#alucarddear: a pretty picture

[alucarddear]

Hello! I love your work!

May I please request something?

I was wondering if Adrian would ever have angry sex (not painful or maybe not even directed at you/reader but just frustration steam) and what that would be like?

And if not, may I ask the question for jealousy? I saw your HC and it made me curious if it'd ever get a little more intense.

A Pretty Picture*

A stranger foolishly tried to woo his lover, so Alucard decided to show him just whose name she would be screaming tonight.

Note: *NOT sfw. Foreplay. [She/her]

I mean, why not both? What have you all done to me? Anyways, have fun.

Not quite angry—think possessive, needy, desperate. I attempted a picture of what leads up to a pretty intense night probably. I had to stop there, it seemed like the right moment. You can maybe follow this up with Mine, if I blue-balled you. I hope I did justice to your wild imaginings, anon!

Thoughts? Violent reactions? Haha.

The lovers are back in their room at the inn now. She’d squeezed Adrian’s hands tightly and just about shoved the strange man out of the pub herself. It was probably for his own good, otherwise he might’ve been acquainted with Adrian’s fists or worse. The thought of meeting the dhampir’s magical sword is likely enough to make any luckless casanova shiver.

He is still fuming, that much is obvious. But why is her heart hammering? It’s not as if she did anything wrong.

“Adrian, calm down,” she says with a firm voice and an even firmer conscience. She touches his arm, and then starts explaining that she didn’t—

“Oh, it’s not you, darling, no,” he interjects, saving her from needlessly apologising for or explaining something she didn’t do. He saw what had happened. “I shouldn’t have left you for even just a minute.” This place reeks of ruffians.

“It’s alright,” she reassures him, smiling. “I’m alright. You worry too much. I took care of it, didn’t I?”

Yes, yes, his darling did. Far more admirably than he would’ve—should’ve.

They’d been travelling. He’d gone to book them a room at the nearby inn before it was too late. Meanwhile, she’d waited and ordered their drinks at the bar. When he returned, he saw that rat bastard make advances and place his unwelcome hands on his beloved, unsettling her, and the next thing he knew, he was seeing red, and then she had driven the man away herself.

Adrian shakes the thought out of his head.

It will not do to dwell on it, the more rational part of him wants to say, yet another is flooding his head with alarms and reminders that—She’s mine, she’s mine, she’s mine. How dare he?

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and closes his eyes. When next he opens them, an uncharacteristic smirk forms on his lips and he zeroes in on his lover, advancing towards her so very slowly, stopping just as her back hits the inn’s flimsy bedroom wall.

Adrian knows just what he wants, what he needs right now. Respite in the form of his favourite human, as well as some reminding that she is his, and his alone.

She is looking up at him, brows slightly furrowed, perhaps wondering what is going on in his head. She, whose smiles and little laughs fill his heart with glee. She, who’d promised herself to him long ago. His. All soft-skinned, lovely-eyed and warm, so very warm, always so pliant in his hands.

My girl, if you only knew.

Well…

“I want to fuck you,” he tells her bluntly, matter-of-fact, and then something desperate flashes through him. “I need to,” he corrects himself, instantly sending a blush to her face and an unexpected jolt of desire through her core.

She whispers her yes a little too fast, a little too soft for his liking.

“Are you certain? I won’t be able to stop myself,” he warns her.

He watches her gulp but nod again, sees her cheeks flood with colour at his crudeness yet her eyes twinkle with excitement, sees the way her knees got a little weak, and he smiles a toothy smile at her. My love. What precious little girl.

He runs a thumb across her bottom lip and gently prods her mouth open with it. She is blushing furiously, his silly girl, yet she accepts his finger readily, the tip of her tongue making the grave mistake of tentatively lapping at his thumb. It has his cock stiffening and twitching at the sensation, a needy groan nearly escaping his lips.

He picks her up then—scalding, urgent hands hoisting her up by her thighs. The intensity of his look might’ve had her knees weak with want, had her sliding down to the floor if not for his hot grip on her.

He’s angry, he’s jealous, and she really shouldn’t feel so... but damn it, he is so attractive to her right now, the way he wants her so badly she could shudder.

He’s staring at her, imploring her with such want, such need that she could never say no to. She really shouldn’t encourage him, really should calm him down, but his throbbing cock is hard and hot and already rubbing against her so tantalisingly, she just—

“Please,” she croaks at him, begging. “Please do.”

Uh-uh. He shakes his head a little.

“Please what?” he asks, index finger lifted as if to reprimand her. Say it. Say it.

“Please f-fuck me,” she just about whimpers.

Shit.

"Good girl.”

Adrian doesn’t need to be told twice. 

He growls, grinding his hips, the delicious friction forcing a breathy sob out of her lips that he promptly hushes with his own. He tastes sweet, sweet wine on his lover’s tongue, and his grip on her thighs tighten as he pushes off the wall, hands sliding up her buttocks—squeezing, kneading.

They head straight for the nondescript room’s equally nondescript bed. No matter, he thinks. She will make a pretty picture lying naked in it.

He’ll show that foolish man just whose name this pretty lady would be screaming tonight.

She’s sprawled in bed now, hair splayed on the soft, white pillows. “Adrian,” she mewls impatiently, thighs rubbing together.

Tut-tut. “Patience, my girl,” he admonishes her and then forgets about it entirely the very next second as he pushes the hem of her dress up and forces her thighs apart, fingers impatiently shoving her panties aside.

“Look at you,” he goads, smirking at her, fingers already collecting some of her wetness to rub slow circles on her clit. “So wet for me.”

“Adrian,” she gasps, “Adrian, please, please—”

He doesn’t give her a warning as he plunges one, two, three long fingers down to his knuckles into her tight pussy. He gradually increases his pace, curling his fingers inside her, stretching and preparing her to take his engorged cock well.

It’s not long before she is coming undone on his fingers, grasping at anything and everything for purchase. She begs him to stop, yet cries for him to fuck her harder. He holds her down to dampen her squirming and pumps into her until her eyes start collecting tears, until she’s pitifully sobbing his name, completely at the mercy of her dhampir. Soon, she is panting and trembling, utterly spent, yet he is only getting started.

Adrian licks at three of his fingers, tasting her, watching his sweat-slicked lover catch her breath, still shuddering and weak. As soon as he kneels on the bed to take her, she’s meeting him halfway in a desperate kiss—not quite chaste, yet not quite a battle, not one she’s winning tonight anyway. A surrender.

They cling to each other, desperately grasping, pulling at each other’s clothing, nipping. Him, undoing his trousers; her, sucking her salt off his tongue.

When they break apart for air, she attempts to pleasure him back, reaching for his hard cock, but he gently slaps her hand away.

“No, my dear. This is about you. Tonight is all for you,” he tells her.

You’re mine. You’re mine and I’m going to show you just what it means to be mine.