dallas

As he finishes up his meal, he groans, guttural and loud as he empties inside you with your cries ringing in his ears and your fingernails digging in his back almost as sharp as his teeth in your flesh.

Some nights, he'll eat you out and then drink from your thigh with the taste of you fresh on his tongue mixing with the delicious blood he's just as hungry for.

Henry who follows you home from a lecture after watching you intently instead of paying attention to the professor’s presentation. He's been noticing you for a while but the pull is getting stronger. He loves the way your eyes glitter at the things that take your interest, the way your hair falls as you concentrate on your note taking, the way you smile. You were the most interesting thing in the room today without a doubt.

He finds the perfect spot outside your place to be able to watch you through the window without being seen. Frequents it. He always knows when you'll be home, and when you are, he'll be there, waiting to watch. Even if it’s raining and he’s dripping wet — the weather doesn’t bother him. He’ll stand there to catch all your best moments.

Really, he just wants to be close to you, no matter what that takes. It becomes a habit, finding you somewhere on campus and following you unnoticed. He’s really good at it. He gets to know your every routine, every habit, who you're friends with, and even a lot of your likes and dislikes. It's surprising what you can learn about someone even from a distance.

Alone with his thoughts he replays the moments he captures through the glass that separates you when you're in your bedroom. He thinks about borrowing a camera from the photography department to be able to keep some of them. And then can’t help but imagine sitting beside you in your next lecture, his coat laid over the both of you as you slowly jerk him off. Mmh. You’d be so good at it, he just knows. Your hands are made to fit around him. You were made for him.

He can’t help but slide a hand into his pants as he watches you through the window changing your clothes, getting ready for bed or preparing for a shower… you’re never nude until the shades are closed. Of course you're not. You’re classy. And it’s okay, anyway because Henry can fill in the blanks.

He begins to draw you that way, laid out all perfect for him, and considers posting some of the drawings through your letter box. Anonymously of course; you deserve to know you have admirers and he isn’t doing it to be flashy or get noticed. He just wants to appreciate every part of you and let you know how special you are.

Then it ramps up from his thoughtful appreciations and harmless sexual fantasies to finding subtle ways to sabotage any other guy you speak to. Henry will cleverly swipe their phone to text you ‘Sorry, I have a girlfriend we can’t talk any more,’ before deleting your number and the message from the phone before returning it. He made sure to take note of your number first though, he’s not an idiot.

Maybe one day he'll message you. When it's the right time. When he's watching you, maybe, so he can see your reaction to him lighting up your phone. He's sure it'll be positive, after such a romantic gesture. All these guys you're friendly with and you don't even know the one for you is staring you right in the face, quite literally.

John "Soap" MacTavish "You'll laugh," he says, eyes wide with dread as the medic prepares the shot. You tilt your head. "No, I won't." He nods solemnly, then immediately hides his face in your shoulder. "I hate needles, I hate 'em, I hate-ow! Bloody hell, did it already happen?!" You're too busy giggling to answer. He lifts his head slowly, blinking. "That was it?" The medic gives a thumbs up. He exhales in pure relief, arms still wrapped tight around you. "You're never allowed to leave me at appointments. Ever." Later, he insists he wasn't scared-he just didn't trust the lighting. Or the tray. Or the vibe. But he holds your hand anyway, just in case.

Simon "Ghost" Riley Ghost sizes up the needle like it's a live threat. "Doesn't matter how many bullets I've taken," he mutters. "That thing's unnatural." You sit beside him, offering your hand. He stares at it, then hesitantly latches on like it's a life raft. "Just distract me," he says, voice tight. You start talking-mundane things, silly stories, anything to keep him grounded. When the needle goes in, he grips your hand like a vice, breathing hard. "It's done," the medic says. Ghost doesn't let go. "Give me a minute." You rest your head on his shoulder, and eventually his pulse steadies. "Thanks," he mutters. "You make it easier. Being vulnerable. Being human."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Gaz is all swagger until he sees the needle." Is it me, or did that thing get bigger?" he 'mutters, backing toward you. "It's the same, "you say, "You always say that," he pouts. The medic waves him over and he instantly plants himself in your lap. "This is my emotional support human," he announces. You laugh, but wrap your arms around him as he buries his face in your neck. "You good?" you whisper. "No. But you smell nice. "The shot's over before he notices. "Wait- did they even-?" You nod. He lets out a deep breath and sighs dramatically. "You saved me." You roll your eyes, but kiss his cheek anyway.

John Price Price scoffs when you ask if he's nervous." *Me? C'mon, love, I've seen worse." But you 'notice the way his jaw tightens as he eyes the syringe. When the medic steps forward, he grabs your hand without looking, squeezing once hard. You lean in, whispering softly, "Just breathe. You're alright." He says nothing, just locks onto your voice like a lifeline. After it's done, he doesn't let go right away. "Didn't flinch," he mutters. "But thanks for being here." Later, you catch him pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Still hate the damn things," he admits. "But with you? It's bearable. Almost pleasant. Almost"

Gary "Roach" Sanderson Roach doesn't say anything when he sees the needle he just goes wide-eyed and backs slowly into the wall. You take his hand and guide him to sit down, and he clings to you like a koala. "Want me to talk or distract?" you ask. He quickly signs both. So you start rambling while gently playing with his hair. He buries his face in your shoulder, muffling a groan as the shot happens. Then he peeks up at you with a look of betrayal. "That wasn't that bad," you tease. He glares playfully. You kiss his forehead. "You did great, brave bird." He instantly brightens, though he makes you promise to cuddle him all afternoon.

Nikolai Nikolai beams at the nurse like nothing's wrong-until the syringe comes out. "Ah. That's big," he says, suddenly a little pale. "Is it meant to be that big?" You step up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Want me to stand here?" He nods quickly. "Yes. Just... stay close." As the needle nears, he reaches for your hand like instinct, squeezing tight while muttering old Russian curses under his breath. "Done," the medic says. He exhales and slumps back. "That was ... unpleasant." But then he chuckles, brushing a kiss against your cheek. "Thank you, lapochka. I don't mind looking foolish in front of you. Only you."

Alejandro Vargas Alejandro tries to play it off. "It's just a tiny prick, cariño, nothing-whoa, that's a long needle." His confidence wavers the closer it gets. He grabs your waist and pulls you into his lap, hiding his face in your neck. "Do not let go," he whispers dramatically. "They will sense fear." You stroke his hair, chuckling. "It's almost over. "He yelps softly as it goes in, then tightens his grip like you're a teddy bear. "I was brave, yes?" he asks afterward, eyes wide and hopeful "You were adorable," you say. "And clingy." He winks. "Only for you, mi amor. You're my favorite distraction."

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra Rudy doesn't outright panic, but you can tell he's anxious. He avoids looking at the tray, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "You okay?" you ask. "Yes. No. Maybe." You hold out your hand. "Want something to hold onto?" He nods and takes it, gently but firmly. As the needle comes closer, he closes his eyes and presses his forehead against yours. "Just tell me when it's done. "You whisper soothing things in Spanish -sweet nothings, calm reassurances. "It's over," you say softly. He peeks open one eye, then breathes a deep sigh. "Gracias." You smile and kiss the tip of his nose." Anytime, mi cielo."

Valeria Garza Valeria glares at the needle like she's planning to interrogate it. "Get that thing away from me." You raise an eyebrow. "It's just a vaccine." "It's a weapon," she hisses. When the medic insists, she groans, grabbing your hand and dragging you into her lap." You're my pillow now. No escape." She hides her face against your neck. "If I die, avenge me." You snort. "It'll take two seconds." She grumbles, squeezing your hips as the needle goes in. "I didn't feel that," she lies. "You whimpered," you whisper. "Shut up." But afterward, she kisses your cheek and murmurs, "I hate that you make me feel safe. But I love you for it."

Keegan Russ Keegan is composed until he sees the tray. His eyes narrow. "That's too many needles. Why are there multiple?" You try not to laugh. "Only one's for you." He sits stiffly, arms crossed until the medic steps forward, and then he reaches out without a word, grabbing your hand like a grounding wire. You shift closer, letting your knee touch his." Breathe with me," you whisper. "You've survived worse." He exhales slowly, and though he flinches, he never takes his eyes off you. When it's over, he releases your hand like it burned him but only to wrap an arm around your waist. "You're my calm in the storm," he mutters, voice low. "Even for this."

König König is sweating before the needle's even prepped. He stares at the floor, bouncing his knee, hands trembling slightly. "You don't have to do it alone," you say gently, reaching for him. He quickly pulls you into his lap, wrapping both arms around you like a weighted blanket. "You stay here?" he murmurs, voice small. "Please?" You nod and hold his face to your chest. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in your scent while the shot is administered. He doesn't flinch-but the grip he keeps on you doesn't ease until well after it's over. "Danke," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "I only didn't run because of you."

Nikto Nikto glares at the needle like it insulted his ancestors. "This is unnecessary. I don't get sick." You cross your arms. "You're getting the shot." He grumbles something in Russian, then sits-rigid, tense, brooding. As the medic approaches, he silently reaches for your hand. "Don't make this weird," he mutters. "Too late, "you whisper, squeezing it back. His jaw clenches as the needle goes in, but his eyes stay locked on you. Afterward, he exhales through his nose and lets go slowly. "If you tell anyone I flinched..." "I won't," you say, smiling. "But I'll remember how tightly you held me." He rolls his eyes, but his ears flush red.

Krueger Krueger doesn't flinch-but his fingers twitch, and his entire body stills like prey anticipating a trap. "You don't have to pretend," you say softly, placing a hand on his arm. He hesitates, then slowly pulls you to sit beside him. "Stay close," he says under his breath. As the needle nears, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours." Speak," he murmurs. "Remind me I'm here." So you do. You talk gently, rhythmically, anchoring him to the present. He barely reacts to the injection-but when it's done, he doesn't move. He just breathes, forehead pressed to yours. "You're the only one who can still me," he says quietly. "Thank you."

Philip Graves Graves jokes the entire time until the needle comes out. "Now hold on, that's a big-ass syringe," he says, laughing nervously. "You sure that's not for horses?" He scoots closer to you, arms folded. "C'mere, partner." You stand beside him, letting him lean his forehead on your shoulder like a sulking golden retriever. "Y'know, I've taken gunshots easier than this," he mumbles. "But this?" He tenses-then winces as the needle goes in. "Yeeouch!" You gently rub his back. "Done." He straightens, sighing dramatically. "You are now my official vaccine buddy. Forever." He kisses your knuckles. "If I gotta be poked, I'm only doing it with you next to me."

Farah Karim Farah acts calm, even jokes with the medic- but you notice her hands fidgeting. She catches you watching and shrugs. "Needles always remind me of field surgeries," she says quietly. "Of pain." You don't hesitate. You reach for her, intertwining your fingers. "I've got you. You're not there anymore." She nods once, then turns her face to you while the medic works. Her grip on your hand is steady, focused. You talk softly about future plans-markets, baking, quiet mornings together. She grounds herself in your words. Afterward, she exhales slowly. "Thank you," she whispers. "You didn't fix it but you made it easier. And that's everything."

Hadir Karim Hadir goes quiet, staring at the syringe like it's a ghost from his past. "It looks too much like what they used in the camps," he mutters. You kneel beside him. "You're not there anymore. You're here. With me." He nods, still shaken, and reaches for you without asking. You sit on the table beside him, letting him bury his face against your side. "Hold on to me," you say. "Just listen to my voice." As the needle goes in, his breath catches but you hold him through it. Afterward, he whispers, "You make the memories fade. Just enough." You press a kiss to his hair. "You're safe now. I'll make sure of it."

Alex Keller Alex tries to be cool about it. "Pfft, it's just a shot," he says then flinches the second the cap comes off. "Okay, maybe a slight dislike." You raise an eyebrow. "Want me to hold your hand?" He grins sheepishly. "Only if I can hold yours harder." As the medic prepares, he grabs your hand and starts rambling. "Sol was thinking we get tacos after this. Maybe ice cream. I deserve ice cream for bravery, right?" You laugh through it, letting him babble until the shot's over. "Wait that was it?" he gasps. "You were distracting me on purpose!" You kiss his cheek. "Worked, didn't it?" He beams. "You're magical"

Kate Laswell Laswell hates being vulnerable, but you catch her eye linger just a bit too long on the needle. "Don't like 'em?" you ask gently.She hesitates. "I've seen what syringes can do. Makes these moments hard." You offer your hand and she takes it without hesitation. "You 'll stay?" she asks. You nod. "Always." Her fingers stay steady around yours, but her grip tightens the second the shot begins. You gently rub the back of her hand with your thumb, grounding her in the moment. Afterward, she exhales and chuckles lightly." You're dangerously good at comforting me. I might get addicted." You smirk. "I'd be okay with that."