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lyomeii · 11 months

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the other woman

->warnings: yandere themes, cheating, manipulation, divorce mention, afab! reader, implied nsfw (but it’s very very implied.), reader’s husband is named vincent (oc), regis and Amelia have another kid.

->request by anon! Hello can you do Mistress Pregnant reader and Yandere Regis Adri Floyen when Regis is still with Amelia and Mistress reader is actually Jubellian real biological mother? I want something fluffy TVT

->a/n: fluff but with a touch of angst, my favorite thing to write. and remember, cheating is never okay and if you do that, everyone will hate you :) I know you said mistress, but I got carried away while writing this one, so please forgive me.

-> when regis married amelia, everyone was so surprised. none of the workers nor his friends expect to a man who loved another woman to marry her, it made many wonder of why of that decision. the servants whisper to each others about their theories of the suddenly marriage between the two of them.

-> what few people did knew it was how the true love of regis is you. a noble woman from another nation who meet him during a visit to the empire. he was enchanted with your actions, voice, speech and gentle touch on his skin. he would’ve ask you to marry him immediately if you weren’t already married to another. a man named Vincent who is a Duke back there.

-> the moment he realize that you were married was his down break point. regis cried to himself instead of sleeping and of course, he begged you to divorce and marry him instead. In the end, that failed and in return, you told him you have one more night before returning to your nation.

-> and he took advantage of this. regis and you spend the night together in his bedroom, you thought that would be the end of the little meetings with him, yet regis knew otherwise.

-> once you returned back to your nation, you quickly find out to be pregnant with his kid and as much you tried to hide from your husband, he found out about it. Vincent cried so much and screamed at you for doing such act with another man.

-> you knew you are the one to blame and even asked him if he wished for a divorce, but vincent decided to stay married with you and let you give birth to a little girl (whose appearance is literal a copy of regis). the three of you become a family, much to vincent coldness at beginning, he warmed up seeing the little girl calling father.

-> as the times goes on, you alongside vincent and jubelian travel to the nation where you met regis. you desperately tried to avoid that place by anything, yet with the invitation of the emperor, you had no other option than going back there and met regis.

-> regis knew you were pregnant with his child before you left him years ago, yet he never expected to see you again and still married to vincent. his bright eyes were full of shocked when seeing his daughter calling that man father.

-> he wanted to throw everything and walk to you, yet amelia and his son were next to him. both unaware by the fact that you and regis had an affair years ago that lead to jubelian existence. The man can only watch you from afar, dancing with another man who isn’t him.

-> vincent, in other hand, is aware that regis still in love with you. the black haired man loves you so much, although you hurt his heart by sleeping with that man and he hopes that you won’t leave him, not now that you guys are going have another child soon.

-> the little bump in your stomach is more than enough to shake regis back to reality, you aren’t coming back to him, aren’t you? he loves amelia and his son, yet you were his first love that he can’t seem to forget anytime soon…he is living a curse and no matter how hard he tries to forget you, you always will be in his dreams for as long he lives.

@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost

#yandere headcanon #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere manhwa #yandere manhwa x reader #manhwa x reader #regis floyen x reader #regis floyen imagine #yandere regis floyen #regis floyen #yandere regis floyen x reader #yandere father i don’t want to get married #father i don’t want to get married x reader #father i don’t want to get married imagine #father i dont want to get married

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Yay I was the anon who asked if you watch the new John Wick film, I hoped you enjoyed the movie!

Can I request some yandere marquis de gramont headcanons? (it can be romantic or platonic)

man was the biggest prick that i had seen in a while from a movie lol

Yandere Vincent de Gramont Headcanons

A/N:You read my mind Anon lmaoo - I was literally planning on writing some HCs for the Marquis <3

Despite the initial conception one may have about Vincent's dedication to a lover – that being none – he's actually surprisingly...loyal.

While he has the playboy exterior, enough money to soak up the oceans of the Earth and all the allure that comes with his occupation, he secretly feels as if he has nothing at all.

What he wants, what he really, truly wants, is to feel something new. Something he’s never experienced before.

Love.

Not just for himself - for someone else.

His brush with John Wick made him realise how empty his life was by comparison to the Boogeyman, who lived and almost died for the memory of love.

And that stuck with Vincent. Affected him more than he’d like to admit.

But, his heightened status above most others has left him isolated with few who wish to know him in a capacity beyond acquaintances for fear of incurring his wrath with a misplaced word or an overstepped boundary.

Thus, love is almost an impossibility for the Marquis.

And then he met you.

And grew obsessed intrigued. Fast.

He likely met you in passing completely separate from his usual crowd – which is to say hunters and murderers.

And he's taken aback by you; your beauty, your charm, your personality. In a way that, while many others have tried, have never breached Vincent’s superficial interest.

Or perhaps you nurse that same melancholy void he harbours; the desire for something more. Which, divulging it to him, a complete stranger, the Marquis finds oddly endearing. Vulnerable.

He’s enchanted. The void in his chest seems to tighten somewhat. Heal.

You’ve given him what no other has before. Genuine, friendly, interested conversation. All without even knowing who he is.

Now, having to rush off, apologising with a smile for taking up his time with “Trivial banter,” Vincent watches your retreating form.

He has his sights set on you.

Over the next few days, while conducting business and going about his everyday life, Vincent’s mind keeps crawling back to you, those fateful minutes wherein he felt he knew everything about you and nothing at all.

Though, he doesn't actually want to admit it at first.

While, yes, he does want to experience true love, he is entirely unwilling to acknowledge the disgustingly human need to feel something.

So, he tries to hide it. Bury it beneath his work, French desserts and luxuries you've never even heard of.

But, over time, you spring back up in the forefront of his mind when you are no longer content with being a voice in the background. A memory of a time where Vincent felt as if he’d truly been seen.

And Vincent, passing off his secret enthusiasm as boredom, a mere meandering of memories, ‘allows’ the odd thought of you to trickle in here and there.

You are a form of medicine. Whenever Vincent feels something undesirable brewing in his chest, he finds himself back with you on that bench in the park, your warmth and presence sun rays against his face as he’s transported from one of his many mansions to beside you once more.

And, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, you scratch the right spot in his psyche that material gain just can’t. Not in comparison to the human touch you have.

Gramont’s so used to people regarding him with favour or fear that it still takes him aback now how kindly you treated him, not knowing who he is or what he does.

You had nothing to gain from your kindness. And yet you still gave it to him.

Healed him with it.

Vincent’s daydreams start to grow more intense the longer he thinks about you.

An emulated conversation. Additions and projections of the recollections of your encounter, no matter how brief. Anything to let Vincent feed off the feeling you gave him when he’s exhausted the phantom of your first encounter.

There comes a point, weeks after you first met, where Vincent spends more time in these memories, both real and fabricated, than in the conscious world. And they strengthen, pulling his focus from his work, from his duties.

At first, this manifests as a glazed look in his eyes, one which, to all those who knew of him, could pen as the typical, uninterested Marquis stare.

He wears the same one in the comfort of his private rooms, one where nobody can see what he’s thinking. But now, people can see Vincent couldn’t care less about the projected bounty of this one killer from Wales; he just wants to be left alone with his thoughts.

His men have started to notice, too.

And, one evening, Vincent decides to lay upon them a task.

“I need you to find someone for me,” he says, his chin resting atop clasped hands. There is no jest, nor leniency, in his stare.

The task itself sounded easy enough. But with only a physical description to go on, not even having gotten your name, Vincent, for the first time in his life, is anxious.

Anxious his men won’t find you, no matter how deep his connections run.

Anxious that, while he’s lived in his dream world for the last month, you’ve since disappeared. Been killed, perhaps, or exposed to some freak accident.

Vincent pains at the feeling in his centre whenever he considers this a possibility. It tears the scabbing void in his chest wide open again.

Sometimes, while he lies in bed, the thought that might have perished somehow, that his men will have misinterpreted his specific instructions not to interact with you, only report on what you’re doing, plagues him.

He knows his men are loyal – that they’ve never failed a task before now. And he clings to the hope that their winning streak won’t run dry one of these nights.

One day, sat in his office, glancing over a document he’d tried reading for the last half hour yet couldn’t because, surprise, you were distracting him, one of his men came into the room.

“We have them, Sir,” he said, the image of victory. Vincent couldn’t help but scan his suit for any sign of blood. Your blood.

To say Vincent was excited is an understatement of epic proportions.

At first, he’s just numb.

Then, a few minutes later, his chest burns and sparks with an electric passion one acquires when meeting an idol.

Vincent wishes to deploy himself immediately. But he knows this is a waiting game.

So, he remains far enough away from your life that you do not suspect a single thing is wrong.

You don’t even glance over at the guy who’s been tailing you for the last few hours.

You don’t think twice about the stranger who’s been sat in perfect view of you in the cafe for the last two weeks.

You don’t even consider that the guy you bumped into earlier is responsible for your house key going missing.

Now, with access to your inner sanctum and your daily routine burned into his mind like a holy scripture, Vincent makes his move.

He stages meetings between the two of you.

Starts ‘bumping into you’.

At first, you simply recognise him, ask him how he’s doing and what he’s doing in the area.

And, Vincent, the man with an answer for everything, finds himself doing something he never has before.

He fumbles.

Even when he imagined you in a most vivid detail, nothing compares to this moment, where what he says has consequences, where he has one shot at getting this right. Or risk your uncertain stare.

He can feel fear rising in his chest as he stutters. Only once, but enough to knock him down a few pegs in your mind’s eye. At least, that’s what he thinks.

But, he completes his task, albeit not as pristinely as he wished.

He asked you out to coffee.

And you, with a signature smile, accepted.

And now, your fate is sealed.

Vincent beats himself up over his ineptitude of speaking to you like he did in his head: suave, cool, collected.

And, given the fact that he’s never had to take accountability for anything he’s ever done, he tries to blame it on someone else.

Not you, though.

Never you.

Regardless of this minor hurdle, as Vincent sees it, he purses this…friendship with you.

He isn’t used to the concept. Not in a visceral sense, anyway.

The saying ‘It’s lonely at the top’ comes to mind when describing Vincent’s relationships.

There is always a power imbalance, no matter who he’s speaking with.

He is always above them, and they are always below him.

But that’s when they know him. Know his dynamic.

You, you have absolutely no idea who he is, or what he’s capable of.

To you, he’s just Vincent, the owner of a successful manufacturing business.

No, Vincent couldn’t quite ditch the theatrics. He still needed an out to impress you – to have a valid excuse as to how he owns so many nice cars, how he never wears the same designer suit twice.

He doesn’t tone it down with the suits, by the way.

He’s too enthralled by the fascinated look you wear when you’re taking in the patterns, the chains, the craftsmanship.

Which, to his surprise, makes his face warm.

People have only ever looked at the label of his outfit, never the ensemble itself.

That’s just another of the ways you make him feel seen.

You tell him so much of yourself, yet not enough to break your mystique.

Vincent knows more about you than you think, and he uses this to create another version of himself – one which likes the same records as you (though, he unironically does enjoy them. But, he knows he likely wouldn’t unless you listened to them, too), has the same preferences for how you fold your clothes, whether you should brush your teeth before or after breakfast.

And Vincent devours every detail you grant him like a meal, saving them, storing them, testing them out in his newest daydreams when he gets home, his heart thrumming and his breathing short as an unfamiliar feeling of wholeness and anxiety overtakes him.

And yet, there is little he can offer in return.

Nothing that isn’t a lie, anyway.

He keeps you as far away from his work as possible, hence he meets you in such public spaces.

His men are always stationed nearby, disguised as civilians. Should the need for bloodshed ever arise.

Eventually, your weekly coffee meet-ups evolve into something else.

Vincent, after asking one of his men (under strict confidentiality) ”What do you do when you…like-like someone…?” starts taking you to restaurants.

He tries not to scare you off with anything too fancy, but he can’t help but feel part of himself die whenever he thinks about how dull the food here in this 5-star restaurant is compared to his usual dining preferences.

But you’re happy, thanking him for the meal with a gratitude that isn’t borne from a life-or-death scenario.

You’re not paying for these dates, by the way. Vincent won’t let you.

“I brought you here; I’m paying.”

He also has a tendency to go overboard with the gifts.

You tell him your watch is broken ? Here are five designer timepieces imported from a selective brand whose clientele is vetted and chosen by the CEO himself.

Of course, you can try to refuse these gifts – tell Vincent that you “Can’t possibly take them from you; it’s too much !”

But he plays the guilt card well.

“No, I insist,” he says, pushing them into your hands. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

If you actively wear or use anything he buys you, he’ll be overjoyed. Prideful.

You’re wearing something he got for you. That basically means you’re saying you belong to him.

Of course, he does get a little carried away with his…delusions. But he means well !

He’s just territorial.

Vincent can be a gentleman when he wants to be.

And can also be a vicious creature when he doesn’t.

He only presents one of these sides to you.

The other is reserved for his more…private affairs.

When he started feeling more intensely about you, his mind wandered to some rather unsavoury places – places that, usually, VIncent would walk through without batting an eye.

But now that he, dare he say...liked you…he felt as if he’d been drenched in cold water whenever he imagined you doing anything risqué.

So, with the steadily growing number of these thoughts, these images of you, piercing his mind, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

He beds people who look like you.

The two of you aren’t dating yet; haven’t even held hands (though Vincent agonises over finding the right opportunity to do so).

But he still feels wrong. Like he’s cheating on you.

His sanity tries to prevent him from thinking like this, tries to keep itself intact by urging Vincent to pursue another mindless conquest.

Your name does slip out between his panting, though.

Much to the chagrin of whoever’s beneath him right now.

He wonders what you’d look like, what you’d feel like in this same position. What your preferences are.

There’s only one way to find out.

He tries turning up the boyfriend factor after he decides now’s the time to pursue you. Properly.

He sits a little closer to you whenever you invite him over for movie nights, holds you for just a little longer whenever you engage in your traditional parting hug.

And he can’t help but think about how much he wants to stay with you like this forever.

And permanence is a rare commodity for people in his line of work. No matter how many bodyguards he has, or how skilled he is.

Nothing is certain.

Which is why, one evening, lying awake in bed, he decides to act.

He knows it’s a risky manoeuvre, but he can’t deny how careless he’s been with you these last few months.

Not that you’d know, but his men have intercepted five people who’ve tried to kill you, take you – or worse.

All just to get to him.

He can’t leave you in the wide open world like this. He can’t let you be at risk. Not because of him.

So, that night, his heart in his mouth as he commands his men to “Find (Y/N). Bring them to me.” Vincent awaits your arrival.

And, eventually, he hears you. Clamouring in the halls outside his office, screaming and fighting. Resisting.

Vincent can’t help but crack a smile, knowing how defiant you are – how stubborn you can be in your method.

As the heavy footsteps of his men come to a stop outside his door, your screeching is blunted only by the thick wood.

And, doors open, here you are, shoved into the room.

Your captor revealed.

You look at him with what you could construed as almost-neutrality, your bewilderment a damper to your anger, your fear.

“Vincent,” you say, breathless. You take a staggering step towards him. His men take a step towards you, reaching for weapons concealed by their coats.

Vincent raises a hand, and they retract.

He looks at you.

His eyes are filled with nothing less than adulation, misplaced happiness in a situation you view as dire.

“Sit,” he tells you, casting a glance to the seat before his desk.

With little else you can do, you obey.

And your world begins to unravel.

Vincent, in the lamest, most gentle of terms, explains that he is “Not who you thought I was,” – that he does “More for a living than make vases and luxury dishware.”

“I,” he says, watching your eyes carefully, glassy and holding no less potential for terror. “Am the Marquis.”

Vincent stands, and when he sees you flinch, something in him withers. Hurts.

He shoves it aside.

“I am responsible for making sure that the right outcome is brought to the right people.”

His hands behind his back, pacing the length of your field of sight, he swallows.

You’re judging him now. In a way you never had, you’re judging him.

His desire to display how grandiose his lifestyle is doesn’t seem so forthcoming anymore, hiding, shy.

This is more difficult than he anticipated.

“What does that mean ?” you say, voice tight and quiet.

Vincent’s fist clenches. He doesn’t want you like this. You should be happy he’s rescued you ! Albeit from threats you didn’t know pertained to you, but still !

“I’m…” he starts. His gaze wanders to his men, who, with perfect understanding, leave.

You almost don’t want them to go.

“I’m a reaper, of sorts,” he says. He draws closer, taking a step in your direction. You bite back the urge to flee.

“A face to a cause.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, instead watching you with what you think is scrutiny (but couldn’t be further from it), you ask, throat dry, hoarse from your screaming. Crying.

“What cause ?”

Vincent bites the inside of his lip. And, for the first time, he can feel himself cracking under your gaze.

You’re scared. He knows you are. He just wished he didn’t have to see it painted so blatantly on your features, downturned with grief should everything end on this night.

Where was your smile ? Your crinkled eyes, your sonorous laugh, your upturned lips ?

“I fix problems,” he says. There’s no way he can put his occupation lightly. “I used to do it with knives. Guns, a pencil, perhaps – whatever was at my disposal.”

He’s closer now, approaching. His arms are at his sides. And he stands before you.

You don’t want to look up. You want to look – be – anywhere but here.

But Vincent doesn’t let you.

“But now,” he says, and he gets to one knee. His hands trap you, on either of the arm rests of the chair. Yet he does not possess the face of one who is a captor, instead a mask of total capitulation to a feeling he couldn’t even begin to understand before you showed him.

“I do it with diplomacy. With people who are much better suited to that life than I.”

His voice is soft, quieter than before. There is a hint of a smile at his lips, pulling the corners, beginning the total eclipse of his eyes from full to crescent. An offset to the anxiety bubbling in his centre.

Your hands in your lap, he takes them in his, slowly, gently, fingers resting atop yours.

And he squeezes them.

Holds them. Just as he’d always wanted to.

“Why–” you swallow a sob, turn your head so you don’t let him see your face scrunch into the epitome of fright. “Why am I here…?”

Vincent’s lips part. His hand slips up to your jaw, urges you to look at him.

He’s forbearing. A butterfly.

Nothing like how his men handled you.

That in itself could almost convince you that he’s not such a bad guy. Even after all he’s told you.

“Because–” your face in his hand, he looks up into your eyes. Barely contained tears fill them.

“Because you’ll be safe with me,” he promises. There’s an unencumbered optimism in his eyes. A dangerous one at that.

“Because I can’t trust that my men can protect you when you’re so far away – alone – in the city.”

“What do you mean, Vincent ?!”

You don’t mean to snap. But since you’d just been kidnapped and the truth behind the matter is no clearer to you, you can’t help it.

Vincent almost seems to flinch, his eyes narrowing just for a second. He returns to you with his puppy stare.

“There are people out there who know who I am. What I do.”

He squeezes your hand again, his other still wrapped about your jaw.

“The problem now is that they know you, too.”

He swallows thickly, looking down for a split of a second. Guilt.

“And it’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful. Should’ve just left you alone, let you live your life…but I can’t undo that now.”

He laces his fingers between yours. And you’re too frazzled to refuse.

“What I can do, what I will do–” his hand comes to the point of your chin, holds it gently between his fingers like glass.

His gaze falls to your lips, and you try to ignore it.

“Is keep you safe. Here. With me.”

You’d have laughed if you didn’t believe everything he’d just said.

It all just made sense to you.

The lavish gifts, the people watching you that you hadn’t dared notice before because you’re just being paranoid. The hard glares Vincent would grant to all that passed you by in the rooms of higher society.

And now, everything shatters. You cry.

“Oh, non, mon Cher, don’t cry–” Vincent moves to wipe the tears from your cheeks, but you pull away. Retract from his kindness.

"You're insane–" you’re breathless, gasping between sobs

"Not insane.” VIncent tells you. He stands so he’s perfectly level with you, his eyes piercing yours. And, just as he had many times before in your presence, he smiles. Genuine and heartfelt. Then, a statement. A declaration.

“Just… in love.”

#vincent de gramont #john wick #john wick 4 #john wick chapter 4 #bill skarsgard x reader #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #bill skarsgard #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling

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hotvintagepoll · 3 months

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Propaganda

Ronald Colman (Arrowsmith, Random Harvest, Prisoner of Zenda)—"God! Ronnie Colman! Wasn't he marvelous? He had the greatest movie technique I've ever known in my life!" -Vincent Price

James Dean (Rebel Without A Cause, East of Eden)—can i just say that while james dean was horrendously hot, he also had a i-want-to-pick-him-up-and-carry-him-around-in-my-pocket-slash-hoodie-and-feed-him-treats kind of vibe to him? maybe it was because he was only 5'7, or maybe it was because (to me, at least) he constantly looked like a sopping wet poor little meow meow, or maybe it's because his eyebrows looked like they were too big for him. whatever it was, i'm beginning to understand why people still have posters of him in their rooms.

This is round 3 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

James Dean propaganda:

Ronald Colman propaganda:

No one, not even Douglas Fairbanks, could match Ronald Colman's screen close-ups. They were marvellous because he had a beautiful face, and because he had a deep but gentle masculinity: the ideal of the dark Englishman. — Laurence Olivier

Ronnie became not just an actor for me, but a way of life. — Vincent Price

"I wanna give some propaganda for Ronald Colman! His face acting made him a star in the silent era but when the arrival of the talkie brought one megastar after another down to earth he was one of the only ones to become more popular due to his voice, and became the blueprint for the “mellifluous voiced Englishman” type that Laurence Olivier and James Mason would later become known for. And to prove it here he is reading Shakespeare"

"1920s heartthrob to 1930s matinée idol to 1940s silver fox Oscar winner to 1950s comedy radio star, this man could do it ALL. I feel he is unfairly neglected today despite his smile making it into P.G. Wodehouse novels and the knee-melting qualities of his voice making it into a Rodgers & Hammerstein musical. A women's college made him the winner in their hottest celebrity poll in 1942, and I am right there with them. He was by all accounts an absolutely lovely person, as well, but I recognize that this poll is about the hotness and I think that Ronald Colman deserves more recognition for being ridiculously handsome and doing heartbreaking face-acting and having weaponizable quantities of charm. Also he saved David Niven's life (according to the latter's memoir) by shooting a shark once. Very sexy of him."

He was a wonderful friend; steady, true, full of wisdom and humour. He was generous and completely unbitchy unlike so many actors. A great actor, the master of the understated playing, and one many people (including me) tried hard to copy. A glorious speaking voice, dirty great brown 'fan' eyes, a smile that lit up the whole of Beverly Hills, and a man who could give a lame dog or a struggling actor a lift with never a thought of self-congratulation. — David Niven

#james dean #ronald colman #round 3 #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old man

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brenbofen · 7 months

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GAASPPP OMGGG VINCE I JUST GOT AN IDEA OH GOD

priest+exorcist reader x demon dottore holy FUCK ive always had a thing for sacrilege... religious corruption and shit like that... fallen to worship you instead, to open his eyes to the one true god, one who owns him, one who would give him salvation, one who graces him with blessing though he has ugly horns and tattered, blackened wings, one who will love him as supposed to the father above, one who would send him into eternal bliss

make him bite onto your rosary while you fuck him full, kiss on his horns, his scars and mumble sweet nothings like a prayer,, or call him things that sends shivers down his spine, make him claw at your skin while u punish him for his blasphemy, for his heresy... make a demon like him, violent and mad, into nothing but a slut for ur cock that will bring him into a realm of pleasure, something he deems as heaven...

basically taming this dangerous blood thirsty demon by fucking him to oblivion while being a the kind hearted priest u are 😇

oh god is this good for the monster theme??? I THINK I GOT CARRIED AWAY MY BAD... anyways take your time and have fun!!!

⤷ Sweet Words ✝︎ AMAB Preist Reader x Demon Dottore > Monster Luvrs Event

Vincent’s ramblings ଳ i couldnt hold myself back and am posting tbis a day early, im sorry guys 😞😞 also got a bit excited while writing this lawll

Featuring; Religious themes, degradation and praise, body worship, reader gets a little mean, spanking mentioned, belly bulge, multiple orgasms, slight p.rn with feelings??, biting and scratching, petnames (love, my love, baby), cumflation, Let me know if I missed anything!!

You always noticed a particular individual in the back of your church. Every sermon he’d watch you, whenever you’d look away you could feel his gaze burning through you. However, he never seemed to care for what you said. When the choir would sing or church goers would gather for a group prayer, he’d stay seated in his little corner, never moving until your sermon was over.

You had also began to receive an influx of reports about demons. More than enough times would you find yourself within the residents of your small village’s homes, searching for a demon that always seemed to evade you. No matter where you went or how early you were informed of the demon it always moved on to another location by the time you arrived. It was frustrating.

Currently you were in your office reading through documents and signing paperwork, tiredness clawing at your mind. You sighed, gently setting down your quill and resting your chin against the palm of your hand. Work was beginning to impede on your sleep. You would spend long nights searching for that demon, then you’d return to your office to count donations and send off documents, tonight you finally got a break, only a small stack of paperwork to go through then you could rest.

You were so out of it you almost missed the knock on your office door. Quickly you stood from your chair, smoothing out any wrinkles on your clothing as you called out for “Just a moment.” Upon opening the door you were stunned, it was the man in the back of the church!

He wore a bird like mask that covered the top half of his face, you noted the only thing not hidden was the bright blue hair framing his face. He gave you a meek smile, bowing his head slightly. “I apologize for disturbing you at this hour.” He spoke softly, barely parting his lips as he did so. You waved him off, telling him it didn’t bother you and stepping aside to let him in.

He nervously walked into your office, looking around before settling on a chair you motioned to. “Please, take a seat.” You sat in the chair across from him, you saw how the man sat awkwardly, almost as if something were preventing him from sitting comfortably. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me in.” He folded his hands neatly in his lap, tugging on the fabric of his gloves. There was this odd giddiness in his voice as he spoke, a sickly sweet smile on his face as if he were trying to contain his excitement.

You nodded, asking him why exactly he came, the hours for confessions and personal prayers were over. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to the side.

“I wished to… see you.”

You laughed nervously, running a hand through your hair as you leaned into your seat. “I’m sorry?” You were confused, why would he not wait for when you weren’t working? The man shifted in his seat, hands gently curling around his hood. You bit your tongue as he pulled the hood down, revealing curving horns that sprouted from his head.

He was a demon. He was the demon you had been searching for.

You immediately shot up from your seat and stumbled over to your desk while keeping your gaze on the demon, your hand slid across your desk as you searched for something, anything, to protect you from the creature before you. He pulled his mask off, bright red eyes almost appearing sad as he moved closer to you. “Please don’t be afraid, I mean you no harm.” You had your back pressed against your desk as the demon’s gloved hand gently, so, so gently, grabbed your wrist. “What do you mean you ‘mean me no harm’? You’ve destroyed homes! You’ve killed people damn it!” The demon sighed, lips parted just enough to show you his sharp teeth.

He was so close to you. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his breath hitting against your neck as he leaned even closer. “I know I’ve done those things… but I only wished to grab your attention.” He brought his other hand to your hip, holding you in place. “I just was too afraid to face you when you’d come looking for me.” The demon pulled back to look you in the eyes, both hands now resting on your hips.

“So what do you want… uh—”

“Dottore.”

“—Dottore?”

The demon— Dottore smiled at you, releasing a soft sigh. “I’ve seen you with the church goers. You’re so kind to them, helping them with mundane things, giving them advice and even resources.” Dottore tilted his head to the side in thought, “So much kinder than any god may be… I know it may be foolish but, I hoped you could share a bit of that kindness with me?” You looked at Dottore like he was mad, a demon asking for kindness from a preist? He really was foolish.

But, you didn’t want to turn him away.

If you did, it might mean he would return to terrorizing your village. You brought your hands to the clasp of his cloak, “Very well. You may stay here while I figure out what to do with you.” You removed Dottore’s cloak, watching as his dark wings fanned out, fluttering slightly from his giddiness. He gave you such a big grin, burying his face into your neck as he spoke soft thank yous like a mantra. Such an odd creature he was.

No one could fault you for wanting to have a bit of fun with him, right?

You now had Dottore nude as he leaned against your desk, your hands trailing up his body, his clothing discarded somewhere in uour office. He had been staying with you for a few weeks now, and you couldn’t help yourself from playing with a pretty thing like him. He would’ve never thought the sweet preist of a church in a small village would have such dirty fantasies. He bit back any teasing remarks as you buried your face into his neck, he wouldn’t want to make you upset. Not now, not while you were being so sweet to him.

You pulled your hands from Dottore and smiled at him, squeezing his sides before taking a step back. “Turn around for me, love.” Dottore did just as you asked, shivering when your chest pressed against his back. You were able to slide your fingers into Dottore easily, chuckling when you heard him bite back a whine. “No one’s here but us, you can be as loud as you want my love~” Dottore nodded, groaning as your fingers slid in and out of his hole. You wondered if he was still stretched out from the previous night or if he had a bit of fun without you.

Dottore’s wings fanned out around you as you dug the pads of your fingers into his sweet spot, a loud moan spilling from his lips. You basically had all of Dottore’s body memorized, able to make him feel pure bliss anytime you were alone with him. He adored how you’d kiss his scars, telling him how he was such a lovely thing as you’d slowly finger him. The way you’d laugh in his ear at his moans and whines, teasing him for how easily he’d melt in your hands. But he loved how easily you’d switch from being sweet to mean.

Anytime you’d harshly slap Dottore’s ass, saying such degrading words to him as you rammed your fat cock into his tight hole, it was heavenly. Dottore would always have his head thrown back, desperately clawing at anything he could get his hands on as you’d pump load after load into his greedy hole. The way you’d laugh in his face when he cried after you pulled out to watch your cum spill out of his puffy hold, clicking your tongue at his pleas for you to keep fucking him and fill him back up. Oh, and how once you finished you’d kiss his marred face gently, praising him for being so good to you before cleaning him up.

He loved you, so, so much. Could you blame him for worshiping you and your body like a god? You surely didn’t mind.

Dottore was ripped from his thoughts by you pressing your fingers basically knuckle deep into him, crying out as you made scissoring motions inside of him. Dottore didn’t even notice the drool beginning to spill from his open mouth, desperately squeezing his eyes shut as you drove him to his first orgasm of the night. He heard you gasp slightly, Dottore whimpering as you pulled your fingers out. “You’re so sensitive today, how cute~” You squeezed Dottore’s ass then took a step back, admiring the demon bent over your desk.

Dottore could hear you unbuckling your belt, wings fluttering as excitement bubbled in his chest. You always thought it was adorable how his wings would flap when he was excited. You stepped forward once you pulled our pants and underwear down, rocking your hips and sliding your dick against Dottore’s ass. He whined at the feeling of your length dragging against his skin, pressing his face against your desk.

Dottore mumbled your name softly, so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. “Please turn me around, I-I want to see you.” You laughed at Dottore’s request but did as he asked, turning him around so he was now straddling your hips. You reached up and wiped the drool on his chin, smiling when Dottore leaned into your touch. “You ready?” You repositioned yourself so the tip of your cock was pushing against Dottore’s entrance, chuckling at his flushed face as he nodded, gaze trained on your throbbing dick.

You pushed your hips forward, Dottore biting down on his lip as you shoved your length inside of him. You were so big for a human, your sheer size and how wide you stretched him out making Dottore’s mind feel fuzzy. There was a constant flow of praise from Dottore as you pushed yourself deeper into him, slight tears beading in his eyes from the stretch. No matter how many times he took you he could never get used to your size. He didn’t mind though, a part of him loved the pain.

Once you were fully sheathed inside of Dottore you pressed a hand to his stomach, pressing against the bump in his tummy, laughing at the whine he let out. “It’s me~” You cooed, Dottore rolling his eyes, both of you knew this attitude was just a little ruse he put on at least try and protect his ego before he would go an moan like a bitch in heat on your dick.

Gently, you began to thrust in and out of Dottore, giving him a moment to adjust to your movements. Though, it wasn’t long before Dottore would be begging for you to move faster and you could never hold yourself back for long when you’d see Dottore’s pretty face, expression showing nothing but pure bliss.

You leaned forward and roughly kissed Dottore, something to distract him as you picked up the pace of your thrusts. He groaned against your lips, clawed hands finding home in your hair as you pushed your tongue past his lips. Dottore moaned as you pulled away, feeling you do a particularly hard thrust into him. “You’re clenching so tight around me, mhmm.” You trailed your hands up Dottore’s torso as you spoke. Dottore nodded nodding, only able to focus on the feeling of your cock forcing his body to make room for it.

It was funny, you, the sweet priest having a deadly demon that caused havoc throughout your little village only weeks later becoming your sweet cock-slut.

You pushed Dottore’s hair from his face and kissed the base of his horns, Dottore humming as he leaned against you. He was so clingy, always craving your touch. It would be cute, if not for the snarky remarks he’d say once he was satisfied with your attention. Dottore’s claws raked down your neck and settled onto your back, nails digging into your shirt.

You rested your chin on Dottore’s shoulder, the man shivering when your breath hit his ear. “Careful not to tear my clothes, I have a meeting later.” Dottore nodded, grip loosening just barely. You squeezed Dottore’s hips, grinding against him, pulling little whines from him. You did this for a bit, Dottore about to snap at you, wanting you to move just a bit more, only for you to stop all your movements and make him beg for you to just do something.

You weren’t sure how many times you repeated this routine before you got bored and began pounding into Dottore. He laid back onto your desk, arms covering his face as he leg out the sweetest moans, thighs squeezing and trembling around your hips as you fucked him.

You leaned down and kissed the scars covering Dottore’s body, mumbling praises against his soft skin, relishing in the little protests that escaped him between his moans. No matter how much you told Dottore he was beautiful, how often you gold him you adored every part of him, he would curse and bite back, saying you were insane for loving him so much, but he never made the decision to leave. Never would he reject you when you’d hold him in your lap and shower him with praise and affection.

Dottore gripped your arms tightly, claws digging into the fabric of your shirt and tearing it. What a shame. “You ripped my shirt.” You gazed up at Dottore, seeing the pout that formed on his lips as little tears prickled in his eyes. “Hahh, am I fucking you so good you forgot my directions?” You pulled out fully then snapped your hips against Dottore, the man crying out as his back arched off your desk. “So stupid n’ drunk off my cock you can’t even follow a simple order?” Dottore babbled out apologies, pulling his hands away from your arms as he cried, but you knew he liked it. He adored how quickly you’d go from praising him to degrading him, treating him like he was some cheap whore.

You scoffed at Dottore, squeezing his hips to draw his attention back to you. He looked at you with the prettiest red eyes, seeming as if they sparkles in the dim lighting of your office from his tears. “Clothing can be replaced, ‘m just disappointed you couldn’t hold back for just a little longer.” Dottore frowned, mumbling out a small “sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t sorry.

You sighed, leaning forward and kissing Dottore, feeling his hands rest on your shoulders, no longer caring if his claws tore your clothing. You began to bite and mark Dottore’s neck and shoulders, taking in all the little whines he released right by your ear. You groaned when you felt Dottore clench down around you, biting his neck to try and suppress your own sounds.

He felt so good around you, so tight and warm, you could never get enough of Dottore. You hummed, feeling your orgasm drawing closer and closer, mumbling in Dottore’s ear. “I’m gonna cum, you’ll let me, yeah?” You harshly kissed Dottore, teeth mashing against teeth, your tongue feeling along his sharp teeth, “You’ll let me cum in you, baby?” You smiled when Dottore let out a weak “Yeah.” leaning forward and kissing him once again, your thrusts becoming fast and uneven, only thought in your mind being how badly you wanted to fill Dottore up.

You pulled away from Dottore’s lips and pressed your forehead against his, letting out an airy moan as you released inside of him. Dottore came shortly after, rolling his hips against you as he rode out his high, his head thrown back as he gripped your shoulders tightly. It wasn’t long before you were moving again, now harshly thrusting against Dottore, never letting up as you stuffed your cum deeper and deeper into him, filling him up to the brim. You could see his tummy becoming round and almost appearing bloated with how much cum you stuffed into him, some of it spilling out with each of your thrusts.

Dottore couldn’t complain, not when he felt so good and was so fucked out. He might have wanted to make some snarky remark, tease you for always wanting to fill Dottore up so you could watch your cum spill out of his hole, but at this point he couldn’t. The only thought on his mind was how good he felt, how amazing it was to be filled with your warm cum and how he loved your dick inside of him. Dottore honestly wasn’t quite sure how many times he had cum himself, only focused on you filling him.

You sighed after releasing in Dottore, not sure just now many times you had. Stumbling back, you pulled him into your lap as you sat in your chair, running your hands though his hair. Dottore pressed his face into your neck, gently kissing and nipping your skin. “You’re always so clingy when we finish.” Dottore scoffed, pulling away so he could look at you, wings stretching out behind him as his back popped. “Shut up.” His voice was hoarse, tears and drool dried on Dottore’s face, he didn’t seem to care though.

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around Dottore and pulling him into a hug, playing with his hair and occasionally petting his soft wings, Dottore humming against you. “How long until your next meeting?” You glanced at the clock on your wall, humming to yourself as you thought. “Few hours, why?” Dottore smiled, leaning up and biting your jaw. “That’s good, I want you all to myself for a bit.” You chuckled at Dottore’s words, kissing the base of one of his horns. “I told you you were clingy.” Dottore scoffed once again but didn’t speak, simply burying his face into your neck.

#— events: monster luvrs #— vincent’s stories #genshin smut #dottore smut #dottore x reader #sub dottore #dottore x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin x reader #sub genshin #genshin impact smut #il dottore smut #sub il dottore

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lasirenatarot · 9 months

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{18+}What turns them ON about you?❤️‍🔥

Pick -a-card reading.

*intended for your specific person in mind, but can be used for future spouse if you modify the question. If traditional gender roles don’t apply to your situation convert the words to feminine&masculine energy.*

->Pile 1

{Brad and Angelina}

{cards that fell: king of fire; mirror; justice; the world;5 pentacles;ace of swords; 7wands; ace of swords;2 wands}

This pile is really interesting, this person loves earning you in a way, feeling emotionally $ubmi$$ive, like you have control over them in all aspects without even touching them.

You may be bossy,this is definitely a turn on for your person. Ironically you chose the Brad&Angelina pic, and the situation being painted with those cards is exactly Mr and Mrs energy.

They enjoy a push and pull dynamic. If you try to dominate them I feel like they would also enjoy it👀 (even if they seem sceptical at first).

Arguing may be a turn on of theirs, puni$hing them with your absence or other ways when they don’t act accordingly; (that includes the makeup $£x after.) May sound toxic for some, but they may be one of those people that start little arguments for the smallest things sometimes, on purpose, so you two can ‘make up’ and they can ‘apologise’ by being good and pleasing you however you want (you know how) after..

They like when you’re acting kinda bitchy & like you’re ‘the prize’ they need to earn, but the key here is to do everything in moderation and not be mean&rude 24/7.

Your confidence may be a turn on for them. When you’re seducing them on purpose and then pulling away &acting like they can’t have you..(yet), because they should work more and ‘be better’ to get your attention. Your person needs constant passion to feel stimulated.

->Pile 2

{Vincent and Monica}

Cards that fell: 2fire,the punishment,earth,the priestess, 9water,king of water, 9swords,10chalices,knave of chalices,9pentacles,2pentacles }

This person loves the fact that you seem to have no restraints around them, you are quite open emotionally, in tune with your emotional side and know how to balance it well. (earth sign moon/venus energy).

Getting dolled up for them is sth they would probably appreciate- nice dress, hair & makeup done..

It may be a turn on for them knowing only they can have you in ways other people cannot.(you can tell them some bs like ‘yOu’Re tHe bEst I eVer Had..’ etc😂😂 it doesn’t matter if it is actually true, it would make them feel like a God.)

Praising them may be a turn on as well, it would make them feel more dominant, more in their power. Letting them take the control in bed, as well as non-$€xu@l situation would also be a little turn on for them, again, it would make them feel appreciated.

Knowing they can be the person that is capable of fulfilling all your needs is something very important to them. This pile is heavy on the praise k/ink, they need to feel desired&needed.

When you attend to them & their feelings, have obvious feelings for them ( i feel like this is important to mention, they may have been in a relationship where they’ve felt unappreciated, unwanted, not desired enough by their previous partner. The partner might have used them in a way.)

$€xting and writing notes to keep the anticipation during the day when u’re not together may work on them.👀

->Pile 3

{Jane et Serge}

Cards that fell: the moon, justice, the tower, 8pentacles, 10wands, 8fire,6air, 4swords, the world, king of air, ace of fire, temperance }

It will be hard to explain this energy but bare with me:

This person probably likes what I like to call more « bright » women- women who are confident&feminine, such who love the spotlight and getting lots of attention. ( in my mind is this scene where Jessica Rabit where she performs..)

People who are sensual & confident but not arrogant may be just their type.

A situation where they can feel turned on by you is for example if (hypothetically speaking) you’re in a group setting with some ppl who do not like you, they are passive aggressive with you, but you choose not to reply with the same energy and remain kind&graceful.(they may feel the urge to protect you and stand up for you in such situations) When you act like a « damsel in distress » basically, and they can be your « savior »..

A turn on for them I feel like it would be a situation where you’re ‘feeling yourself’, for example if you’re dancing in the club and they happen to be there as well and see you doing that.. $educing them in public places where you can get caught (or public $\€x)

Another turn on for them would be for you to ‘put on a show’ for them (you can decide yourself how, ex. give them a lap dance or sth, beautiful lingerie, a special dress..). They probably like the concept of « femme fatale » type of women who can ‘turn their life’ around.

This may not resonate for all, but if you are from a different culture/country, this may also be a turn on for them.

Decks used: ‘$£xual magic’ oracle deck by Lo Scarabeo; ‘Manara’ €rotic tarot deck by Milo Manara/ Lo Scarabeo;

That was all from today’s PAC.

thank you for reading! Hope it resonated.💞 Don’t forget to follow for more.

-La Sirena.💋

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multific · 10 months

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Small Kisses

Vincent De Gramont x Wife!Reader

Warning: mention of toxic obsession and kidnapping (not done by Vincent)

Summary: You loved the tickle of his lips on your skin.

Vincent loved to give you small kisses.

No matter the reason. He just loved doing it wherever you two were.

A formal event?

A simple dinner?

A small date?

Or just staying in bed all day?

You swore the reason Vincent lived was to give you his sweetest kisses. A man so cunning and proud as him, yet he would be the proudest and calmest whenever he was with you.

You were his beautiful wife whom he loved with all of his dark heart.

But you didn't mind the blood, the murder and the insanity of it all.

Because every time he killed someone in the most brutal way, he would also come home to you, his gorgeous suit covered in blood, and give you such a sweet kiss.

It was honestly confusing rather than anything.

Vincent was a very classy man. He enjoyed the luxuries in life. High-end products, and he always made sure that you lived in the same luxury.

On your last birthday, he gifted you an original Monét piece.

The painting is currently right above your bed.

If he could, he would buy you the Mona Lisa.

He would literally make sure that you are dripping in diamonds, much like how he did for his birthday when he got you a special gown, made out of diamonds.

Once he said: "I would change the Mona Lisa to a painting of you, you are far more beautiful, Mon Amour."

His sweet talking always worked.

No matter how angry you were because of something, he would always say the sweetest things and then give you a small kiss to your forehead.

“My Beautiful Wife, even stunning when she is mad at me.”

“I would kill any man for you, Mon Amour. You don’t have to ask.”

“I must apologise, I believe I have lacked in my duties as a husband, Mon Amour. I believe you forgot just how much I love you.”

He would always make sure that you are happy and protected.

Even when one time, he failed to do that.

Well, it was more like his men failed, not him.

When you were taken, he was furious. Too furious to say or do anything other than rage.

You were taken by a man. A man so insane, you never saw anything like this.

He kept on going on about how he knew you were in love with him, how he knew that you only married Gramont for the money and how now, you two can be together.

He scared you.

His obsession with you was toxic, you could see just how crazy he was in his eyes. Every time he used the word 'love' it sent a shiver up and down your spine.

When Vincent finally got to you, you were shaking in fear. The only thing that managed to calm you was Vincent's kisses.

The smallest little kisses he placed all along your body. He also spoke in French some calming words but you could only recall the tickle of his lips when he found a soft spot.

And when the next couple of days you woke up with a shiver, having nightmares about the man who abducted you, it was Vincent who calmed you down.

It was he who kept waking up with you, never leaving your side, promising he would never leave or let this ever happen to you while placing kisses on your hands, knuckles and palm.

Vincent loved to give you small kisses on any exposed skin that you have.

But you loved the tickle of his lips on your skin even more.

His little kisses were the true proof of his love for you.

Vincent Taglist: @l4venderia

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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desmorotu · 2 months

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random redacted headcanons :3 ⭐️

- Geordi has read the harry potter series three times and when Cutie does something that aligns with their house he points it out in his mind. Cutie responds with a sideways glare LMAO (speaking of Geordi, i miss that guy:( i was listening to his playlist earlier today)

- Guy plants little love notes all around his and Honey’s apartment for them to find. he pretends he doesn’t know that they keep every single one and reads them often.

- Asher is on the super possessive side when it comes to Baaabe. he just hides it because he feels embarrassed by it.

- David still thinks about Angel’s cat and secretly wishes they were able to take it when they had the chance (“if we keep it it’s your cat, not mine” my ass)

- Milo breaks into dance randomly. with no music. in public or in private, it does not matter. he will think of a song in his head and bust a move.

- Damien is desperately trying to get Huxley into Resident Evil

- Damien loves Leon Kennedy just as much as the next guy, but his favorite character is Luis :3

- Lasko has his nipples pierced. idk it just seems like something he’d do

- Gavin walks around without pants often. Freelancer has had to tell him on multiple occasions to put pants on when the guys are over. he, in true Magnus Bane fashion, likes wearing a formal button down + blazer combo with no pants (he actually pulls it off surprisingly well) ((he IS wearing underwear))

- Huxley collects chapsticks. i’m not elaborating.

- if Hush was an aquatic creature, he would be a mako shark :3

- Sam has Kiss’ entire discography. he grew up listening to them over the years and it reminds him how far he had come in life

- Vincent sometimes dresses up for the hell of it, crown and all, and makes Lovely dress up with him and takes pictures. it has to be a VERY specific kind of mood and a very specific kind of day.

- William and the other elder vampires like David Bowie…those are just the vibes i get

- Caelum loves throwing dance parties with Gavin and Freelancer. they have never turned him down. when an “inappropriate” song comes on, Caelum sits with his mouth wide open and giggles to himself in disbelief. (“they said too many bad words…execute them” - caelum probably)

these are just random and stupid and they made me giggle

k bye 💟

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small-sinclair · 10 months

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Heyy! Uhm so this is my first ever request but could you maybe do:

The sinclairs, jason voorhees, michael myers, brahms heelshire

Being needy for their gn! S/O and begging for S/O to touch them?

Not forcing or anything you don't have to!

Thank you!!!

Sfw :3

Slashers: The Sinclairs, Michael Myers (young), Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Thomas Hewitt

I haven’t written for Michael, Jason or Thomas before.

Slashers who are touched starved.

Bo wanted to collapse in your arms as soon as he came home late tonight. He took off his boots and hung his hat before crawling upstairs. He snuck into your shared room, smiling when he saw how soft and comfortable you were sleeping. He threw his shirt in the corner and put on his sleeping pants silently.

He was gentle to lay next to you, curling into your back, and laid in your hair. He gave a sleep kiss before taking a hold of you and placing on his chest.

“Bo?” You murmur sleepily as you buried your face in his neck. “What time is it?”

“2:30am,” he drawled heavily, running his hands up and down your back and sides. “Missed ya, sweetness.”

You say something, but he’s too tired to hear. He’s just happy to have you in his arms.

Vincent

His rough hands rest on your hips as he lays his head in the crook of your neck. Working with wax in a hot basement with no look of relief, he’s happy he gets to touch you and love you. He always loved the smell of you and how soft your skin is.

“You okay, lovely?” You asked, your hands running through his hair. “Long morning?”

He whimpers and nods as he hugs tighter, nuzzling into neck.

“Okay, hun,” you whispered, smiling as you said his name,” “Vincent, I’ll be here.”

Lester

After a long day of driving, roadkill, and running visitors to Ambrose, Lester just wants you. He buried his face into your hair and cling onto you. He hugs and rests on your side as you two watch tv, his eyes closed as you run your fingers through his hair. He curls into you and sighs in contempt.

“Long day?” You hummed, and he nods, mumbling something. He buried his face into your shirt.

There’s nowhere else he wanted to be but holding you close.

Michael Myers

He doesn’t understand why he lets his guard down around you. Why he’s less tense and more calmer. He doesn’t understand how you can do it, and it scars him. Him being scared… that doesn’t sit well with him.

But when he took off his mask and let you cup his cheeks, he melts. He falls right into your hands and holds them there. Cursed or damned, he feels free with your touch, and he smiles for the first time since he was a kid.

He moves closer until he has you in his chest, large hands over your head. He closed his eyes and felt human. Felt like the man his mother always wanted and never feared.

Just stay in his arms for a while, y/n. Let him rest in you touch this autumn night.

Jason Voorhees

He’s not one for touches or closeness. Underneath his mask is a hell scape or scars and wounds, and it gotten to the point where he can’t stand to see himself in the mirror. However, when you came to visit at the breach durning the night at the camp, waving at him from shore, he just knew he had to feel your hand in his.

And that wish came true after a few years later and a couple walks on the beach. He finds his hand in yours and your head on his shoulder, talking about tomorrow’s camp actives with archery and trying out the new rock wall. His hands are bigger than yours, but he holds your hand none the less.

One day, he’ll hug you. One day he’ll hold you. For now, simple steps. Simple steps.

Brahms Heelshire

There isn’t a time of day when he’s not by your side. His hand on your hip, head on your chest, touching your shoulders, having you sit on his lap— he needs you all day every day.

At night during the winter, that’s when snuggles come in. He has you curled into his chest as he rubs your back. He looks up at the ceiling then out the window at the snow. He smiles to himself as he glances down at you. He holds you close and drifts to sleep. He’ll never have to face cold nights alone. He’ll never know it again because you’re here.

Thomas Hewitt

His rough hands finds your waist as he buried his face into your neck. Before you can say anything, he spins you around and lift you up. He holds you in the air as if you weigh nothing to him. His upper hand rakes through your hair as he has you rest on his shoulder.

He melts when you hold his face and smile down at him. “Hi,” you whisper, giggling slightly.

He smiles under his mask and leans against you hands, humming to himself. He takes in your scent and relaxes. He didn’t know how much he need to be near you until your smile made his heart flutter and stop.

Do it again and again, over and over, until he thinks about nothing but you.

#bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #house of wax (2005)#bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #jason vorhees #jason vorhees x you #friday the 13th #michael myers #michael myers x you #halloween michael myers #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x you #texas chainsaw the beginning

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visualbutterflysworld · 3 months

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Forgive me? | Vhackerr

When reader and Vinnie get into a bad argument things seem to take a turn for the worse when vinnie says something he shouldn’t. Could this be the end or could this just become the beginning of a true relationship?

I low key had a dream about this type of scenario like years ago and randomly thought of it so :P also probably sloppy writing

“That’s so fucking stupid!” Vinnie screams at me. Vinnie and I had been dating for about 5 months now. We usually don’t fight. I mean not like this. We were fighting about us and what we were. If I said me and him were just friends he’d flip but if I’d ask to post about us he’d deflect.

“It’s not! You should understand about how I feel! I just want the world to know about us! That’s it!” I scream. “Yeah, because you want your fifteen minutes of fame! Such a fucking leach like everyone else!” Vinnie yelled back. I stand there with disbelief. He for real just said that.

Vinnie huffs before he realizes what he has said. “Y/n-” “No, fuck you, Vincent! You think I’m with you because you’re some fucking celebrity?! I’m with you because I love you! Because I love you more than I love myself! More than life itself! I was willing to wait till you were ready but I’m sick of waiting! I’m sick of feeling like I’m some fucking monster that you have to keep hidden from the world but, you know what, since you think that poorly on my character then we shouldn’t let the world know! We shouldn’t let the world know that we had any sorta of connection because we’re fucking done!” I scream at him. I quickly grab the rest of my stuff before heading towards the door.

“I’ll have somebody come get the rest of my shit. Please fuck off you entitled dick!” Is the last thing I shout before slamming the door. The rest is a blur. One minute I’m in the hallway of his building and next I’m sitting on my bathroom floor crying my heart out to my mom.

“Honey, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’m sure right then and there he would’ve said I love you too.” My mother says as I sob quietly. I told that asshole I loved him. Can you believe that? I’m not sure I meant it but my heart is telling me I did. I told him we were over but, I don’t want it to be over. I get a notification from my phone.

Instagram

Vinnie Hacker has posted on their story

“Yeah, I got to go mom. I’ll talk to you later.” I said and quickly hang up. It takes all my will power not to click on it immediately but my hands seem to have a mind of its own. I click on his story.

My hand instantly goes to my mouth. He posted me. He called me his girl. That asshole. I hear my doorbell ring and I know who it is. I quickly get onto my feet and go to my door. I open it and there he is. My favorite flowers and food in hand. I look up at him and he seems like he can’t maintain eye contact but he does anyways.

“I’m so so so sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that I called you that. That was wrong. Very wrong of me. I don’t assume that you’re with me because I’m well me. I know that. I’ve been known that..just I fucked up because that’s what I do. I fuck up anything good in my life because I’m afraid of being hurt. You’re too good for me and I honestly don’t deserve you but, I posted you on my story so now you’re like kinda force to be with me anyways. I mean I’ll grovel if you want but, fuck I can’t let you go! I’m sorry and I love you! I mean…I think I love you more than you love me but-”

“Vincent!”

He blinks for the first time in 3 minutes. “Yeah?” “You should probably come inside before my food gets cold.” I smile softly at him. He lights up instantly and quickly makes his way inside. He sets the flowers and food down before turning to me. “I’m really sorry! We can go slow! We can start over and pretend this fight never happened like now we’re officially dating or something!” I run up and hug him. “Vinnie, we’re okay.” I kiss him quickly and his face follows mine as I lean away. “I mean…you’re gonna have to do some major groveling if you want to be my boyfriend again but I think we’re still dating.”

He smirks, “that’s fine by me.”

This was so trash but I’m sick and wanted to post something so :P

#vincent hacker #vinnie hacker #vhackerr #bwwm couples #bwwmromance #oneshot #love #lovers #vinnie hacker x reader

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akindplace · 17 days

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The thing about romanticizing the tortured artist trope is that it takes very serious health conditions, physical, mental, and emotional ones, and it turns it into a very empty aesthetic made for consumption. It takes a life story, and it turns it into a punch line, an easy way out to explain a lifelong struggle while having no regard for the person who actually lived it.

It’s a way of simplifying something so complex as a whole life story, take away the good parts, the artist’s talent, and atribute years and year of studying and practicing their craft to an illness. As if it makes people feel better that maybe they aren’t geniuses but at least they aren’t “insane”.

Artists are constantly working to the bone to get people to see and understand their art, to change the current status quo, to perfect their craft. The most important thing is not how an artist died. It’s the life they lived, the work they’ve left behind, their mark on the world. Reducing people to a tragedy is not a way of appreciating their genius: their art is.

No one is a genius because of their illness, their trauma, their suffering, but because they studied and worked hard to develop the aptitude they were born with. Talent is not a miracle, it’s a lifelong effort.

This stereotype is extremely harmful to people who are currently struggling with those health problems, and it should not be used to “give pain a meaning”, because there is always so much more to someone’s life than suffering, and there is always so much more to your own life than romanticizing your own struggles and those of others.

Pain is meant to be worked through, not fed. And when you feed yourself the myth that an artist was brilliant because they were sick, you are erasing a big part of their life to try and make sense of yours. But you won’t find true meaning in life if you’re only feeding your sorrow instead of maybe, just maybe, doing what those artists did and work through it with your own art.

A lot of them did not have any access to healthcare because their conditions were unknown, but they did what they could to keep going. Their deaths don’t mean they gave up in a big tragic ending, and reducing them to that means you’re erasing everything they did to keep going, every fight, every effort they put into their own health and into their life’s work.

I love impressionist art ever since I was in elementary school, my favorite artist being Vincent Van Gogh. I was first introduced to his story as a man who had a mental illness and died a tragic death, while struggling financially and never being recognized properly during his lifetime.

But you see, Vincent Van Gogh had his brother Theo, who kept all the letters his older brother sent him, and sent his brother words of admiration, support, and unconditional love in his own.

He helped Vincent financially so he could pursue his paiting career. He saw the talent in his own brother even when others might’ve not. The period when Vincent was doing a little better with his health was actually when he was most prolific in his painting, which shuts down the idea that someone must be on the gutter and on the deepest pain and sickness to produce great art.

Most people in really poor health have a hard time managing daily life, and they probably won’t miraculously produce their best work yet while they in extreme suffering (I dare you to make the greatest work of art you’re capable of while you’re down with the flu, now imagine being in constant physical, mental and emotional distress and people think you can just make just about anything). Great art takes a lot of work. Genius and suffering don’t go hand in hand, and it reductive to explain away talent by an illness, as if any effort artists put into their craft was meaningless.

Theo named his own son after his brother, and after Vicent died, he still wanted to make his work known, and after his own death, his wife Johanna kept working on Theo’s mission besides her own political activism. She published the letters between the two brothers, and her own son helped in making Van Gogh’s work even more well known. Even though he was just a baby when his uncle died, he kept his memory alive by founding a world famous museum in his name.

Vincent Van Gogh was able to keep working because he was helped by his own family, financially, emocionally, and was given every encouragement so he could go on with his own career. He painted more when he got medical help, even though in his own time he would have had access to much simpler treatments, since the understanding of illnesses has largely changed in the last centuries.

Healthcare, support, compassion and understanding go a long way, and that’s why it’s important to keep pushing society to be more inclusive to people with illnesses - so they will get the help they need, so they won’t leave earlier than they should.

Vincent Van Gogh’s name is not well known just because of his own efforts, but also by the efforts of those who loved him and kept his name alive long after he was gone. He is not famous because he was a tortured artist. He is famous because those who loved him tried to help him in the ways they could, even after he was gone. His fame is not the result of his death, but of his life’s work and the work of those around him.

Love made him known. Support allowed him to keep working. Getting some help even at a time people did not understand his condition well enough meant he could paint more.

Van Gogh was only human, and he felt such a broad spectrum of emotions and lived through so many things, just as we all do. Behind those paintings, there is a person, a story, and so much hard work, and none of that can be reduced to the romanticized ideal of a tragic death of a tortured man.

It is not about his pain, his suffering, his death, you see. It’s about his life. And it’s about the life of those who loved him. He was able to do what he loved because he was loved, and that is the reason is remembered to this day.

I will end this long post with one of his most famous quotes:

“There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.”

#van gogh #theo van gogh #johanna van gogh-bonger #Vincent willem Van Gogh #on being human #on the tortured artist trope #original writing #on compassion #on art #on love

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madebycloud · 1 year

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A Masterpiece

wednesday addams x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you led wednesday through the cavernous halls of the art museum. but for wednesday, there was only one work of art that truly mattered: you. warnings/themes: fluff, art museum date words: 0.8k (it's too short, im sorry) note: this fic is based on a song i listen to while I'm in class, so i hope you enjoy it! (ignore the grammar errors.)

Wednesday should've said no.

Her writing time was too precious to be spent in an art museum. She had plans to brainstorm more ideas for the stories and poems she wanted to publish in the near future. Wednesday had always been a writer at heart, and she felt like her creativity flowed best when she was alone and surrounded by her own thoughts.

But with your bright smiles and enthusiastic jumps, it was hard to say no. She knew that your love for art was endless.

For you, art is more than just a hobby or a passion, it's a way of life. You adore the colors, the details, and the meaning behind every brushstroke.

The prospect of seeing your face light up with excitement was all the motivation she needed to accept the invitation.

You walked through the museum, admiring the art, discussing history and technique, and letting your enthusiasm shine through.

Wednesday followed you, with soft music playing in the background. She could hear the footsteps of other visitors, the rustle of clothes, and the quiet whisper of conversations.

You stop to admire a famous painting, the Mona Lisa, and your eyes light up as you take in the beauty of Leonardo da Vinci's work.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You pointed out the intricate details, the colors, and the perfection of every stroke. "I'm not sure which word is best, but it's certainly a masterpiece."

She couldn't help but turn to look at you as you stood before a painting, smiling as you admired it.

A masterpiece? Wednesday couldn't understand how you could refer to a painting with nothing but paint on it, just splashes all over, as a masterpiece.

Your hair, your eyes, your nose, your lips— Wednesday was mesmerized by your beauty, feeling as though she were looking at a work of art come to life.

That was the moment she realized that you were the true masterpiece, and no painting, sculpture, or drawing could ever compare to the beauty of you.

You looked at the painting and felt like a true artist. You knew you couldn't recreate the beauty before you, but your hands yearned to try. Your mind was abuzz with ideas, and you wanted to share your thoughts with Wednesday.

She was the masterpiece, your muse, the inspiration for everything you desired to create in this moment.

The way her brown eyes shone like the stars in the sky, her freckles dotting her skin like a constellation— she was the definition of perfection. You wanted to capture her on canvas, to preserve her perfection forever. But for now, you would enjoy her presence and let your imagination run wild.

You looked back at the painting. Feeling the blood rush in your ears.

"But you know, some people don't really appreciate art," you continued, referring to the people in front of you who were taking pictures. "They take pictures just to add to their social media, done. They don't try to understand the essence of the artwork, all the emotions and hard work put into it."

Wednesday nodded in agreement, understanding that some people just don't try to understand the emotions and hard work that artists put into their art. It takes years of practice to perfect their craft, and some people just look at the surface level of it.

You checked your watch and noticed it was time to go back. You asked, "So, which styles of art did you enjoy the most? Did you prefer classical, medieval, romanticism, basque, or could you relate to Leonardo da Vinci's art, maybe even Vincent van Gogh or Claude Monet's works? Tell me, my love." You asked, tilting your head as you walked, trying to make conversation and get a feel for her perspective on the artwork.

Wednesday paused for a moment, considering your question, before her eyes met yours. She finally spoke, her voice low and serious. "Your question is so banal and pointless," she said, rolling her eyes.

She continued, her eyes still locked with yours "Art is a subjective experience, influenced by myriad factors such as one's personal taste, cultural background, and emotional state. But if I had to choose, I would say that, to me, the most beautiful art is the art of life itself. And looking at you, my dear, I can't help but see the most exquisite and breathtaking work of art that I have ever had the privilege of laying my eyes upon."

You can't help but smile as you look down at her. Her slender frame, her pale complexion, her dark hair… everything about her seems to radiate a sense of beauty and mystery.

And as she leans in to loop her arm around yours, you realize that this is not just a moment, but a memory that you will cherish forever.

How did you manage to find someone as wonderful as her? You ask yourself as you look up at the sky.

Knowing that you want to share all of life's beauty and wonder with her makes you want to spend the rest of your days with her.

#wednesday addams imagine #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x you #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #wednesday addams fluff #fluff #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x reader

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