ki asked with a grin one evening during practice.
Heeseung glared. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jake snickered. “You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot lately. She texting you?”
“I’m not—”
Jay raised an eyebrow. “We’re just saying, you’ve been less of a grump since she moved in.”
Heeseung threw a towel at them, trying to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Shut up and get back to work.”
Meanwhile, you found yourself glancing at your phone more than usual, too. Not because you expected messages, but because you kept catching glimpses of Heeseung on your feed. Concert clips, interviews, fancams.
He looked different on stage— brighter, freer, magnetic.
It hurt a little, realizing how little of that version of him you got to see.
And yet, when he came home tired, messy-haired, half asleep, you found yourself quietly setting out a glass of water for him before heading to bed.
It wasn’t much. Just care. Simple, quiet care.
A week later, HYBE called again. This time, for a joint interview.
To “solidify the image of a loving couple.”
Heeseung almost refused, but the look on your face, weary, resigned, stopped him. You didn’t deserve more public scrutiny.
So, you both went.
The set was warm, cameras flashing, reporters smiling too brightly. Heeseung’s hand brushed yours under the table— an accident, maybe, but he didn’t pull away.
When asked how they met, you hesitated. Heeseung answered smoothly, “Through mutual acquaintances.”
When asked what you liked about him, you managed, “He’s… surprisingly kind when he wants to be.”
He glanced at you, just briefly, and something in his chest shifted.
By the end of the interview, the internet was ablaze again. But this time, with adoration.
“They look so genuine!”
“Heeseung’s smile when he looked at her! Omg😭”
“I ship them for real.”
Heeseung scrolled through the comments later that night, exhaling slowly. Maybe this wouldn’t be as unbearable as he thought.
But deep down, guilt still lingered. Because every time you looked at him, he saw the hurt he’d caused when he didn’t believe you. And for the first time in his life, fame didn’t feel heavy. Regret did.
The sound of wedding bells wasn’t supposed to make your chest feel hollow.
But when you stood under the soft lights of the private ceremony hall, cameras hidden behind floral arrangements, company executives pretending to be guests, all you could think was how fake it all felt.
You and Heeseung stood side by side in front of the officiant, a perfect picture for the media to release later. His jaw was tight, hands clasped neatly in front of him, not touching yours even once.
The vows had been prewritten. “A beautiful union between two families who value tradition and love.”
Love.
You almost laughed.
Heeseung said his lines with perfect composure, every word sounding rehearsed. You followed, your voice trembling just slightly.
When the ceremony ended, you both bowed to the small crowd of HYBE representatives and both sets of parents, then turned to face each other for the final step. The symbolic ring exchange.
Heeseung slipped the ring on your finger without looking up.
You did the same.
The cameras clicked.
And just like that, you were married.
Later that night, in the car back to your apartment, silence hung between you both like fog.
You turned the ring on your finger, staring at it. “Your parents seemed… really happy.”
Heeseung let out a humorless laugh. “They’ve wanted this since I was born. ‘A nice, educated girl who can ground you.’ Guess they got their wish.”
“I didn’t ask for this either,” you said quietly.
“I know.” His voice softened just a little. “But we’re in it now.”
You looked out the window at the flashing city lights. “How long do we keep pretending?”
He didn’t answer right away. “Until the world stops watching.”
You nodded slowly. “Right.”
But deep down, you wondered if that would ever happen.
Your “honeymoon” — another PR move, was a weekend photoshoot in Jeju.
The ocean was beautiful, the sky perfectly blue, but everything felt staged.
You were told to “look in love” for the camera. Heeseung placed his hand around your waist, smiled on cue, whispered lines the photographer fed him.
And you smiled too, but it hurt. Every click of the camera was a reminder that your life wasn’t yours anymore.
That night, when the crew packed up, they sat on the beach in silence, watching the waves.
“You’re good at pretending,” you said finally.
Heeseung looked over, surprised. “What?”
“You act like you’re fine all the time. Like it doesn’t bother you.”
He gave a small, tired smile. “It’s my job.”
“Doesn’t it ever get lonely?”
His expression faltered. “Every day.”
Something inside you softened.
“You know,” you murmured, “I used to think fame was glamorous. But you look… tired, Heeseung. Really tired.”
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s because it is tiring. You spend every waking moment being someone else. Then one day, you realize you’ve forgotten who you actually are.”
Your chest ached. “That sounds awful.”
“It is,” he admitted quietly. “But tonight—” He looked at you, eyes reflecting the ocean light. “—it doesn’t feel that bad.”
Your breath caught.
For a second, it wasn’t fake. For a second, you forgot there were cameras, contracts, rumors.
Just him and you, sitting by the waves, both aching in their own ways.
When you returned to Seoul, something between you both had changed.
It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. But it wasn’t hostility anymore either.
You learned to exist around each other.
You cooked breakfast when you had the time. Heeseung sometimes left your favorite snacks on the counter before leaving for schedules. You didn’t talk much, but the quiet felt less like walls and more like… understanding.
One night, when Heeseung returned from a live broadcast, you were asleep on the couch, medical papers scattered around you. Your glasses had slid down your nose, hair messy, exhaustion written all over you.
He hesitated for a moment, then gently pulled the blanket over your shoulders.
His fingers brushed your cheek, soft and brief, before he pulled away.
“Goodnight,” he whispered.
You stirred slightly, murmuring something half-asleep. His name.
And Heeseung froze.
It shouldn’t have meant anything. But it did.
A few days later, you came home early, surprised to find the members hanging out in their living room. Jungwon and Ni-ki on the floor with snacks, Jake scrolling on his phone, Jay humming softly.
“Oh— I didn’t know you guys were here,” you said, startled.
Sunoo beamed. “Y/N! You’re back!”
Heeseung looked up from the couch, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We were just hanging out.”
“Do you want some ramyeon?” Jungwon offered, holding up a pot.
You laughed. “You guys really eat this much?”
Jake grinned. “Heeseung’s been obsessed with it lately. Wonder why.”
Heeseung shot him a look, but his ears turned pink.
You rolled your eyes, amused, and joined them for dinner. The members were loud, chaotic, endlessly teasing Heeseung. For the first time in weeks, you laughed. Really laughed.
Later, after everyone left, Heeseung stood in the kitchen cleaning up.
“You know,” You said softly, leaning against the counter, “you’re lucky to have them.”
He looked over. “Yeah. They’re my family.”
“Must be nice,” you murmured.
“You don’t have siblings?”
“One younger brother,” you said with a smile. “But my parents are doctors too. We were always busy.”
He nodded. “Guess we both grew up chasing perfection.”
Your eyes met, and for a moment, neither looked away.
There was something unspoken there. An understanding, fragile and real.
As weeks passed, small moments began to blur the line between fake and real.
When you caught a cold, Heeseung left his schedule early and brought yo medicine, pretending it was because “HYBE would kill him if their PR wife died.” But his voice trembled just enough to give him away.
When Heeseung had a rough night, overwhelmed by exhaustion and the noise of fame, you found him sitting on the balcony, hoodie pulled over his head, eyes unfocused.
You didn’t say anything. Just brought him tea and sat beside him in silence.
After a while, he whispered, “You don’t have to stay.”
“I know.”
“But you did anyway,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” you said. “Because you needed someone to.”
He looked at you then. Really looked. And something in his chest loosened.
But not everything was easy.
The world still watched. Every glance between you both was dissected online. Every photo analyzed. Some fans sent hate, calling you unworthy.
One night, you came home late, scrolling through the comments. Cruel, mocking words staring at you through the screen.
She’s not even pretty.
She’s just using him for fame.
She looks like she doesn’t belong next to him.
Your throat tightened. You slammed your phone face-down and pressed your palms over your eyes, fighting tears.
Heeseung walked in just then, stopping when he saw your shaking shoulders.
“Hey, what happened?”
You looked up quickly, wiping your cheeks. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
He frowned, stepping closer. “You’re crying.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me.” His tone was gentle but firm.
Something in you broke. “Do you have any idea what it’s like being hated for something you didn’t even do? For being with someone who doesn’t even want you there?”
Heeseung froze.
You laughed bitterly, voice cracking. “They think I’m lucky, Heeseung. But I feel like I’ve lost everything.”
He didn’t know what to say. Guilt twisted in his chest like a knife. Because you were right. He’d made your life harder, accused you, hurt you.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally, voice raw. “For… everything. For not believing you. For making this harder than it already is.”
You looked at him, eyes red, searching. “Do you mean that?”
He nodded, quietly. “Yeah. I do.”
And you believed him.
A week later, Heeseung had to leave for a world tour. The apartment felt emptier without him. Quieter, colder. But every few days, you’d wake up to a text.
Heeseung: Did you eat?
Heeseung: Don’t forget your umbrella.
Heeseung: Your favorite ramen place added delivery now. Thought you’d like that.
You smiled every time, your heart aching in that sweet, unbearable way.
One night, after a particularly long shift, you came home to find a small package at the door. It was a snow globe of Paris, one of the stops on his tour.
Inside, a tiny note read: “For when I’m not there. – Heeseung.”
You sat on the couch, clutching it to your chest.
Somewhere along the line, you’d stopped pretending.
The apartment had changed.
Not in appearance. It was the same minimalist decor, the same scent of coffee and faint cologne. But in atmosphere.
It felt different.
Warmer. Quieter. More alive.
Maybe it was because Heeseung had started leaving small things behind when he returned from tour. Postcards from each city, trinkets you never asked for but always smiled at. Or maybe it was the way your heart didn’t race from discomfort anymore, but from something gentler. Something you didn’t dare name.
When he finally returned from tour, it was raining.
You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through patient reports, when the door clicked open. Heeseung stood there, suitcase in hand, hoodie damp from the drizzle.
“You’re back,” you said, standing up before you could stop yourself.
“I’m back,” he echoed, smiling faintly. “Miss me?”
You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched. “You wish.”
He laughed softly, setting his bag down. “You didn’t have to wait up.”
“I wasn’t,” you lied.
You both knew you were.
He glanced around. The apartment looked the same, but somehow felt like home. There was a blanket draped neatly over the couch, the faint smell of chamomile tea lingering in the air.
“I brought you something,” he said, reaching into his bag. He handed you a small box.
Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, simple but elegant.
“Heeseung…”
“It’s not much,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just saw it and thought you’d like it.”
You smiled softly, eyes glimmering. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
He met your gaze and felt something in his chest tighten. Your smile was real. Tired but warm. And he realized he wanted to see it more often.
“Welcome home,” you said quietly.
And somehow, it felt like the most genuine thing anyone had said to him in a long time.
The following weeks were a blur of quiet domesticity.
You worked your exhausting hospital shifts; Heeseung juggled recording and photoshoots. Yet somehow, always found small pockets of time for each other.
You’d come home to find him asleep on the couch, hair messy, TV still playing softly.
He’d wake up to you cooking breakfast, humming under your breath.
You both didn’t need to talk much. Silence between you wasn’t heavy anymore. It was easy. Safe.
One evening, Heeseung knocked on your bedroom door.
“Yeah?”
He peeked in, holding a bag of takeout. “Ramen?”
You laughed. “You’re still obsessed.”
“Hey, it’s tradition,” he said, grinning. “You, me, and noodles.”
You both ate on the balcony, watching the city lights twinkle below.
“You know,” you said between bites, “I think this is the first time I’ve had a normal dinner with someone in months.”
Heeseung chuckled. “Same. Unless you count eating backstage while a makeup artist touches up your face.”
You smiled faintly. “Sounds glamorous.”
“It’s not.” He paused, eyes softening. “This— this feels better.”
Your heart fluttered. You quickly looked away. “Don’t get used to it. I have a night shift tomorrow.”
He smiled, teasing. “So, you do enjoy my company.”
“Don’t push your luck, Heeseung.”
But you were smiling.
It was subtle, but something had shifted.
Heeseung started showing up at the hospital on his rare days off, disguised in a mask and baseball cap to drop off lunch for you. The nurses whispered behind their hands, half in shock, half in awe.
“Your husband’s really handsome,” one of them whispered.
You flushed. “He’s… not my— I mean— we’re just—”
The nurse smirked. “Right. Sure.”
That afternoon, you texted him.
Y/N: You’re going to get me fired one day
Heeseung: Worth it. You looked like you needed a break.
Y/N: …thanks.
Heeseung: Anytime, doc.
You stared at the last message longer than you meant to.
One night, Heeseung came home later than usual with tired, eyes heavy. He found you asleep at the kitchen table, still in your scrubs, medical notes sprawled everywhere.
He smiled faintly and shook his head. Then, without thinking, he bent down and carefully lifted you into his arms.
You stirred slightly but didn’t wake.
As he carried you to your room, your hand unconsciously curled around his sleeve, like you didn’t want to let go.
He froze, heart pounding, chest aching in ways he couldn’t name.
He laid you gently on the bed, tucking the blanket around you. His eyes lingered on your face. It was peaceful, softer than usual.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered before he could stop himself.
Then he left the room before the feeling could consume him.
The next morning, you woke up with your glasses neatly folded on your nightstand and a blanket you didn’t remember pulling up. You frowned, then smiled faintly.
Heeseung.
It was becoming a habit. These small gestures that neither of you acknowledged aloud.
But feelings never stay quiet forever.
One evening, you were walking home from the hospital when you saw Heeseung standing outside the apartment building surrounded by fans.
You froze. They were harmless. Squealing, waving, asking for photos. But the sight made something sharp twist in your chest.
Heeseung was smiling, polite and perfect as always. But then a fan reached up to fix the collar of his jacket, and yo felt something you didn’t recognize rise inside you.
Jealousy.
The realization startled you.
When he finally came upstairs, you tried to act normal, pretending to focus on your phone.
“Rough night?” he asked, setting down his bag.
“No,” you said quickly.
He looked at you, amused. “You’re a terrible liar.”
You crossed your arms. “You were… busy downstairs.”
He blinked. “Busy?”
“With your fans.”
He tilted his head, realizing. “Were you… jealous?”
“I— No! Of course not!”
He smirked. “You totally were.”
“Heeseung,” you warned.
He chuckled, stepping closer, voice dropping lower. “You know, you’re cute when you’re flustered.”
Your heart stuttered. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re a terrible liar,” he repeated softly.
For a moment, your eyes locked. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, the tension thick in the air.
Then your phone buzzed, breaking the moment. You stepped back quickly, pretending to check it.
Heeseung smiled faintly, the corner of his mouth curling. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
After that night, something changed again.
The distance between you grew thinner, fragile, dangerous.
There were lingering looks over breakfast. Fingers brushing when you both reached for the same glass. Late-night conversations that stretched until dawn.
And every time your eyes met, the unspoken words grew louder.
I care about you.
But I don’t know how to say it.
One weekend, Heeseung surprised you with tickets to a musical.
“You need a night off,” he said when you protested. “Doctor’s orders.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“Too bad,” he said, smirking. “Husband’s orders, then.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile.
The show was beautiful. Soft lights, warm music, laughter that melted stress away. For once, you weren’t a doctor on duty. You were just… yourself.
Afterward, you both walked along the Han River, the city lights shimmering on the water.
“Thank you,” you said quietly. “For tonight.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
A soft breeze lifted your hair. You looked at him, and the moment felt suspended, fragile, precious.
Heeseung reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You deserve to be happy, you know.”
Your breath caught.
“I’m trying,” you whispered.
He smiled, heartbreakingly gentle. “Me too.”
The silence that followed was full, not empty, not awkward, just full of everything you both couldn’t yet say.
That night, when you returned home, Heeseung lingered by your door.
“Goodnight,” you said softly.
“Goodnight,” he echoed. Then, after a pause, “Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “Thank you… for staying.”
You smiled. “Always.”
And when you closed your door, your heart was pounding so loud it drowned everything else.
Neither of you realized how close you were to breaking, how much love can hide beneath silence until one night, it can’t anymore.
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and exhaustion.
You leaned against the staff room wall, your head spinning slightly as the alcohol kicked in.
Your coworkers had dragged you out for a rare night of celebration. A successful surgery, a long week survived. You’d promised yourself just one drink. Then two. Then… you’d stopped counting.
Now, your phone buzzed in your hand.
Heeseung: You still at the hospital?
Heeseung: It’s late.
You squinted at the screen, smiling drowsily.
Y/N: On my way home, bossy boy.
Heeseung: …are you drunk?
Y/N: maybe.
Y/N: maybe i’m fine. maybe i miss your stupid ramen.
Heeseung: I’m coming to get you. Stay there.
You giggled. “He’s so dramatic,” you mumbled to yourself.
Fifteen minutes later, Heeseung’s car pulled up outside the hospital. He got out, mask pulled down, hoodie up, eyes scanning until he spotted you swaying slightly under the streetlight, cheeks flushed, still in your scrubs.
He called your name and sighed, walking over.
You looked up, eyes wide and glassy. “Heeseung~ You came.”
“Of course I came,” he muttered, taking your hand. “You shouldn’t be wandering around like this.”
You blinked at your hands, then smiled softly. “Your hand’s warm.” He stilled. “…Let’s get you home.”
The ride was quiet, the city lights blurring past. You hummed softly, leaning your head against the window.
“You’re mad at me,” you said suddenly.
Heeseung glanced over. “No. I’m worried.”
“You’re always worried,” you mumbled. “Even when you pretend not to care.”
He exhaled. “Y/N…”
You turned your head, eyes hazy but honest. “Do you know how hard it is? Loving someone who doesn’t see it?”
The words hit him like a blow.
His hands tightened on the wheel. “What did you just say?”
You blinked slowly, smiling faintly. “You’re beautiful, Lee Heeseung. And so, so stupid.”
“Y/N—”
But you were already closing your eyes, whispering softly, “I love you, idiot.”
The words hung in the air, fragile and breathtaking.
Heeseung’s chest ached,his pulse thundered, and for the first time in months, he didn’t know how to breathe.
He parked the car, turning to you . You were asleep now, head resting against the seat, lashes wet from the faint trace of tears.
“Love…” he whispered, his voice trembling.
But you didn’t stir.
He reached out, brushing a stray hair from your face.
“You have no idea what you just did to me,” he murmured.
He carried you upstairs, careful not to wake you. Gently, he laid you on the bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin.
For a long time, he stood there, watching you breathe steady and peaceful.
Then he whispered the words he’d been holding back for far too long.
“I love you too.”
The next morning, you woke with a pounding headache and a heavy feeling in your chest. You groaned, shielding your eyes from the sunlight.
Your mind was a blur. Fragments of last night flickering through like pieces of a dream.
Laughter. His hand. The car ride. His voice.
And then, your breath caught.
“Do you know how hard it is? Loving someone who doesn’t see it?”
Your heart stopped.
“Oh no.”
You jumped out of bed, nearly tripping on the blanket, and ran to the kitchen.
Heeseung was there. Already dressed, making coffee.
He looked up as you stumbled in, cheeks flushed, hair messy.
“Morning,” he said softly.
“About last night—”
He handed you a glass of water. “You were drunk.”
“I— I might’ve said things—”
“You did,” he said quietly.
Your throat tightened. “Heeseung, I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean it?” he asked, eyes unreadable.
You hesitated. “I… I don’t know what I meant. I just—”
He stepped closer, setting the mug down. “Hey, look at me.”
You did — reluctantly, nervously — and his expression softened.
“Tell me you didn’t mean it,” he whispered. “Tell me you don’t love me.”
Your breath hitched. “Hee—”
“Because I can’t keep pretending anymore,” he said, voice trembling. “I can’t keep acting like this is just an arrangement. I can’t look at you every day and not say it.”
Your eyes widened.
“I love you,” he said, the words raw and honest. “I’ve loved you for months. Every little thing. The way you drink your coffee, the way you fall asleep over your notes, the way you smile when you think no one’s watching. You’ve ruined me.”
Tears welled in your eyes. “You don’t mean that—”
“I do.”
He stepped closer, his voice breaking. “I tried not to. God, I tried. But I can’t anymore.”
You stared at him, heart thundering, every emotion crashing down at once.
And then you broke.
“I love you too,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to, but I do. I fell for you when you smiled over ramen that night. I fell harder every time you cared when you didn’t have to.”
Heeseung’s breath caught. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He moved before either of you could think. One step, then another, until his hands were on your face and his lips were on yours.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, trembling. Then it deepened. Months of longing, heartbreak, and unspoken words pouring into one perfect, breathless moment.
When you both finally pulled apart, foreheads touching, you laughed through your tears.
“That was… overdue,” you whispered.
He smiled, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited.”
“Guess we’re finally married for real now,” you teased weakly.
Heeseung chuckled. “Guess we are.”
The days that followed were lighter.
You both still had your lives. Surgeries and stadiums, long nights and missed calls. But now there was something else: love, quiet and steady, anchoring you both through it all.
Heeseung would leave sticky notes before tours, little doodles, reminders to eat, small “I miss you”s hidden between your medical books.
You would stay up late watching his concerts online, smiling every time he said, “This song’s for someone special.”
You didn’t need grand gestures. Just the simple, sacred peace of knowing you were home.
One evening, months later, Heeseung was waiting for you at the ramen shop where it all began.
When you walked in, exhausted but glowing, he grinned.
“Déjà vu?” You asked, sitting across from him.
“Maybe,” he said, handing you chopsticks. “But this time, I’m not letting you run away.”
You smiled softly. “I wasn’t planning to.”
You both ate in comfortable silence, steam curling between you like warmth reborn.
When you finished, Heeseung reached across the table, intertwining his fingers with yours.
“You know,” he said, eyes glimmering, “for a misunderstanding, we turned out pretty great.”
You laughed. “We did.”
And when he leaned in and kissed you, it was slow, sure, and full of everything they’d survived. The world outside faded away.
No rumors. No headlines. No pretense.
Just you both.
The idol who craved peace.
The doctor who found love in chaos.
And the life you built together was one quiet, perfect heartbeat at a time.
A year since you both got married, the smell of coffee and pancakes drifted through the apartment.
The same apartment where everything began. The fake marriage, the arguments, the awkward silences.
Now, it was home.
“Heeseung!” You called from the kitchen, flipping a pancake with far more aggression than necessary. “You said you’d help!”
From the living room came a groggy voice. “I am helping. I’m providing emotional support.”
“You’re lying on the couch!”
“That’s emotional support!”
You glared at him over your shoulder. He was sitting there in sweatpants, hair tousled, eyes half-open, clutching his mug like it was his lifeline.
You sighed, but your lips curved upward anyway. “Pop-star.”
He grinned sleepily. “Doctor.”
It still amazed you sometimes how natural it all felt now. No cameras. No press statements. No contracts or pretending. Just you both.
You plated the pancakes and set them down in front of him. “Eat before it gets cold.”
Heeseung leaned forward, stealing a quick kiss before you could protest. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you married me anyway.”
“Unfortunately.” You smirked, hiding a smile.
Your schedules were still chaos, his tours, your shifts, but somehow, you had both built a rhythm. Mornings like this, quiet and golden, felt like stolen miracles.
Heeseung watched you sip coffee, your hair messy from sleep, sunlight spilling across your face.
He couldn’t help it. He took out his phone and snapped a photo.
“Hey!” You protested. “I look half-dead!”
“You look perfect,” he said simply.
Your cheeks flushed. “You’re so—”
“Charming? Handsome? Devoted?”
“—annoying,” you finished, though your smile betrayed you.
A knock at the door interrupted them.
Heeseung frowned. “Who—”
Before he could finish, a familiar voice shouted, “Hyung! Open up!”
You blinked. “Is that—?”
“Don’t tell me—”
Too late. The door burst open, and six chaotic voices filled the apartment.
“Surprise!” Jungwon grinned, holding a cake box.
“Hyung said you’d be home!” Sunghoon added.
Jake was already filming on his phone. “Domestic Heeseung and Y/N content. For private archives only, of course.”
“Delete that,” Heeseung groaned.
Sunoo gasped dramatically. “So rude! We come bearing cake and love!”
Ni-ki peeked over their shoulders. “Is that pancakes? Hyung, you didn’t save me any?”
You laughed, utterly unbothered. “Come in, come in. There’s plenty.”
The boys tumbled inside, filling the apartment with noise and laughter. Someone put music on; someone else started dancing with the broom.
Heeseung watched you in the middle of it all. Laughing, talking, teasing Sunghoon about his hair and his heart swelled.
Once upon a time, this apartment had been a cage. Now, it was everything he’d ever wanted.
Later, after the boys left (leaving crumbs, chaos, and love in their wake), you and Heeseung stood by the balcony, city lights stretching endlessly before you.
“Remember the first time we met?” You asked softly.
“How could I forget? You were trying really hard to pretend you didn’t recognize me.”
“I almost screamed.”
He chuckled. “And now you steal my hoodies.”
“They’re comfortable,” you said defensively.
He slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “You’re comfortable.”
You smiled, leaning into him. “You used to hate me.”
“I never hated you,” he murmured. “I was just too stupid to understand you.”
You looked up at him, eyes reflecting the city lights. “And now?”
“Now I can’t imagine life without you.”
Your heart fluttered, same as it had the first time he’d smiled at you.
“Heeseung…” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For choosing me. Even when you didn’t have to.”
He smiled softly, genuinely. “You don’t choose who you fall for. You just… do.”
You laughed quietly. “Still sounds like a song lyric.”
He tilted his head, grinning. “Maybe it will be.”
A few weeks later, ENHYPEN released a new single.
Fans called it “Home Again.”
The lyrics spoke of finding warmth after chaos, of ramen nights and quiet mornings, of someone who made the world feel safe again.
When asked in an interview about the song’s inspiration, Heeseung smiled, eyes shining just a little too softly.
“It’s about someone who reminded me that love isn’t about timing or perfection,” he said. “It’s about peace. The kind you don’t realize you’ve been searching for until you find it.”
Somewhere backstage, you watched the broadcast on your phone, a fond smile tugging at your lips.
And when he looked into the camera at the end, whispering, “This one’s for you,” you didn’t need to wonder who he meant.
It’s extremely fucked up that some ppl try to make you feel stupid and immature for hoping for a better world. You say you want world peace and mfs think you need a pacifier; dawg, I just don’t want ppl dying from violence. This idea that ppl simply must die as casualties of war is misanthropic to say the least.
" tell me what you're willing to do (kiss it better, baby) "
pairings: dex x fem! reader
synopsis: everyone knew dex was an unstable man incapable of being alone. which was why you stayed by his side, guiding him like he needed—his north star.
word count: 5k
content/warnings: non-graphic smut, blood, scars, mentions of violence, implied sex, obsessive tendencies, older dex, needy dex, pain kink (kind of), hair pulling
pae speaks ~ i’m on a bullseye kick rn don’t mind me. dedicating this one to my friend (you know who are) thank you for helping me with this process ;) kiss it better is literally dex’s song sooo here we are
He wasn’t supposed to want you. It had gone against everything he convinced himself he wasn’t allowed to have—a life of normalcy. Coming home to someone who was so untainted by the dark side of the world had been something Dex had always feared. The thought of letting the blood on his hands bleed all over the one person he needed was scarier than anything else he’d put himself through.
But then there was you.
Every moment, every spiral, every time he thought he was done for meant so very little to him now. And all it took was an accidental stumble on your front door.
You remembered the first time he had shown up. He was bleeding profusely from his ribs, his blonde hair caked with blood and his face streaked red. He had looked at you with such an unchecked fury that you felt it sizzle low in your veins, bubbling and popping. But you refused to let him bleed out on your doorstep.
He’d seen it then. How gentle you were with him, even though his fingers itched for something to throw. It was a safety net of sorts, knowing he was in control even whilst wounded.
Control. Control. Control.
He should’ve known better than to think he had that with you.
Dex had grown obsessed. Just like he’d done his whole life, he latched onto the closest thing that helped him gain some semblance of sanity. Spiraling horrified him. It had him losing grip on his mind, those thoughts slipping back in like a dark cloud of bad decisions and self loathing.
However, he didn’t need to have control when you were around.
You saw him since that first night. A man who was losing his mind because everything around him was unraveling at the seams he’d tried so hard to intricately stitch up himself.
You became his thread.
You were his North Star that gleamed even on the most darkest of nights when he was on the brink of collapse.
And for Dex? He had to learn not to strangle what he so desperately needed to keep safe.
It was an ordinary night in Hell’s Kitchen. At least for you anyway. Rain pattered softly against the windows, creating a calming atmosphere with the quiet music drifting from the beat up radio on your kitchen counter. You padded around your dingy apartment in a pair of cotton shorts and a threadbare tank top, the summer humidity costing you your comfort.
Dex had told you he’d be late. You had to admit your surprise towards the heads up.
He was a man with an agenda. He was calculated in that way where no one would ever see him coming.
Which was why your heart lurched when you heard the loud clatter of something heavy drop onto the fire escape stairs.
You rushed over to the window, yanking it open despite the risk of letting in the drizzle. But a little water was barely an inconvenience to the state your boyfriend was currently in.
Dex pushed himself up from the slick steps, grunting beneath his dark blue balaclava as he fell against the brick wall. His massive frame was slightly hunched, only illuminated by the occasional strike of lightning.
“Dex,” you gasped, quickly urging him inside.
As much as it still worried you, this was a normal occurrence. And some morbid, sick part of you didn’t want it any other way. Dating a vigilante was thrilling, filling you with a high that was better than any drug you could get your hands on.
He grunted again as he slipped over the windowsill, his boots landing without a sound on the carpet. One of his gloved hands reached out, gripping your arm tight but not enough to hurt—even though you wouldn’t have minded. His free hand came up, pulling the balaclava off his head to reveal his blonde hair, darkened with sweat and rain. The corner of his eye was bleeding but it seemed to have scabbed over in the time it took to get to your apartment.
“Where else are you hurt?” You asked tentatively, guiding him down to sit on the worn sofa.
Dex went willingly yet you were pretty sure he’d let you lead him off a cliff. “My arm.”
Your eyes quickly darted to each bicep, finding the torn blue fabric ripped in a thin line, soaked with red liquid. It didn’t look too bad all things considered.
“And my ribs,” he grunted out, back arching as he adjusted himself. His large frame took up a lot of space, his broad shoulders straining against the tight fabric. Once he settled again, you pressed a gentle hand to his torso.
He groaned, head falling back against the cushion. His blazing eyes returned to yours, piercing you with a heady gaze. He was an intense man and yet it got you every time.
You stepped back, going to get the med kit you kept on standby for nights like these. He wasn’t in too bad shape tonight which made your job easier. But still, looking in those haunted irises of his made your heart ache.
He was closed off, yes, but there were moments when he’d let you in. It was the bravest thing he’d ever done, opening up to you instead of cowering in on himself because he thought he deserved to bear the pain alone.
You hurried back over to him before carefully removing the leather holster from his body and letting his shirt follow.
Underneath he was a map of hard muscle honed from years of combat and violence. Caved in scars marred his skin, drops of perspiration dripping down the lines of his toned stomach. It was a sight that made your mouth water.
Dex saw the way you traced his body like it was a fine piece of art. Despite the dark purple and blue bruises blooming over his side, you were never scared of admiring him. It sent a jolt of need through him, the feeling of being seen going straight to his head.
You did make note that his ribs seemed untouched, though. Maybe it was broken and you just couldn’t tell.
Your hands quickly made work of finding a suture kit, sitting beside him with your knee pressed against his thigh. “What’d the guy do this time?”
Dex rested his head back against the cushion again but his longing gaze never left your face. “That’s for me to know.”
“And for me to find out,” you finished with a sigh.
He nearly frowned. “No.”
He leaned towards you a little bit, catching a finger on your chin and turning your head to face him. “What I do, I do it for you now. They’re not gonna touch you. They won’t even get a chance,” he said with one of those side smiles that told you he really believed it.
His words cut straight through your heart and stirred something warm in your belly. He sounded so sure. And you knew he wasn’t lying either.
Dex on the other hand felt an icy fear grip him at the thought of you finding out the extent of his Bullseye alias. In his eyes, you were pure, untouched by the gritty world he lived in. If keeping you dumb from the way people screamed and ran the other direction when they saw him meant that you stayed safe he wouldn’t give up now.
“Lay back,” you commanded, bringing his arm towards you.
Dex complied shamelessly.
You brought the needle to his skin. He tensed up, a rough exhale coming from his nose as his fingers dug into your thigh. “You’re okay,” you murmured. “‘S not a big cut.”
He relaxed slightly. Both of you knew what your voice did to him. How easily compliant a few syllables could make him.
“You’re doing so good,” you continued, careful not to yank the suture thread. “Almost done.”
He could’ve whimpered. This was what he looked forward to every single day—you taking care of him and telling him how well he could take it.
Finally, you cut the remaining thread before soothing a hand down his forearm. “There you go. You did so good,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple before going to clean up.
Before you could go far, he grabbed the bobby pin that had fallen from your hair and ricocheted it off the wall. It bounced back, nailing the med kit shut before you could do anything.
While distracted, his fingers dug into your hips, whirling you around so you stood between his legs.
Your eyes were wide as you took in his crazed face. You knew then. He gave you that look on days when his mind got too loud and he needed his North Star to guide him.
In this case, he just needed to be reminded he was yours.
Your hand came up to the back of his head, fingers tangling in the messy blonde locks. He released a low hum as you pulled his head back just enough to see his face fully. “Do you need me to make it better, honey?”
His eyes practically lit up. “Mhmm,” he hummed again, his lips fighting one of those satisfied smirks.
Your grip tightened a little bit, drawing a small groan from deep in his throat. “Words, baby.”
“Yes,” he rasped out like the word had been trapped for too long. “Yes.”
The hand that wasn’t in his hair trailed to the freshly stitched wound on his bicep, pressing down just slightly. “Does it hurt?”
He looked up at you through hooded eyes, refusing to look away from you. His fingers dug into your hips, his touch burning even through the cotton of your shorts. Just that change in pressure gave you your answer.
“Poor thing,” you said lowly, stroking a finger over his nape. “Can’t keep out of trouble, can you?”
His fingertips nearly turned white, holding onto you so tight that he almost forgot he didn’t want to hurt you. “Don’t,” he said bluntly.
Riling him up was too easy. One single word or touch had him crumbling in your hands.
Your hand on his arm trailed upward, sliding over slick skin that was beginning to dry. The thick muscle of his bicep twitched. Your fingertips grazed the slope of his shoulder before tracing his thrumming pulse with your index.
One strong hand wrapped around your wrist. You stopped the gentle ministrations, knowing he was either getting overwhelmed or shrinking back into himself. You knew he didn’t mean it. He never wanted you to stop touching him like he was something worth giving attention to. No one had ever given that to him.
He wanted to be in this position. But he would never admit it out loud. Which was difficult considering he was seconds away from begging you to touch and kiss away the pain.
You didn’t force his hand off. Just let him ground himself.
Dex was struggling. Usually the static in his head dulled to a distant hum whenever you had your hands on him but tonight it felt like a knob was being turned, amplifying the messed up signal.
Shes going to get hurt and it’ll be all your fault.
She’s going to leave once she realizes what you really are, Dex. Save her now before it’s too late.
His thoughts were screaming no but his body was screaming yes. He wanted you so badly. He always did. He wanted to possess you. He wanted to be the thing that haunted every single thought in your mind.
It was the most terrifying thing he’d ever let himself feel.
“Hey,” you said a little firmer than he expected. “Look at me.”
His eyes that he hadn’t even noticed were closed opened. The corner of his lips curved up. He was right where he wanted to be.
“I’m here,” you grabbed his hand and placed it over your heart. “You’re not your thoughts. Get out of your head. Be here, with me.”
Dex could feel the steady thump of your heart and it reminded him that no matter how many lives he took, you were alive.
You leaned down slightly, and even as he tried to resist it, you brushed your nose against his and then gripped his hair firmer. Your lips ghosted over his, sending a whining hum through his skull.
“Fuck,” he breathed out, his hand moving over your breast to your ribs and down to your waist, desperate to pull you closer. He nearly felt pathetic for how bad he wanted to bury himself in you. Most times he wished he could crawl into your skin and stay there.
You knew the things he was willingly to do to keep you. Maybe not the full extent, but you knew enough.
You pressed a teasing kiss on his lips and Dex could practically feel the blood on his hands transfer onto you. Yet, with your heat and the way you felt under his skin, it suddenly didn’t seem so bad.
Your fingertips pressed into his shoulders as you finally climbed into his lap, straddling him like you belonged there. He shamelessly complied as you pulled his head back further so he could look at you.
“Your ribs aren’t even hurt.”
His lips curved up. “I know. It just felt good.”
Your face morphed with surprise at his admission. He had groaned when you touched them and you had thought maybe he broke a few. Then it occurred to you—he was just touch starved.
You pressed your forehead against his and his eyes fluttered closed, a satisfied smile on his lips. His veins popped under his skin as he squeezed your thighs subtly. You could feel the strength in them and yet you trusted them completely.
“You could’ve just asked,” you whispered against his lips.
“Yet you still figured it out.”
His retort made you playfully roll your eyes before sliding your hand down his chest, feeling the hard muscle under hot skin. You sank your nails in enough to draw a groan from him but before he could release it, you pressed your lips to his.
Dex’s fingers dug into your plush thighs, sitting up just a little bit. One of his big hands slid to the small of your back, pushing you closer as he opened his mouth to yours.
You tightened the grip you had on his hair, your tongue sliding into his mouth. He damn near moaned as he felt the wet heat glide against his tongue, his body starting to buzz with need.
Usually he was smothered in the weight of his life but with you? He wanted to be consumed by your love.
He’d let you do anything to him and he’d say thank you.
The hand you had on his chest slid up to his face, cupping his jaw. Your thumb gently skimmed over the jagged, horizontal scar cut across his cheek.
Dex felt like he couldn’t breathe. His body was burning up, his hands—usually so sure and steady—shook, his mind was racing, and his pants were getting uncomfortably tight.
He had to break away from your addicting mouth, panting heavily against your swollen, wet lips.
“It’s okay. I’m here,” you murmured, pain zigzagging down your legs as his fingertips pressed bruises in your flesh. “Just tell me what you want.”
Dex stared, pupils blown wide. He still wasn’t used to being given a choice. For a long time everyone told him what he should want, what he should be.
Now that you were here, touching him like he wasn’t a monster, it nearly made him feral.
He leaned even closer, hand pressing against your spine, forcing you to arch into him. “I need… I want…”
He pressed his forehead hard against your chest. “Fuck, I need you so badly.”
There it was. Laid bare, stripping him of the control he tried to maintain. But feeling you so close had made his brain short circuit.
Your fingers went to the rough scar on his back, tracing the old wound of his spine. You weren’t a violent person but you would be happy to see Mayor Fisk’s death printed in bold on the Bulletin’s front page.
“You’ve got me,” you said and you’d say it over and over again until he believed it.
Make it go away he nearly begged. Love the pain out of me.
Somehow getting his legs to function, he stood up, holding you close like you weighed absolutely nothing. Your legs wrapped around him, forcing your chest against his.
He quickly swung open the bedroom door, stepping inside and kicking it shut again. Your room wasn’t anything special—a queen sized bed covered in dainty floral sheets, a nightstand and a dresser, and a few Polaroid photos hanging on the line above the mirror.
Dex hated it. He wanted to be the only one on your wall. The only one you saw every morning and every night. He wanted to be the only one you ever thought about.
He sat you down on the end of the bed. Rain pattered against the window but any memory of what he’d done tonight didn’t matter when his hand tangled in your hair and his lips found your neck.
Your head tipped back and your mouth parted on a soft moan. He smirked against your skin like he’d just won a well earned prize.
He trailed his kisses up to your ear and whispered, “crawl up a little. Let me see you.”
Your heart fluttered as you turned over and crawled up the bed until you were by the pillows. Dex watched intently, his need slithering up his body and sinking its claws into his chest.
He toed off his boots and socks but before he could reach for his belt, your voice stopped him. “Don’t.”
His hands fell away instantly.
It wasn’t long before he followed you, hovering over you and the sight of your hair cascading over the pillows was enough for him to grab your waist and flip over.
The positions changed, your thighs now straddling his lap. That’s where he liked you best. There was nothing more satisfying than to see your body moving on him, head thrown back in pleasure because of him.
Dex was so used to inflicting pain. He never batted an eye either. Every object imbedded into his victims so precisely that it brought him immense satisfaction. But watching a fork sink into someone’s skin was nowhere near as pleasurable as watching himself sink into you.
The wounds on his body suddenly became a dull sensation. And all it took was a few kisses.
You leaned in to kiss him again, but this time it was hot and desperate. Your teeth clashed against his for a second before you caught his lower lip.
He groaned again, muttering a breathy “fuck” before his hand traveled to your throat. His slender fingers wrapped around your neck, not tight, just a subtle pressure.
He tugged you closer by your neck, dragging his tongue against yours in a way that was almost obscene.
You grabbed his wrist of the hand he had on your hip and brought it to the hem of your tank. He got the hint, tugging it up and over, tossing it to the floor.
He could’ve salivated at the sight of your bare torso all exposed for only his eyes.
You let him look, watching how his eyes took you in like you’d somehow vanish into thin air. He tracked how your chest rose and fell. He had memorized every little tell and hitch whenever he touched you a certain way. He could play your body like an instrument and you both knew it.
Good thing you gave him just as much attention.
His thumb grazed the corner of your jaw. He knew the exact pressure and point he had to use to break it. It was a piece of knowledge that he felt guilty for thinking about in this moment.
But he would never hurt you like that. His thumb moved down your jawline to your lower lip, pulling it down slightly.
You traced slow patterns into his skin, slowly moving down the hard planes of his stomach and to his abdomen. The muscles jumped in response to your touch as you unbuckled his tactical belt.
Dex knew the second you removed the last of his clothes his fraying control would snap. His synapses would fire and the city outside of the four walls would melt into an abyss of static.
His eyes remained locked on your features and only one word formed: her.
Everyone else was irrelevant. The only important person was you. The most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. The one he’d do anything for.
The belt made a snapping noise as you slid it from the loops, discarding it. Just by undoing that belt buckle it had shown him that you really weren’t going anywhere.
You wanted to make him feel better and you weren’t scared of it.
His hands clenched tight, telling himself he wasn’t allowed to touch you. Your skin was so smooth in comparison to the jagged scars engraved into his. He might’ve spilled the blood of others onto you but you didn’t know that. In his eyes you were too brave, too gentle with a man who knew nothing but violence.
You noticed the tension straining his neck, the cords tight. His shoulders were stiff and he was looking at your face and your hair and your eyes and your neck and your arms and your chest and…
“Dex,” you said a little more firm than he was expecting. A lot of the people who’d tried to help him were soft spoken. So were you most of the time.
But you knew that right now that’s not what he needed.
He needed reassurance and he needed to believe it.
“Look at me, honey,” you put a hand under his chin, coaxing him to meet your eyes.
When he did, the tension drained again. His gaze, usually cold and dangerous, softened at the edges.
When he spoke, his voice was low and rough like sharing a secret only you got to know. “I’m not… good at this, you know.”
You cupped his face, caressing his cheeks softly. “You don’t need to be.”
He let out a short huff that was nearly a scoff. “But I want to be. I want to be good for you.”
Your heart ached and your entire face shifted into love and patience. That’s all he ever needed whether he knew it or not.
“You just being here is good for me, Dex,” you said quietly, your voice a soothing lull. “I’m not asking for anything more than you. Just you, honey. Let me make it better.”
No matter how much he wanted to protest, he couldn’t. He wanted it. He wanted you to keep him in this spot of calm and quiet for as long as possible before the blue haze of Bullseye returned.
He didn’t answer right away but nodded slowly. “Okay.” The word was strained with need and want, a tangle of overwhelming emotions that were spiraling out of his control.
You gave a small, encouraging smile before kissing his forehead and then his nose, both his cheeks and his chin. He fought back the urge to make a noise, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer.
But when your bare chest met his? He was back to craving you.
“There you go,” you whispered, sliding a hand between you two and kissing down his neck to keep him from getting too overwhelmed.
Dex let out a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead into your shoulder, his fingers clamping down on your waist. Come tomorrow your body was going to be littered with bruises in the shape of his fingers but it did nothing but fuel your desire.
You helped him out of his pants, his boxers following soon after and he couldn’t form a coherent thought except more more more.
When you stood up to remove your own shorts, he tugged you right back into the bed, his body pressing against yours. One strong arm held you to him while he yanked your shorts and panties down your legs with one hand.
Your heart gave a sharp thud against your ribs.
When you settled back on top of him, the room was filled only with the heaviness of both your breaths, tangling in the space between you two.
His hands settled heavily on your hips, thumbs pressing into the bone as if trying to brand himself into your skin. He looked up at you, your hair nearly a curtain encapsulating the heated intimacy.
“What do you need from me?” He forced out, his voice nearly cracking with restraint.
You just gave a little smile, one hand holding the side of his face while the other snaked down again. “Just sit still, honey. Let me kiss it better.”
When your bodies came together, Dex broke. His jaw fell open on a guttural groan, his strong arms banding around your waist and pulling you closer and closer until there was no telling where he ended and you began. You wrapped your arms around his neck, breathing hard as the heat and length of him filled you completely.
For a long moment neither of you said anything. Dex couldn’t think straight. Not with you wrapped around him like that. He was panting into your ear, holding you tight against him just in case everything were to fall apart he’d still have you.
“Shh,” you eventually got out, running a hand over his blonde hair and tangling your fingers in the damp strands. “Just us. Just me and you.”
When you started to move, Dex couldn’t even function properly anymore. You held on tight to him, chest brushing against his with every roll of your hips. All he could do was sit and take it.
And boy did he enjoy it.
At first, you whispered sweet nothings into his ear. He whimpered. It was a sound so beautiful you wanted to hear it again and again.
Dex watched you move above him, his eyes hooded and dark, his wet lips parted as you drew abrupt gasps and expletives and whines from him. He was so addicted to you. It wasn’t healthy in the slightest. He wanted to be here inside you for the rest of his life if he could. Your warmth was unlike any other reassurance he’d felt before.
His hands roamed all over you, squeezing and caressing every inch of skin he could get his fingers on.
Yet, his efforts seemed small in comparison to the affection you showered him with.
“Does that feel good?” You whispered, kissing his neck and down his shoulder, sinking your teeth into his meaty flesh just enough to draw a reaction out of him.
When you pulled your mouth away, imprints of your teeth were left in his skin.
Dex would do anything to get those marks tattooed into his body.
You kissed over the scar on his cheek, your fingers gliding over the one on his spine and you felt him shudder against you.
Eventually, it was too much.
It was all too much for him.
The feel of your lips on his scarred body, your nails dragging down his back, leaving behind stinging red scratches was making him begin to shatter.
It wasn’t slow or pretty.
It was violent and completely consuming.
His hips surged upward, making you cry out and sink your nails into his shoulders. His eyes shined with adoration and a distorted, staticky voice inside his head repeated mine mine mine.
Dex grunted into your neck, lips latching onto your pulse and giving a firm suck. You were going to destroy him and he’d let you do it a million times over with a smile on his face.
“I can’t,” he panted, the overwhelming sensations building and building like a storm about to burst.
“Yes, you can,” you breathed against the side of his head before gripping his chin in your fingers, forcing him to look at you.
He was wrecked. Completely and utterly wrecked.
And he never looked prettier.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I can’t. You don’t… oh fuck…”
You did your best to stay functioning but it was so difficult as the heat kept rising and rising. His fingers dug into your hips, nearly bone crushing as he guided you in that sweet motion that had both of you unraveling at the seams.
Sweat fell from his forehead, slipping down his chest and when the pleasure crested, he came undone.
Your moans and his whimpering grunts filled the room along with the sound of skin. These were highs neither of you had ever experienced before and Dex was ruined by it.
There was no coming back from that for him. He could never let you go now. Not even if you begged and screamed to let him let go.
Bullseye didn’t matter. Fisk didn’t matter. New York didn’t matter.
It was only you.
Once you fell against each other, both completely spent and dazed, Dex slid a hand up your back and gingerly pressed a kiss to your temple. It was his way of saying thank you for loving me.
Afterwards, when you two were cleaning each other up, you kissed the scar on his spine to say I know you and I love you anyway.
Once the sheets were changed and the rain fell to a quieter hum outside, Dex held you close. His back still stung with the scratches you left but it was a delicious type of pain.
You were half asleep, tracing the fading bite mark on his shoulder.
He looked at you with a face of awe for a man who never knew how to be anything more than a weapon.
You were his North Star and because of that, you made everything better.
Chapter 8 is out for Ko-fi supporters and Patreon supporters!
Following the National Doubles tournament, this update is more slice-of-life focused, and takes us to the week right before Finals. And yes, the big mom reveal is here.
Release dates
Early release (less polished): TODAY!
Early release (more polished): May 15
Public release: May 29 or earlier
Chapter 8 (58k words) features:
Returning to Cargill after the National Doubles tournament (including spending the night with G or having breakfast with Rayyan if you’ve unlocked those scenes)
Freshman hang-out session with Max and Blake
Spending time with G preparing for the photography exhibition
Meet your mother 👀—not once but twice?? (If you so choose)
Thanksgiving break 🦃
Have dinner with Sam and his/her family (sleep over and possibly reveal that you’re together), play a friendly game with Sam at the neighborhood courts 🎾 where you’d grown to love the game, finally unlock the Samwise Gamgee nickname while playing a lord-of-the-rings board game with Sam and their sister 🧙♂️)
Call Rayyan, G, Tobin, or your mother over Thanksgiving, bond with your father
Face the consequences of your choices over thanksgiving break 🔥 (will you manage to submit all your papers in time? Will you get benched for the last match of the season…?)
As always, starting a new play through will ensure variables are set properly.
Hobie is kissing you like a starved man. God. He has not seen you in weeks and the only things he wants right now is fucking your brains out.
So he cups your core with his large palm as he kisses and nibbles the skin of your neck.
" hobie...the dinner" you whisper as he puts aside your panties and his digits rubs yours wet folds.
" hush..luv..i'm gonna feed you.."
You arch your body when he positions beetwen your legs and sucks and licks your nipple as you squirm and moans quietly.
You can tell he is so needy. He is always like this when you two are far apart more than a week. He comes over and makes sure to fill you up for hours until you are so overstimulated.
You let out a loud moan when he thrusts into you deep, jesus, he is so hard right now.
" ah..mph..hobie" you whimper and hobie kisses your mouth as he bucks his hips into you, his fat cock letting in and out from you as his tongues explores your mouth and his free hand plays with your nipple.
" it's ok, luv..i got you...let it go for me..." he grunts against your mouth.
You are a complete mess of moans and whimpers like usual and hobie is so proud to see you fall apart just for him.
You wake up one night to a familiar knocking on your window.
bad medicine | @sargeant-bxrnes
the moral of the story is don’t let ben poindexter talk himself in or out of anything. the second moral is don’t let him figure out what you actually want. the thing is? you let him do both, and more.
Mine | @multi-fandom-imagine
Here me out | @aloverofmonet04
For a Minute, I Lost Myself | @lightwxlker
You were always there to heal Daredevil when needed. But when Matt calls this time, not for himself but for Benjamin Poindexter, you know there will be grave consequences.
AIMING THE HIGHEST SCORE | @machiavelliam
Dex unexpectedly becomes obsessed with a method in which he adds points to his “good deeds.”
CHERRIES AND TIES | @/machiavelliam
One month after the violent incident at your workplace, you wake up in an lonely and unknown place… Tied up, sore, and bewildered, just to then realize you have been kidnapped.
MEDICAL NONCOMPLIANCE | @/machiavelliam
Months have passed since the last time Dex took his back pain pills, and you decide to address it during a calm and completely normal sunday morning.
new experiences | @/machiavelliam
Firsts | @/machiavelliam
Enjoy The Silence Pt. 1 | @dawnofheartz
Dex finds his new North Star in a sweet waitress at a bar he visits after work.
𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐯𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦 | @icallshtgun
ex!dex breaks into your apartment injured so naturally u end up fucking
Old Wounds | @ponyosweets
It's been years since you last saw Dex; last you heard, he was working for the FBI. But what happens when the newfound vigilante stumbles to your apartment in dire need of help?
the watcher | @whosjunglejim4322
Jealous Older bf Dex <3 | @/whosjunglejim4322
brass knuckles | @aquaticmercy
You are not the only person hunting Anti-Vigilante Task Force. Luckily, your “competition” is Benjamin Poindexter.
if love had teeth | @/aquaticmercy
Dex only ever had the best intentions with you. What happens when he appeals to your darker nature?
dex coming home horned up after a workout | @little-miss-dilf-lover
stains dont fade | @kruegerspillow
Imagine | @/kruegerspillow
tracing benjamin poindexter's scars, letting him be vulnerable for the first time in a long, long time
Perverts | @poindextergirl
benjamin poindexter had been sent to kill you, the reader, years ago, but daredevil had saved you. during prison-enforced reflection for his crimes in relation to wilson fisk, you grew to haunt his obsessive thoughts. when he escapes rikers' island, he seeks you out first, his north star.
family tree | @/poindextergirl
benjamin poindexter is on the run from the avtf and lands a bloody mess in the side alley of the reader’s building. in a shocking stroke of luck, you are quite the good samaritan and take him in.
Imagine | @spaceyaemonds
the devil of hell’s kitchen saves your life. or, at least he looks like him
familiar ghosts | @thevillainswhore
How you thought you could end your relationship with Dex was a mystery to him. Didn’t you know he would always come back for you? Didn’t you know that you belonged to him?
only a touch from you will do | @/thevillainswhore
Dex always counts down the minutes until he’s home again. Until he can breathe again. Until he’s back in your arms again.
THE NIGHT WITCH | @poiindexters
trauma nurse by day, healer by night. you run a word of mouth clinic in the rougher burrows of nyc where anyone can seek out your services. and you somehow end up with a stray.
your boyfriend just wants to keep you safe. | @/poiindexters
hello neighbour | @kamesama
little things | @/kamesama
Imagine | @i-smoke-chapstick
Drabble | @/i-smoke-chapstick
Bubble Buddy | @wetpussyju1ce
silly!neighbour reader | @/wetpussyju1ce
Morning | @/wetpussyju1ce
Are you okay? | @ma-belle-evangeline
Dex’s girl fails to text him and sends him into a spiralling mess. Turns out she’s just sick.
Why Don’t You Dance with Me? | @/ma-belle-evangeline
AVTF Have been crawling the streets. You lay unaligned with any specific party, but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods just yet.
NEW NORTH STAR | @maplesuckerr
in watching you and Matt at night, Dex discovers that maybe you can be the one to help him
LADY LUCK | @/maplesuckerr
I Just Wanna Be Right Where You Are | @joequiinn
You never knew when you’d see Dex again. But what you did know is that, without fail, he always came back to you eventually…
Chokehold | @marvelimaginesyesplease
Dex cares about you…maybe too much. What’s the harm in looking out for a friend though, right? Right…?
WORLD IN MY EYES | @deusexgirlfriend
YOU are an anonymous resistance hacker. DEX is a client. it should only be simple information drops from you to him, but the thing about vigilantes? none of them are simple.
DIGITAL BATH, part 2, part 3 | @/deusexgirlfriend
after publishing a passive-aggressive article about the avtf's aggression, you've been on the municipal government's (read: fisk's) shit list. your editor at the daily bugle tells you writing a series about the "unfortunate" task force killings will prove that you're unbiased and in support of the mayor. she thinks she’s doing you a solid with this assignment. you think it's her way of driving you insane. an avid reader of yours totally gets it.
right on the money | @twentytomidnight
Working for Norman Osborne brings you in contact with the craziest fucking people.
the offer | @chvoswxtch
due to your reputation as a renowned criminal psychiatrist, you're assigned to a difficult patient at riker's island. during a session, he makes an offer that tempts the boundaries of your professional curiosity.
locked between us | @/chvoswxtch
due to your reputation as a renowned criminal psychiatrist, you're assigned to a difficult patient at riker's island. during a session, he makes an offer that tempts the boundaries of your professional curiosity.
a bet | @/chvoswxtch
a handsome stranger makes a bet with you, and you're the prize.
WHO ARE YOU TONIGHT?, part 2 | @prettycriminologist
you've been playing detective with his past, only fair of him to do the same with you.
FUZZY | @monicfever
Dex spirals into a breakdown over a betrayal, but you ground him by keeping him inside you.
dont worry, he's one of the good guys | @phatdumpy
You witnessed something you weren’t meant to see and now it’s eating you alive. Avoiding Dex might prove to be your downfall, but maybe he can still be your protector?
no one else | @petitepetronas
youre dex's love, and he'll treat you as such, because there is no one else.
pizza and mishaps | @trulyumai
You have captured Poindexters' attention. Always, he waited for you, watched and listened for your arrival to the shared complex. This time, he caught you waiting in the snow for your delivery driver. And who was he to leave you all alone?
I know Benjamin Poindexter gets sloppy when he makes out. He grunts, and groans, and his grip tightens to the point of leaving bruises but he doesn’t care because if he leaves bruises in the shape of his fingerprints on you then maybe everyone who sees you will get the idea to leave you the fuck alone.
I know that man goes slack-jawed when you tangle your hands in his hair and tug, head falling back as he stares up at you, pupils blown wide. I know he tries his hardest to stay in control, to not look like a pathetic mess beneath you, to make it seem like he can at least try maintain some composure around you-
But then you’re telling him how pretty he looks, how good he is for you, how he does so well for you and it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time again.
and God forbid you get possessive over him.
“I don’t want to share you,” it’s nearly a growl in his ear, nails pressing into his scalp as you force his head back. He nearly cries out, wincing before he’s staring up at you, wide eyed and unbearably hard beneath you. “You’re mine, got it? All mine Dex.”
Benjamin Poindexter is grinning up at you, eyes half lidded and hands kneading at the flesh of your hips because you want him? You crave him as badly as he craves you? You need him like he needs you? It seems too good to be true, until you’re grinding onto his fat cock and forcing him to look up at you, urging him to promise you that he’s yours and only yours, that he needs to promise that he’ll let you be selfish and keep him all to yourself, and suddenly you’re pulling him up for a bruising kiss and he’s painting your insides with his cum.
He feels like maybe he should be embarrassed at how quickly you undo him, but he can’t be when you’re praising him like that and your nails are digging into his shoulders because you can’t seem to pull him close enough.
“I’m all yours baby, all yours,” He’s whispering while he’s mouthing at your chest, your shoulders, your neck, anywhere he can reach.
Benjamin Poindexter likes it when you manhandle him. He likes it when it’s sloppy and you sound like you’re somewhat angry with him, his head cradled in your hands while you force him to confess that you own him.
Benjamin Poindexter likes knowing you need him just as badly as he needs you.
I hope every writer who sees this writes LOADS the next few months. Like freetime opens up, no writers block, the ability to focus, etc etc you're able to write loads & make lots of progress <3
