deafsignifcantother

[deafsignifcantother]

i was bored so here's some sketches of human vees!

[deafsignifcantother]

They forgot to tell him

[deafsignifcantother]

I usually only draw vox lol

[deafsignifcantother]

the newest guest

�� summary: ur alastor's pookie bear but like in an admiration way not a purely romantic way. "gaze softens as soon as it lands on you" - @urfriendlywriter ♥ relationship: alastor x gender neutral deaf reader ♥ word count: 1.7 ♥ notes: reader is stone deaf

Whether it's the early morning or late at night, the red sky is the same. You and Alastor sit on his balcony, your ankles crossed from under the tea table, and he is copying your position. In his hand is a red mug. He has on his tight red suit while his red ears face forward.

"Now, I can't directly claim the hotel as mine, but I very much do my best to keep it running smoothly," he signs. He finds himself incapable of pushing down the feeling of mischief when he makes eye contact with you. You make him all the more astounded. You're staring at him as if he's an angel. Why are you staring at him with such admiration? It's frightening. His smile grows while the radio static tickles your skin more and more.

You sign to him, "You're doing a good job."

"Yes, I certainly am." He stares at you patiently while your eyes look around for what seems like the 100th time. Every time you look at the city, you notice something different. He doesn't know what you're looking for, but his eyes never follow; he just keeps staring at you.

When you don't turn to look at him again, he taps his nails against the table until your attention goes to him again. His smile grows. "Will you grant me the pleasure of knowing why you're here, my dear?"

"I want to see what it's like in here," your eyes glance at the windows and the bright lights on the roof. "And maybe I feel a little motivated to be good." He hears your throat make a soft, laugh-like noise as you continue, "You don't seem to be here for the same reason."

"Correct" is the only response. When you examine his face closer, you notice how sharp the ends of his teeth are and the multiple shades of red in his eyes. You nod, waiting for him to add anything else. He just stares at you with his usual wide eyes and dangerous smile.

.

He walks you back to your room as a gentleman should. He lets you lock your arms together as you two walk. Neither of you sign; you both just bask in peace. He always wondered what it would be like to live in silence.

The hallways last forever, and only a few doors are decorated. You both land at your doorstep and when you enter your room, he pushes you in before you can shut the door. The gust of wind his fast body produces brushes your cheek.

Okay, welcome in.

His eyes scan the room as if he hadn't been there before.

"This room is absolutely boring!" He signs with wide eyes as he turns and looks around the room. "What happened to the things I put up?"

He refers to the human skulls he had hung up on the walls and the long stream of bloody handprints, his handprints. Perhaps it was a form of affection, but you did not want it staining your walls.

You give him an eye roll while you shrug off your shoes. He watches you as you walk to the bed unmistakably. Being in your room offers pure relaxation and comfort, especially after he wakes you up at 5AM to have tea with him on the balcony. Before you can sit on the bed, the floor beneath you vibrates.

With a silent snap of his fingers, the bland, unaccustomed bed was replaced by a huge, fluffy-looking queen-size bed.

You glance back at him before switching your gaze to the new furniture. Since when could he do that?

He just stands idly in the middle of the room, creating new decor to impress you. What would his new little darling like next? A chair by the fireplace? A shelf for little trinkets, not human skulls this time?

You sit on the bed and see what the mattress and sheets feel like. Alastor hears the sound of your hums. His toothy smile widens. In the calm, radiating light of your room, his eyes can almost be mistaken for pink.

His mic taps the floor as the bed shakes, trying to grab your attention. Your eyes meet as he twirls the mic and signs with his other hand.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"It's comfortable, thank you."

His smile becomes close-lipped before he bows to you. "It's a joy to pleasure you, sweetheart."

"Of course." 

There's a slight pause. You wait for Alastor to continue, but he doesn't. He just stares with that familiar look in his eyes. With a tiny bit of shyness, you break the eye contact.

It's awful to think about him this way. He's giving you the world, apparent, but is it because he pities you? You think about that every single day while in the hotel. Your impulsive thoughts always tell you these people are only here for you because they pity you.

Is he going out of his way to make you feel better for that reason? And how does that make you feel?

"Anyway," he looks around the room for a final time. "What are our plans for today?"

"Our?" The sign is flighty. With the sign comes the tired look in your eyes; your body calls for you to sleep. A million thoughts go through his head. He stares, and you shrink while his eyes burn into you. It's how he looked at you when you first entered the hotel. Your eyes flickered around the room, taking in every detail as quickly as possible. You counted the number of people in the room while counting them in your head. How many people would you have to teach some sign to? Who has five fingers? Who looks like they'd learn the fastest? By the sight of you, Charlie brought you into a hug, and Alastor appeared behind you just as quickly. He held his microphone behind his back with his crossed arms. Who was this little one? Your eyes flickered up to his tall form. His eyes were burning into you.

He still stares at you this way.

"Yes, our! Would you not wish to spend your day with me?" His head tilts as his eyelids drop. Maybe him knowing sign meant that you are stuck with him.

You give him a small smile. "We do so many things all the time, how about we stay in here for just a little while before going out again."

"Absolutely!" He spins his cane with one hand while he signs. He taps is on the ground, removing his grip, his cane remaining in its place even when he lets go. "Such a brilliant idea, what should we do? Maybe a little game of rummy?" He summons a table with cards and sits at it, all the while you remain sitting on your bed with that same small smile.

"It's early."

"Yes indeed! It is much too early for a game of rummy, maybe that should be postponed into our later evening. Let me see? What could we possible do in this little room of yours?" He was about to snap his fingers to conjure something until you clapped at him, waving your hands, "nothing like that! Can we laze, or something?"

"Ah, a good 'break', as to say."

You turn away from him, hoping he'd catch your hint by laying down on the bed. It is impressively comfortable, more than you would have suspected, especially considering he most likely did it to his liking rather than assuming yours. Surrounded by the comfort of the untouched pillows, you close your eyes, waiting for him to startle you into opening them again.

But he doesn't.

He watches you from his place. Look at you, so tired, it's so cute. It doesn't deter him from his plans on waking you up to hang out with him tomorrow morning as well, but it is a bit charming to see. You feel safe enough in his presence to close your eyes around him. Why are you so comfortable? He teleports closer to you, trying his best to hide the close distance as he leans a bit closer. Your lashes flutter a bit.

Of course you knew how close he was. He is always blissfully unaware of his much his static tickles your skin. How funny would it be if you spring up and wrap your hands around him (obviously you wouldn't, but the impulse is amusing enough to entertain).

You remain there with eyes close, complete alert of what his next steps might be. He doesn't bother you, doesn't try and move you or interact with your space at all. Within no time, he is gone.

Well, he thinks to himself, the little fawn does need rest after all.

And one might remain vigilant and wary of any ulterior motives or hidden agendas behind the kindness being displayed. Wariness and relief are your main emotions when it comes to his patience with you. What does he get out of being so nice to you, is it because you are a guest? Avoiding harm is good, and you do experience his pestering as much as everybody else, but at least it's tolerable. He must appreciate that greatly. His larger scheme is entirely hotel-oriented, of course, but where does that place you?

Close to him, you assume. Perhaps he just likes to exercise his knowledge of ASL.

.

His sits in the lobby with a pen in his hand, drawing small figures on the pamphlet he's been trying to design. Charlie has come up with an amazing idea; handing out pamphlets! He has said that he will be the one to come up with a fantastical way of alluring people to the hotel, despite his teasing display of the hotel from his commercial. He does love expressing his creative side.

His behavior is a bit different than before you had arrived. The other guests, Vaggie and Husk in particular, took extreme notice in the fact that he's decided to spend his free time in the lobby rather than off in who-knows. He's waiting for your appearance. Everybody can sense it, even though he never glances at the stairs or even offers a twitch of his ears at the footsteps around him. He'll know when you arrive. He always does.

So when you finally land yourself at the top of the stairs, looking down at the lobby, staring at his tilted down head and his bouncing feet from the cushioned chair, you smile to yourself when he lifts his head. His concentrated gaze softens as soon as it lands on you. Within no time, he's folding the paper into his pocket and promptly pops up behind you, wrapping an arm around yours and leads you down the flight.

How excited he is to spend the rest of the day with you. It's cute.

#x deaf reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #alastor #alastor x reader

[deafsignifcantother]

MORE DUCKIES!! MOREEE

[deafsignifcantother]

is that enough? (nsfw)

♥ summary: asa comes home from the most irritating kill he's had so far, and is less affectionate to his wife as a result. she is not impressed by this behavior at all, and tries to find a way to [stubbornly] cheer the both of them up [very stubbornly].

♥ relationship: asa emory x wife deaf reader

♥ word count: 4.3k

♥ warnings: reader is a brat, lots of murder talk, sex scene ends with a time jump and doesn't finish tbh bc i just wanted to form a story around the paragraph he says LOL.

✦

When I said I would l die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

✦

You continue to shift around in your bed, the room so dark except for one beam of moonlight. For the last hour, you've gone from staring at the ceiling to lying on your stomach against a pillow.

Asa was not back by now, which raised no such concern; you were just annoyed. He knew precisely what was expected and what time you wanted him home (giving a curfew to a killer? only you).

And alas, as you lay on your side and stare out of the window, you notice the reflection of your bedroom door opening. Asa's head peeks in. His eyes are dull; it's the only detail you can point out in the dark.

You instantly turn and hold your hand out for him to touch. He doesn't respond to you or acknowledge you at all, only stares. His eyes hold no compassion; he stares right through you. It takes a few seconds before he even moves. Your eyebrows furrow while you watch him shut the door before he climbs into bed beside you.

You wrap your arms around him and kiss his shoulder. Is he trying to unease you on purpose? Possibly, or else it's something that happened while he was out.

He's entirely still except for the slow breaths he takes. Noticeable only by the whites of his eyes, he's looking at the ceiling. If he continues acting like this, you'll run up, turn on the lights, and shove your hands in his face.

With the instincts of a devoted husband, he adds motion to the moment of stillness. He lifts one hand. The dark almost silences him. "What?"

You let out a small laugh through your nose. You curl up into him, placing a hand on his chest in case he wants to communicate more--explain himself.

Your throat rumbles as you hum, trying to make out Asa's facial structure, wondering if your voice can get him to smile. But he's unresponsive for more and more seconds until, finally, he moves again; he takes your wrist and uses your hand to sign the word tired on his bicep.

Tension is subtle; it worsens when he turns his back towards you. You gasp and immediately climb over him like the clingy wife you are. You push him onto his back and straddle him.

Your head rings with apologies that you know will come bursting through. If he pushes you off, you won't even argue. In this position, you realize the moon's light hits you, and he can see what you sign to him: "Stop lying to me."

His eyebrows furrow slightly in surprise, and he stubbornly remains still. You have grown quite bold with him. He looks up at you as you glare down at him with your head tilted slightly. The look on your face makes him want to smile, but he needs some entertainment; what can irritate you for the next few minutes?

Both of your hands rest on his chest, and you feel the rough texture of his shirt, one you swore you ironed this morning.

Stubbornly, you remain quiet.

He finally decides to say something, his signs abrupt and aggressive. "I killed someone tonight."

Did you get any blood on the bed when you laid down?

You scowl. "I thought you killed someone every night. Don't take it out on me."

He is visibly unimpressed by your reaction to his confession. You cross your arms, body shuttering, when you realize he had rested his hands on either side of your thighs with only the tips of his fingers touching you. As soon as your body reacted with goosebumps, he lifted his hands again to respond.

"Are you not even a little bit shocked? Are you concerned?"

"Obviously, I'm concerned; this seems to be affecting you." When you sign, your entire body jolts with each sharp movement. "But again, don't take it out on me."

Asa continues to gaze back at you, his expression still not budging an inch. He holds a blinkless stare before responding. Though his signs are not as harsh, his face shows slight annoyance. "You're not concerned about the person I killed. You're more concerned about how it affects me."

You soften a lot, submissively. Yes. You look out the window in deep thought, signing, not focusing on whatever your hands decide to convey. Asa is insanely intrigued by your demeanor. He's remained in the same position throughout your fidgeting, with his eyes following your every movement.

He continues, "This time is different. The way that woman acted was complete defiance," he pauses, "She annoyed me."

"A woman?" You cross your arms, going on the defense. Even though Asa just mentioned killing the girl, you are clearly unimpressed just by the fact that he was talking about her at all.

Though your sudden defensiveness didn't bother him, it was enough to at least raise his eyebrow slightly and pique his curiosity. Your jealousy is amusing and endearing. He knows you understand your role as a wife. You had no reason to be jealous, as he had wholly devoted himself to you, so your jealousy couldn't possibly stem from a genuine concern. Your attitude was enough to make him try and sit up a little more. "Yes. A woman."

You remain quiet, not knowing how to respond. You are grateful to have finally cracked Asa's stiffness. He's charming and always flusters you with his body language.

His hands hesitantly touch your sides, taking his time, one by one, each pad of his fingers making contact with the skin of your thigh. Your spine straightens. He caresses your legs and trails his hands across your skin. Your breath hitches, feeling how cold his hands are. "Was it relieving when you killed that woman?"

At first, Asa doesn't answer your question. Instead, he caresses you. He's relenting and giving you the mood you want from him. You relax more and more under his touch.

He removes one hand, "Relieving?"

He removes the other to form a comprehensible sentence. "Of course, I felt some form of relief. That's the whole point of what I do."

"'That's the whole point of what I do.'" You mock him before going earnest again. "You don't usually talk about it like that, Asa."

How long have you been fighting the urge to act with this much conviction and attitude? Perhaps this resulted from your jealousy; your emotions were most definitely amusing, though. You are a real handful, and you're starting to make it more evident than before.

"I'm just being honest," he replies.

One of his hands returns to your leg, his thumb running against your skin in an attempt to soothe you. "Why do you ask?"

A car driving by lights up the room. You can see his face and how soft his beautiful brown eyes have gotten. His eyes don't match his signing at all.

You smile. "I just like hearing about it. I'm happy you killed her, even if you don't want me to say so."

He lets out a small chuckle as you lean forward and press a small kiss to his temple. You have grown quite bold in your jealousy. He doesn't mind this sudden side of you; it certainly excited him. "You like it when I talk about my actions?"

"It's thrilling," you bluntly admit. "You torture people, but you're so loving to me. What an amazing feeling."

The look on his face puts butterflies in your stomach. With soft nudges, he sits up in bed, letting you move to sit across from him. The moonlight is ideally on his face; he squints his eyes.

You can't help but put your forehead before you kiss him.

Knowing his violent tendencies and brutal actions were enough to excite his wife was the best feeling in the world. You think about his vows and how he had sworn to protect you; he was so powerful, and it made your heart pound and gave your stomach butterflies when he declared that to you.

"Why does torture and death thrill you so much?" His eyes glow with amusement.

"Have we not had this conversation before?" you sign before placing your hands on the bed, kissing his cheek, and sitting on your knees beside him. "I adore you and everything you are."

"I see. My violent thoughts and murderous tendencies are appealing..." He leans up and kisses the side of your face. His hand trails towards your neck. A giggle leaves you, and you lean away slightly, signing the word desire, the movement of your hands slow and flirtatious. He touches the skin of your neck, tracing each ridge of your trachea. You lift your chin and let his fingers examine you.

When he touches your pulse, he smiles and pulls away.

You touch your fingers to your pulse to see if your heart is genuinely going that fast.

With more restraint, he places both hands on your head and pulls you into a kiss. He goes backward, his back landing against the bed while your chest lays flat on his. Your hands instantly go on either side of him to prop yourself up; with his strong grip on your hair, you cannot pull away. His hip bones poke the inside of your thighs; no matter how much you shift, you can't escape the feeling.

One of your hands instinctively flies to his neck, where you press the back of your hand to his throat, feeling the deep grumble of his grunts. He snatches the hand and places it back on the bed. One of his hands goes under your shirt, dragging his fingertips across your skin, just missing the sensitive parts of you. Your skin lights up his heart and tightens his chest. It has always been clear that his love and lust for you would always be unconditional; he can't help but wonder how long he would be able to maintain his composure, knowing you longed for violence the same way he did.

His hands went past your ribcage and towards your hips; a line of goosebumps crossed your skin, and your back arched a bit from the feeling, almost ticklish.

His lips form a smile before trailing down the sides of your neck. He kisses, traveling across your skin to your collarbones, and stops there for only a few seconds. His breath is hot on your skin, and you can almost feel his lustful desires in the way his hands roam your body. Your mouth releases a small squeal, and you hold onto the back of his head, tilting your head away from him to give him more access. You were giving him more access to your neck so easily. 

Though he did give in eventually, he lightly kissed and nicked your neck, making you shiver slightly. When he finally gripped onto your hips, you wrapped your legs around his waist, giving no sign of resistance to him. The way your body feels against his is irresistible, and it takes every ounce of his will strength not to suddenly start gripping your thighs and hold you firmly down.

You didn't even know what you were begging for, but your legs tightened around him.

His breath is hot against your skin, and he groans, sending vibrations against you. With one hand propping himself up, he uses his other one to grab your fingers and place small kisses onto them. He could feel his body responding to the mere sound of your tiny squeals. His hands slip under your body and caress your thighs. The word soon is noticeable against you. Kisses and licks trail down your neck, your hands resting on his shoulders, sliding up to the back of his neck lovingly, a sensual touch, a shiver running down his skin. The way you touch him adds to your cute charm; he kisses you, hands wrap around your body, and touches are rougher and more possessive than before.

You grab his hand and put it between your legs; you bite onto his bottom lip, both confident and uneasy. He grunts, lips stinging from your teeth. You are making this a very tempting experience.

You grasp at his shirt and try to pill it up, signaling to him that you want him to take it off. His hand is teasingly stiff between your legs. He has it right where you put it, but he offers no further indulging.

Your voice cracks pathetically, "Baby."

He enjoys every second of this. He starts being gentle, resting his hand on your underwear and palming you in slight movements.

Beyond his composure, his breathing is heavy.

You pant desperately at the contact from his fingers; the sound is loud and primal, and your back arches.

Your hands move sporadically. "Tell me about how you kill them."

He doesn't remove the hand from your underwear when he responds. "I'm not telling you that, sweet girl."

"Please."

A million words are running through your mind. You must fight every itch to close your eyes; you don't want to miss anything Asa might say. His mind is focused on how plush your pussy lips feel underneath your underwear. He starts rubbing his knuckles against you, the sharp joints sending particular sparks.

"Eventually." One of his knuckles bluntly runs over your clit, and you jump from the contact.

"Please." When you sign, your mouth moans, practically shaking his body. Your toes curl as you try your best to maintain your composure, but your thighs start to spread wider. The way your hands start working at his belt makes him smile broadly. He watches you move with pure amusement.

You open his belt and take it out with a single pull, fingers shaky while you quickly attempt to undo his pants.

Asa is taken aback by your sudden movements, his smile only growing sadistically. He's impressed and so in love with you. He helps you unzip his pants, taking it all out in one motion. The way your hands shake is a sight that gets him even more riled up. You move and scoot up on the bed, angling yourself so your upper back can comfortably lean on the headboard.

Just you being this entranced by him makes him want you even more. His touch is getting more aggressive, passionate, and possessive, just as you craved it. The sound of you panting drives him crazy, the shuffling of you taking off your underwear for him.

"Come on, Asa," you desperately motion him close. "Show me that you love me."

He larks onto you. Your toes work at the band of his pants. The way you stare at him while he pushes his fingers into you is an incredible sight. He can't hold back when, in powerful eye contact, you stare at him while the most salacious sound leaves your hips. His body shakes with excitement, and his face looks lusty. Your mouth goes agape, and in embarrassment, you cover your mouth with your hand. He's being considerate by even continuing to finger you and not take you right this very second.

You reach down in a desperate attempt to pull his pants down. Your fingers are weak, and you always get so consumed by pleasure that you can't even think straight. Your husband has learned the best ways to touch you. It drives you crazy.

He removes his hand and signs, lowering his head to inch closer to you. "Is this how you plan on showing your submission and obedience to me? By squirming, growling, and whining like a dog?"

You stare at him with such lust and pleading in your eyes. Time slows as he takes in your expression, your submissiveness.

He jumps to the present when your legs wrap around his waist. You pull him down so fast that he has to press his hand on the headboard to hold himself up.

"Tell me," you come across as commanding now. "Tell me how you kill them."

You caught him entirely off guard. The suddenness of it all makes it even more alluring to him. How you look deep into his eyes pushes him to desire to fulfill your every wish.

"...I'm not telling you." He signs back, his face stern.

"Why?" You growl and tighten your legs around him. Your bodies rub against each other in a stimulating friction. You put an attempt to stop your trembling like you're not on the verge of begging him to fuck you.

"Because I'm in charge here, not you."

"No. Tell me."

Your hand goes down his body and grabs onto his dick, stimulating him and trying to coax him. Your body heats up at your own actions.

You're adamant about having your way. "Tell me," you repeat with one hand. "Tell me, I want to know."

If you continue this way, it'll make him want to pin you down and take you in the most aggressive way imaginable. He stares deep at your eyes and stares deep at your lips.

You smile, not giving up, your hand gripping him tighter, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Tell me about how you kill them," you hope that continuing to ask will make him relent out of annoyance. You decided that if he told you that, you'd guide him inside of you as a reward.

"I will not tell you a thing." He can't stand your insistence anymore.

"Why?" You stop stimulating him, and you remove your legs from his waist, falling onto the bed. He notices that your knees are still spread by his side, giving him room to take whatever he wants. It's both aggravating and frustrating. The fact that you're trying to play this dominance game doesn't sit well with him. He's been too lenient on you.

"...Because there's no need for you to know the details about how I do my killings. All you need to know is the results. Now, shut up and stop pestering me."

"But," you bite your lips with a groan. Your cheeks get warm, and you decide between apologizing and pleading. "It'll turn me on."

Your signs force him to lock eyes. Your expression of shame and embarrassment is very compelling. He smiles and eggs you on. Maybe he will give you what you want. "How?"

"You're handsome. Your hands are big and aggressive; I want to know what they can do." You sign with both hands in a restrained way. "I want you to fuck me as you tell me."

The words make him grin with desire and arrogance. 

"Beg me to continue. Beg me to tell you about the killings while you spread yourself open for me." 

"Please, sweetheart." You writhe at the sight of his demanding eyes. "Please tell me, please touch me, and tell me how violent you are and how much you terrorize people."

Your eyes are soft and pleading as you continue, "And pleasure me as you do so, I need you, and I want you to control me."

Your begging is something that never fails to drive him completely crazy.

His next sign is simple, his hands become very busy lifting your pelvis. "Fine."

The muscles of your thigh tense as you prepare yourself for him to finally fill you. You love how stern he's acting. You continue begging in hopes that he won't change his mind. "Make me cum, tell me how dangerous you are. I want to see the blood on your hands and hear about what you do to people."

He keeps his eyes on your hands. He verbally repeats your last sentence to himself under his breath. Astonishing, you are. He lets you press yourself closer to him to align him with you. Your hand flails the same sign; tell me.

It's amusing. Asa pauses, no longer continuing, just staring at you. How your two eyes meet feels like a mix of passion and danger. He smiles and hums to himself, moving his hands down to grip your ass. You try to reach down to press him into you, but he moves your hands away, shaking his head teasingly. He's hard and just over your dripping hole; his tip is making contact with your folds and how warm they feel. The wet sound that your labia has, his breath hitching, his hands squeezing onto you, makes him want to take you even more aggressively. He tilts his head, leaning back a bit. He smiles and lifts his hands back up. "...What kind of details do you want to know?"

"I want to know how it feels to torture someone. What do you do?" Your hands move a bit slower, hesitant. "What do you think about?"

He pushes only a bit of himself inside of you. Your upper body relaxes, the light in the room exposing everything about you.

It's poetic.

You bend your pelvis to push him inside a little further. His eyes darken. It's charming, and it reminds you how much you love him. You're surprised he hasn't killed you already.

He puts pressure on your body to keep you still, to keep you from squirming away from him. He forces himself to go completely inside of you. You gasp, grasping his shoulders. He can see and hear your arousal and your voice. The way your body is now tightening around him in a way that doesn't allow him to move in or out is something that makes him enjoy the position he'll have you in. The way your muscles clench onto him brings him to the point of almost losing control.

You once again rewind the conversation. At the mere memory of how this started, you start getting annoyed again about how stubborn Asa is. Your walls pulsate around him in desire, but you don't give in to it just yet, even though your heart is pounding and your head is spinning. You lean back. "Tell me about how you kill them."

"Very violent and gruesome, just how you like it. Do you want me to continue?"

"Continue." Your thighs lessen their grip while you grind your hips against him pathetically, trying to urge him to move once you realize he's not. You growl, desperate, childish.

He stares down at where your bodies connect before making direct eye contact.

"Okay, and what about their screaming and pleading? It makes you so wet." He signs while distracted by how turned on you're getting per each of his lazy strokes. He penetrates you a bit faster and then proceeds to go back to moving slowly. It's as if he can feel your wetness dripping down your body now, soaking his hairs. Your mouth keeps releasing pathetic moans. You hadn't thought about an answer to that question before and didn't have the mind to make any sense of it.

"I need to hear about how dangerous you are as you treat me like I'm an angel," you admit as you place your hands on his shoulders and dig your nails into him.

He begins to pick up the pace more and more, your legs squeezing around his waist to keep you in place while he signs quickly to you. "I'm the most dangerous man you know. I'm the devil. I'm a savage and a monster. I've tortured women to death, ripped their families to shreds, and killed children, all just for my enjoyment. I've destroyed homes, lives, and relationships. I've left a trail of destruction through this city, which I've left bloody and scared. Is that enough?"

"Yes," your hands drop, and your signs are hardly comprehensible. Your body reacts to Asa as if he's been fucking you for hours. "Yes, baby, oh my god." His sentences linger in your head, and you bask in them, repeating them in your mind.

You put one of your fingers between your lips and bite onto the knuckles. The look in your eyes is of satisfaction and intense pleasure. He's finally given you what you want, and you're almost about to cum because of it.

The sight of your lustful eyes and the sound of your moans sends ripples of power through him. He is the one who ultimately controls you, the one you worship.

You squeal when he puts a hand under your knee, stretching your leg closer to you. You can hardly look at him with how dazed his cock makes you, but you're begging for him to tell you he's a killer once again.

You can feel how wet the both of you are, and you bite your lip at the disgusting feeling.

And towards the end of the night, the part of sex where he grips your face with his nails digging into your cheekbones, he keeps fucking his cum into you, not stopping until you've finished as well. Your dry lips let out moans and indecipherable sounds. Your thighs are around him, and your walls are pulsating; your eyes remain shut, and his body trembles at the sound.

✦

He loves it when you sleep by his side, your hand on his chest as you nuzzle into his shoulder. He'll keep his arm around you even after you wake up. There's something beautiful about how you find such comfort in his warmth, as sometimes he considered it a fault. The warmth of his body was a constant reminder that he was human, the same species as all in his collection.

He watches the hands on the clock as they tick. At first, he intended to hope up regardless of whether you were comfortable, as his museum needed tending. But today, he gives you mercy, letting you sleep for a few more minutes. I'll give them five minutes, which became ten and then twenty. The grumpiness overtook him (as if it wasn't his own decision that caused this). He just couldn't find it in himself to wake you up.

#asa emory x reader #asa emory #x reader #x deaf reader #x deaf s/o #slasher community #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

[deafsignifcantother]

OH MY GOD EVERYBODY SHUT UP YOU KNOW THE “Veronica open the door” TREND/SOUND ON TIKTOK???????

VOOOOOOOX THAT IS SO VOX CODED PLEASE IM SCREAMING

[deafsignifcantother]

Well, at least they tried

[deafsignifcantother]

I made more

Original pictures

[deafsignifcantother]

Just leave it to me

[deafsignifcantother]

Vox probably grew up during the Great Depression

Like. Vox died in the 50s in(presumably) like, his 30s-40s right? That means the OLDEST he could've been at the start of the depression is 19(1950 - 40 = 1910, 1929 - 1910 = 19), and the youngest he could've been is like. 2 I think. We do not have an exact year of death for him like we do Angel and Alastor so I'm just guessing here but either way he's probably somewhere in that range. Vox likely grew up during the Great Depression. Idk I just think we should talk abt this more-

[deafsignifcantother]

stimboard for when Valentino flies into a giant bug zapper and fucking Dies

/ X X X /

There are no good videos for this but it’s a joke board anyways so . Lol

[deafsignifcantother]

I don’t know if this is just because of animation but I find it HILARIOUS that in Respectless, before Carmilla even came into frame, Velvette BACKED tf up 😭

She’s all bark and no bite, she talks all this shit but the MINUTE someone gets pissy with her in such a way, Velvette goes ‘oh shit’ and covers it up as if she wasn’t shocked af 💀😭

Probably another reason why Carmilla called Velvette and the other Vee’s ‘smug wannabes’

[deafsignifcantother]

Anyways Valentino is Trosia nigropunctigera dont @ me

[deafsignifcantother]

Are you Deaf / hoh? Just curious :)

yes! i love getting this question bc it's crazy to think there's a chance of me being hearing and still having this account LOL

#but yesss :D #deaf with a lowercase d babyyyyy

[deafsignifcantother]

I mean am I wrong??

[deafsignifcantother]

the v's reaction to someone taking your hearing aid

♥ summary: "what the Vees would do if they noticed their partially deaf s/o being picked on - like the other people would tear out their hearing aid(s) and break them and stuff" @aceduchessdragoness ♥ characters: velvette, vox, valentino ♥ notes: screaming and crying okay so i did val's spanish as spain spanish bc i think spain sign language would be better than narrowing his signs down to a specific latin american country but if the translation is cringe then tell me bc i'm literally using an lse dictionary

Vox

♥ word count: 1.9k ♥ notes: i use [Y/N] for the first time in my career ong, she/her pronouns used in third person, reader doesn't speak and only signs

It was never a mystery to you how Vox always knew where you were. Even without the watch on your wrist, you felt his eyes on you, the looming knowledge of persistent monitoring.

Not that it bothered you, of course. If anything, you were worried that he wanted to spend his time watching you instead of running his business. But whatever, it was flattering.

Whenever you went on your routine errands, you would smile at every television or security camera you encountered. On the big screens in Vox's room, he feels like the common softening of his heart. Your smile always seems so genuine. How can somebody like you adore him so much?

.

Blue light illuminates your living room. From the kitchen, you groan as you make your way to the television. Can he stop bothering you at this hour? All you wanted to do was get some damn water, but of course, as always, he's monitoring you.

Words pop up on the screen as you approach it. You rub your eyes, the brightness overwhelming. You reach for your coffee table.

GO TO SLEEP

With the sudden click of the remote, you smile as the screen goes black. One, two, three... it lights up again.

DON'T TRY

Again, the screen goes black. One... again, a bright blue illuminates you.

[Y/N]. The television shakes.

You snicker at him, finally sitting on the floor and putting the remove down. On the other side of that screen, Vox sits on his swivel chair, gazing up at you, your frame taking up multiple monitors. Your eyes look below where his point of view is.

"It's late," you sign, and the light makes your hands shine in the darkness. "Dim it a little."

He listens; his small act of consideration makes you melt. Your eyes soften immensely. Internally, he begs you to stop looking at him like that; it's embarrassing how good it makes him feel.

The television is still a blinding blue as you go from the living room to the bedroom; he follows you per any screen by your side. Worst of all, a flat-screen faces your bed, which was mandatory.

"Goodnight, Vox." You sign while putting your face up to the screen.

You turn this TV off, and to your delight, it stays off.

.

With a yawn, you stretch your morning aches away and lean your head against the table of your vanity. You get a few seconds of shut-eye before popping back up. Vox is watching; if he notices you're tired, he will try to be domestic and nap with you regardless of how much work you must do today. So you rub away your sleepy eyes and massage the tension in your jaw. Putting on your hearing aid is first on your daily to-do list; you'd like to hear if he pops up on your television and decides to update you on his morning. Sometimes, he gets so impatient. Next, while picking up your moisturizer, you try not to shiver at the coldness once it touches your fingers.

You wish yourself a good morning before rubbing it in.

At the same time of day, Vox was already up and doing his rounds, making sure his employees were getting work done. He gets antsy between when you wake up, and you get to the tower. Every morning once he sees you entering the elevator, he'll wait on the other side to welcome you in with a kiss to the forehead.

Vox checks his watch. It shows his favorite things: your vitals, location, and pretty little face whenever you dial him.

You've finally left your place, thank goodness. Pacing aimlessly has never looked good on him.

.

He stands by his window, looking down at the streets below, watching you approach. You're wearing your usual uniform, one that he picked out just for you; it consists of the same red and blue stripes he has on his everyday suit. It makes you an eyesore in the everyday crowd.

If you didn't know any better, you'd lift your head to see if you could spot him among the many stories. The building is beautiful, overpowering. The V tower's magnificent brightness outshines the rest of the V district. The constant noise of people always has you walking with your hearing aid turned as low as it can go without turning off.

With the pink light reflecting off your face, you look both ways before crossing the street, a bright smile on your face, stepping onto the asphalt before a hand grabs your wrist.

Vox furrows his brow at the sight.

You turn your head and see a friendly reporter and a cameraman, the camera not yet rolling. Your pupils flicker between them.

"Hello!" She smiles, removing her hand. With caution, you fully face her, stepping back onto the sidewalk. The 'professional' persona you've been forced to practice is finally coming to fruition.

"Hello! I'm Deaf; I don't think I'd be able to do an interview."

She flicks her hand and rolls her eyes in the most friendly way possible. "Not a problem," she signs, moving the microphone vibrantly, "I can work this out, no problem!"

You widen your eyes in a wowwwww, oh my god, that's perfect... "Oh, what a kind woman you are!"

Vox? You beg internally. Baby? Save me.

Up high, he doesn't remove his eyes from you. With the use of sign language, he can't listen in, and he can't tell whether he needs to intervene or not. There's nothing wrong with going to check, right? Or will he seem possessive, or scared? He doesn't want people to think he doesn't want you to talk to anyone. It's good that you get to sign to someone other than him and Velvette, right?

The camera starts rolling, and you square your shoulders, adjusting your sleeves for more mobility. The news reporter throws the microphone at the cameraman, who does not catch it but ignores it as she shows off her brightest smile.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I have the sweetest person in hell with me, [y/n]! Tell me, how long have you two been together?"

Of course, the news has been recognizing you recently. You've been seen countless times adjusting Vox's tie (he purposely fucks it up so that you'll step close to him) as well as wrapping your arm around his and pinching the corner of his screen endearingly before you give him a babying compliment. Many people have taken pictures and edited hearts around you two. People are obsessed with how "heavenly" your relationship is.

"Oh, many months now!" You nod to yourself, trying to stop your eyes from shining with admiration. You always get so soft when you think about him; it's one of the things people notice. She looks at him as if he's her entire world.

"Beautiful!" The reporter puffs out her bottom lip innocently. "I'm sure you make that man very happy."

What do you even say to that? I hope so.

"The happiest."

"Now," she doesn't hesitate to change the topic. "Are there any challenges you two face about your... differences?"

Your eyebrows raise before furrowing in confusion. Differences? At first, you think she means his television head, but when she notices you pause, she rudely clarifies. "I mean, with your lack of hearing, you know? Don't you find it a little embarrassing?"

You lean your body away from her. "What are you saying?"

The shock of the tonal shift has you freezing in place. The reporter looks at the camera, her eyes squinting with sadistic amusement. Her fingers twitch as she lifts her arm, not even looking at you before plucking the hearing aid from your ears. She crushes it in her hand.

At first, you grab your ear, pressing your hand to it in disbelief. Your face contorts, your shoulders dropping as you try to step away. Why couldn't you see this coming? And on television—is that where this is airing? The air around you goes quiet, the sensation of spatial awareness fading a bit as you stumble back, your hand still grasping your ear. The watch on your wrist hits your cheek, and without a second thought, you tap on the screen repeatedly. The next thing that popped into your head: her bravery is the most surprising.

With a brief fall of light, Vox stands where the lady once was. You eye him with uncertainty, a look you have never given him. He faces the cameraman, not looking your way. Your eyes go up and down his body; his stance is tense, his arms are folded behind his back, and his fingers sparking with small glimmers of electricity.

You see that lying behind him is the woman, body entirely limp, smoke coming from her mouth, and her eyes looking stuck open.

He speaks to the camera, pointing his finger at it, staring intensely into the shaking, blinking red light. Your hands link around his bicep. Composure, you remind yourself. You turn to the camera with a weary smile and lean your head against him.

.

"That'll never happen again." He stares at himself in the mirror. His dressers and tables are filled with claw marks from his previous meltdowns.

You just sit on his bed, crossing your legs uncomfortably, watching him as he goes back and forth between signing to you and mumbling to himself. You haven't said a word. You just keep your eyes on him.

He protected you in the way he knew best. He wanted nothing more than to put his hands on the sides of her head and crush her skull. It would stain his suit, awful. Even worse, your suit would have been ruined, too.

Should he force you to move into the tower? He's always wanted to. The commute would be no more, and you'd be safe from the outside.

Should he prevent you from leaving at all without him? No, that might be too much, but his entire body craves to keep you secure and protected.

He won't ask you what you want. He knows there's a chance you would just coddle him and tell him it's okay. There's no reality where he will do nothing; he must devise his own plan. But first (actually, secondly, after getting his anger out on his furniture), he wants to make sure his sweetheart is okay.

Once he calmed down and sat next to you, rubbing your thigh, he watched as you scrolled through social media, looking at the hundreds of people laughing and reposting the event. He shuts off your phone, grabs it, and tosses it across the room. You roll your eyes helplessly before he lifts his hands and signs to you.

"I will track everyone down and punish them severely, baby. No one will ever touch you again, or else they will the next flashing headline."

"I know, baby," you wrap your arms around his chest and lean into him, rubbing your cheek against the smoothness of his overcoat.

You hum against him, finding it in yourself to smile softly. Protector, protector, protector. You run those words through your head; they're comforting to their own extent. Suppose he ends up locking you inside the tower. In that case, it's better than him leaving you entirely over this (which, obviously, he'd never actually do). Spending every morning and night with him wouldn't be wrong. Everything happens for a reason.

He leans back onto the bed, his feet dangling off as you curl into his side.

Before resting completely, you use a hand to sign into his chest. "Everything will be fine."

Your coddling, though annoying, provides the most relaxing warmth to his body. He groans, wrapping an arm lazily around you, feeling the usual butterflies in his stomach as you press a small kiss to his collarbone.

.

.

.

Velvette

♥ word count: 1.6k ♥ notes: reader speaks ♥ a/n: i completely headcanon that velvette took an asl class in highschool when she was alive, i have no idea how velvette usually acts in fanfiction so this is MY velvette now

Velvette found you, such a pretty thing, in your little corner of the internet, making content for your little community. That little corner of yours is where you told the news and interpreted a lot of banter from the overlords. Your channel was the perfect mix of education and drama, all for the Deaf community in Hell.

You were, as Velvette described, a tea channel.

She invited you to the V tower to show you around. The three V's introduced themselves to you in their own way, offering you a job. The bossman, ever so gentlemanly and charming, didn't let Valentino try and make sex motions to you for longer than necessary. And before Velvette forced Vox to scurry off, she forced him to snap a few pics of you posing with her as a faux collab.

You weren't stupid. You knew Velvette only wanted your attention to spread whatever brand she endeavored to popularize. But this might be a golden opportunity. You'd learn the behind-the-scenes from three different overlords, and the content you can produce will gather insane traction.

.

Velvette is just so sweet; the way she showed her care for you was just through gift-giving.

She loved putting together gift boxes for you, similar to the sorority kind. The boxes went from cute little baskets to a cardboard box resembling a PR send. These would always be set on your desk with a bit of note from her, each time she'd signed off her name with a heart.

Jackets, shoes, candies, jewelry, pens, everything. The gifts are versatile with familiar themes of hearts. Every day was like Valentine's Day when she was 'courting' you (did she even realize she was?).

She made you bags: totes, crossbody bags, clutches, phone pouches, coin purses, anything she thought you would need with an array of colors to match any outfit. She put in hair clips and pocket mirrors, cozy slippers and fancy journals.

She even got you two matching bracelets.

You love the smirk she wears whenever she notices you adorning anything she's given to you. Damn right, she thinks, I knew it would look good.

The most enormous box she'd ever given you was the day before one of her fashion shows. Inside were glorious clothes from her collection, all for you to pick out and wear. She really loved her stripes.

You put your hearing aid on, smiling at yourself in the mirror as you watch the charm she made you glisten in the light. With your bracelet ornamenting your wrist, you pat down your stripped outfit before taking a deep breath.

.

Your entrance reeks of reluctance. The temptation to retreat back to your room is unbearable. Seeing Velvette will definitely lift your mood; where is she? Surely, she'd be the highlight of the room, but amongst all the women with their eccentric colors and clothing shapes, you can't find your eye drawing to her anywhere.

The sounds of the party blend together in a nasty concoction; you can't help but turn your hearing aids off. The sound is similar to what it's like being outside in a heavy storm; the wind, the pouring rain, the blur and whine of the hearing aids. And instead of lingering by the double doors, you push into the crowd. You're the least recognizable in the crowd of celebrities, but it doesn't stop people from moving out of the way when you try to wiggle through. You're wearing stripes, her stripes. You're either bold or very special to her; they don't want to intervene.

But your stripes also get some people to stare at you longer than they would have otherwise. Across the room, in front of you, you notice a tall, almost shirtless model coming your way, directly staring at you. You break the quick eye contact before squeezing through a cluster of girls taking selfies. They won't let you through, grimacing but not laying any hands on you. When you turn to go the other way, the man is behind you, holding out his hand, waiting for you to put your hand in his.

You click on your hearing aid and scroll up. "What did you say?" You ask verbally, clearing your throat a bit.

His eyes bounce from yours to your hand, looking at what you're touching. His head tilts in interest. You don't like the sight of his smile.

"Oh wow." He says.

Immediately, "Yeah, no," Velvette puts her hands on your shoulders and tries to push you away. "I swear, don't even look at him, he's fucking insane."

He speaks over her, but you can't process his words over how close Velvette's lips are to your ear. Her warm breath sends goosebumps down your arms, and your spine straightens. This only makes her hum in amusement.

After turning and growling at him, she effortlessly maneuvers you away. Eyes watch you even closer now as she touches you. You let her guide you throughout the room with not a clue as to where she's leading you, if anywhere. But eventually, you two end up in front of a mirror the size of a wall.

She stares at you through the mirror. "Look at you," she signs, "extravagant as ever, darling."

"Thanks to you."

"Obviously." And she bumps her hip into yours. You laugh, mimicking the motion back.

You had ditched your initial motive of getting close to the V's to gain more information about them. They were fine people to hang out with, making you laugh and feel involved. Velvette gave you special attention that nobody in your afterlife has ever given. Her lipstick left stains on your cheek whenever she kissed you, and she made an 'appointment' in her schedule once a week to paint your nails the same black color as hers.

The afternoon went by quickly; you spent time clapping and watching models show off their garb. Velvette is a true talent.

But something ruined your evening. The air hummed with laughter and the rhythmic beat of music. Velvette had been whisked away by the other V's to overlook the crowd and count the people who had attended. Among the colorful crowd stood a familiar figure whose eyes sparkled with mischief. Different from last time, you don't notice when he starts to approach again.

"You," he coos, placing his hand under your chin. You must stare at his lips to comprehend his words over the music, an awful innuendo you wish you could have avoided. He leaned in closer to you, and in return, you leaned back. Valentino had told you a bunch of times to not worry if someone puts their hands on you, that it's a typical formality in Hell. You would always roll your eyes at him, never expecting a stranger to grab you like this.

You were mentally preparing yourself to dodge a kiss. But then, daringly, he leaned in and gently plucked the hearing aid from behind your ear, holding it aloft like a trophy. Fear flickered across your face, your hand instinctively reaching for it, but he pulled it away. The charm Velvette gave you dangles like a jewel.

"Don't," you say with desperation. He puts a finger in front of your face and waves it back and forth. He coos, using that hand to grab your face as if you were the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

Your eyes are locked on the charm, and it's brash jolts. You almost beg for him to just give you the charm back.

In the middle of a conversation with Vox, Velvette raises an eyebrow; shocked and pissed, she glared at whoever had torn off your hearing aid. She mumbles, "I'd tear their hearing aid off and break it."

Before she can move closer to you, Vox puts his hand in front of her while watching the interaction. "Think before acting, Velvette."

Her frustration turns into anger as she pushes his hand away. He lets her run off; he holds a hard stare as her pink hair bobs through the crowd.

Your eyes are stuck wide with shock, and a million things run through your head, all relating to the appropriate situational response.

True to your casual self, you were having a hard time not just jamming your hand in his eyes and kicking his shins. Would you make Velvette mad? Vox?--Would that result in you being removed from the V Tower? It's all so complicated. Though you were panicking over a 'quick' decision, you and the man stayed in that position for a few seconds. He stayed laughing, dropping the hearing aid and stomping on it.

At almost the same time, Velvette threw a glass from someone's hand at the man, perfectly aimed, hitting him in the face. She lets out a small "nice!" before rushing to you.

Her hand runs down your face, and she holds you tenderly, not turning to face Vox as he puts himself between her and the man. Your eyes bounce around the entire room. Will you ever get a break from being at the center of attention?

"We're leaving. Now." she signs in a single motion so quick that it makes you smile, relieving some of the stress that's been making your head pound. She's able to sign so naturally now.

The crowd splits into two.

Behind the both of you, Vox is declaring an end to the event, apologizing to the people for the inconvenience. Velvette keeps muttering about him under her breath; you can see her lips moving and her face grimacing.

.

She has beads in front of her, a bunch of small charms with string. She signs, looking up at you. "I should have killed him."

You just watch her craft another charm, laying on her bed and kicking your feet. "That would have been funny."

She scoffs and smiles, her painted lips turning upwards. Her fingers trace over the beads, deciding which one to pick up. She wants to make it different than the last one, but what should it look like? She picks up a pink heart with a slight hum before sliding it down onto the string. She whispers to herself, perfect.

.

.

.

Valentino

♥ word count: 1.7k ♥ note: reader is a vodka drinker, i'm obsessed with writing a loving valentino, reader doesn't talk very much and prefers sign, sexually suggestive things happening but it's not nsfw, kinda written like ass

Every time you step into the studio, you're hit by the smell of sex, mostly the sweetened stench of that strawberry lube he loves so much. Visiting his work is not usually something you do often, but he's seem to be so busy lately that you can't help but bring him a drink, the most beautiful drink in hell: vanilla vodka. You can already see him licking him lips.

Strawberry lube, so prominent in your nose.

His legs are crossed and he stares at the scene in front of him, his sunglasses hiding whatever his emotions are, but his lips are still in a prominent scowl.

Though, when he sees you, his expression changes drastically. He stands with so much excitement that the actors stop to see what he's reacting to. All eyes are on you, you shy away from the attention a bit but Val doesn't seem to notice, else care.

"Amor mío!" One of his hands signs, running down his cheek while his bottom two motions for a hug.

Before you can initiate a hug, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into his chest, trapping your arms in. He's warm, vibrantly so, it's hard not to melt against him. You couldn't be surprised if you let out a small moan at the contact. Oh, how I've missed you so much.

He pulls away quicker than you'd like and takes the bottle from your hand, holding it up close to his face so he can examine it. "Burnett's, oh you shouldn't have!"

He hesitates, torn between his responsibilities and the irresistible allure of having a drink with the person he was enamored with. He's not so easy to whisk away from work, therefore (of course), you seem to be the only person who he is at every beck and call.

You smile softly, "I knew you'd like it."

With a laugh, he takes your hand and spins you, his free hands popping open the bottle, ready to embark on whatever journey you had in store.

He turns and addresses his employees, granting them a small break before turning to you with his sharp smile.

And together, you slip away from the set, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of the studio for a simple moment of peace and luxury. Walls blazed with hues of pink and blue, you both find yourselves nestled on the fluffy couch in a lounge, a wineglass in your hand while he chugs from the bottle.

"You've been so busy." You sign. You switch the wineglass into your non dominant hand to avoid spilling any of the contents. Val holds the bottle with his bottom set of hands while signing with his top ones (he was originally going to do it the other way around).

“I know, princesa,” one of his hands comes up and squeezes your cheek. “Business calls, I cannot help myself.”

“Which is why I came to visit.” 

The two of you clink glass upon glass before taking a drink. He’s trying not to finish the drink before you, he’s making sure to take his time. He doesn’t want you to leave as much as he doesn’t want to rush the break. His eyes go over your entire form and take you in, there feels like an eternity since he saw you last. Why do you have so much patience for someone like him? It’s astonishing. Surely someone as beautiful as you could find someone sweeter than her. But he’s grateful to have you, he’s mildly addicted to that internal battle of whether he wants to cherish you or own you (perhaps he can do both? Something he’s never done before). 

“What?” You ask.

“Hm?” His fingers pinch together in the casual way of signing.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I can’t resist.”

“What were you thinking about?” You sign and lean forward, giving him bright eyes. Your gaze swallows him, moth to a flame. 

He matches your body language, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, amor mío.”

When he tries to grab your hand, you pull away. “You're acting as if you're wine drunk.” You sign. You have a sappy smile as you put your glass to your lips. 

“Never,” he wiggles his fingers as he signs. You eye him carefully, debating asking if he's kept his favorite gun on him. There's nothing worse than a drunk Valentino.

After the wine break, he has to go back to work. He feels himself getting irritated as he walks back, why can't he just continue spending the day with you? Is it worth sending everybody home? No, he has a job to do, and he needs to complete it before relaxation. But maybe he'll consider taking breaks (his least favorite word) to spend time with you.

You follow, both of your hands holding his, clinging onto him like a child.

Everybody was still in the studio, waiting for his return, not daring to leave in fear of him coming back. Actors were talking to each other casually, away from the camera, it built a strange sense of community for you. They're so nice to each other off-camera.

He drags you to his chair still holding your hand as he sits in it.

Drinking with you had been a much-needed respite from these people. He made a mental note to gift you more wine.

You remove your hands from his and smile. “Get back to work, baby.” 

Pearly white, sharp teeth show through his large smile. He presses his lips against each of your knuckles while his eyes skin over all of his actors, counting them. He makes eye contact with one particular one, a woman. They stare at each other for more than a second. She's scowling at him and he squints his eyes at her. The fuck is your problem?

She usually looks at him with sultry looks, but now there's a sharpness to them.

But his eyes peel away from her and go back to you, he leans forward and presses a slow kiss to your forehead. He signs low, almost as if he's whispering a secret. "I'll come see you after."

You smile and start turning away. "Good."

Upon noticing your departure, the actors and crew start returning to their places, keeping an eye on Valentino and any commands he might make. Their eyes are always on him, worried to test his anger. But not all the actors were worried about testing his anger.

"Hey," an actress grabs your hand before you could reach the door and you turn to her. She talks, her voice making your hearing aids buzz, "Are you guys like, dating? Are you dating the Valentino? Like, literally one of the V's."

Her words all bunch into one. You blink, taking time to think about both what she could be asking and the connotation behind it. "Yes?" It sounds more like a question than an answer. Is that the correct response?

She hums and nods, her eyes wide in amazement. Her pupils are large. Her cheeks are hollow and she has strong eyebags. With a distant sound from Val, him talking to the crew, she looks back at him before turning to you. "I mean like, why? Why would he want you?"

Oh no. You try to move away but she just follows you, stepping in front of you closer. It's like being cornered, being trapped in an almost unavoidable situation.

"Why wouldn't he?" You test with a squint of your eyes.

She just smiles at you. "Uhm," and her arm reaches over, grabbing the hearing aid from your ear, pinching it between her claws, "Obviously this."

You reach for it but she pulls it away from you, trying not to laugh.

So you do what you know is the best solution, you call his name, practically screaming it. "Val!"

At the sound of you using your voice he whips his head around. The air goes still, you can tell from the way she pauses. Her pause is only for a second, she reeks of hesitance and sudden worry. She looks at the hearing aid in her hand as if she's finally realizing what she had done and what was about to happen.

Before she can say another word, her entire body stiffs, her eyes widen before her pupils roll back. And then she's on the floor, almost falling onto you.

You wipe blood from your cheek and groan.

Val stares at you, his expression unreadable. In his hand is his jeweled gun. He pauses for a moment to take a long drag of his cigarette, letting out a cloud of red smoke before he looks at his gun with a toothy smile until he tucks it back into his belt.

He starts to approach you and for a second you're scared, it was a primal feeling. He walked like a king.

All you can do is watch him, frozen in place.

The first thing he does when he reaches you is bend in front of her body, plucking the hearing aid from her hand. It's bloody, the liquid drips from it as he lifts it up. He wipes some of it off on his shirt before handing it to you. He drops it into your open hands.

He speaks, knowing you'd have a hard time understanding. "Laying her slutty hands on my angel..."

You lean into his touch when he caresses your face. His eyes gaze at you, softening, his smile widening at how soft your eyes look. You're his greatest treasure. He gets off immensely from protecting you, he would ravish you to death in this moment if he could. Valentinos eyes drift down at the body and his pupils narrows as he glares at the dead woman. He's going to have to clean this up. Her blood is getting every where.

One of his thumbs rub against your cheek, touching the bloody smear. It stains your skin in a delectable way. So perfect.

He melts when he sees your soft eyes slowly start to match the mischievous smile growing on your face. He protected you and he was open about being dithered over her behavior, he didn't laugh at it or tease you about it. You don't doubt for an instant that he's the man of your dreams. He killed someone for you in an instant.

When you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking the blood, his spine straightens. He pulls away immediately and turns around, yelling at the his workers that filming will be cut short today.

He just can't wait any longer to spend some lovely time with you.

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