#ikevam theo x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

janumun · 3 years

Text

Afbranden Chapter 13: A Future (With You) [Last Chapter]

Pairing: Theo/Female Reader, [past] Arthur/Female Reader Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: Approx. 3100

Warning Tags: infidelity, explicit sexual content, hurt and comfort, eventual second relationship, Arthur main story spoilers, sad with a happy ending, vaginal fingering, oral and vaginal sex

Summary: Slow fractures creep across what you considered a happy, loving relationship; the inevitable break bleeding into your and Arthur’s lives, sure and sinister until it’s finally too much. The woman Theo holds untoward affections for finds herself lost and he… he is unable to stay and watch from the shadows as he has, all this time.

Go to Chapters: 1-10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (End)

Tagging: @tell-that-to-my-feather, @shookspearewrites, @iotona, @crystal13unny, @ikevamp-shrine-2, @otomebebe

9 months later

[A cottage in the countryside of Brabant]

Her hair’s grown much in length within the past several months, Theo observes, as she seats herself by the vanity to undo the braids the children she’s taken to teaching — during their time away from France — wove through for her. Perhaps she doesn’t care to cut it because of how it amuses her tiny pupils, to ‘dress’ her up during their breaks in between lessons. He’d once teased her about it; how his little puppy seemed to have adopted a litter of her own, to which she’d responded with a raised brow, a lopsided smile and a very sensual: Like this beautiful man I’ve got on my hands, one so very smitten with me?

She’d winked then before drifting straight out of his grasp. Leading him into a dance; she’d wished to get caught, she breathed against his lips, once he did. Nipping her moans along with the gentle brush of teeth, testing at her lower lip before he kissed her full.

It seems foolish, almost a time long past, to remember how he'd proposed they temporarily move back to his homeland while the Comte sorted matters in Paris. To have dealt with that frisson of fear, of her rejection, if she turned him down. If she didn't want him by his side, anymore... but she hadn't. She'd smiled, so joyous, and kissed him before she uttered her assent in a laugh she pressed against his cheek.

Now, fond of the place as she’s grown, she insists on being entirely foolish, thanking him for bringing her along to where he’d spent most of his childhood. Declaring they simply must visit his home once more sometime within the next year. His heart she’d taken for her own as if once more with the way she’d eased herself enough to speak of a future, with him. It was a foreign experience; to hear of another’s dreams no matter how minuscule they seemed and plot his path against hers, aligning themselves.

“I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again. Aren’t you, Theo? Although I wish le Comte hadn’t arranged return tickets for us.”

“Vincent’s letter mentioned they’re well. He also mentioned how none of them can wait to see you again.” He flashes her a knowing smirk. She laughs.

“I’m sure they’ve missed you too, especially Vincent. I can’t wait to see his reaction when he receives our gift.”

The entire day they’d spent within the nearest town, picking souvenirs for the mansion residents she’d stressed on buying. None of her hard-earned money she planned to keep for herself, for they’d find ‘better use’ in their gifts to their friends.

The sound of King’s eager bark gathers his gaze toward where his fur friend paws at her for attention she more than generously provides. Theo can’t help the grin that pulls at his mouth to witness the exchange. “My hondje seems far too fond of King than she does of her own master.”

She hums in thought at the assessment. “Perhaps… the master’s been rather out and about to give proper care to one he insists is his favorite partner. If you’re not careful, she might just make better friends with King.” His little traitorous friend seems content to bark his agreement before trotting out of the room in high spirits.

Theo snorts at the absurd notion; moving to haul himself off the bed and steal towards her. Heaving his scarf aside, he tosses it onto a nearby chair, stepping behind her. Sharp gaze fixated upon hers within the mirror. He reaches a hand out to ease her free hair over to one shoulder, dragging his palm, slow, across the exposed flesh. She, predictably, shivers; it sets the blood raging tighter within his veins. “Oh? Are you trying to fish for attention?”

She tips a hooded gaze over her shoulder, pink tongue darting to slick a quick path against her lip. Theo's own digits twitch upon her in response. A slow, torturous drag of her chemise off her shoulder.

A smooth delicate finger she moves to tap against her parted lips, “You seem well-aware so why don’t you do something about…” Carding fingers tight through her hair to angle her face upwards, he dips, letting his mouth slip against hers. One brush turning into another. Several kisses: soft, biting, chaste... then wet. Her hands are within his hair, jolting him closer; her hums pleased and delighted, breathless. It pilfers the air from his own lungs to hear the sound of her happiness.

As if he could — no he would — never tire of feeling her skin against his own. His heart, his body and desires ache and beg to flee in her direction every single time he moves to touch her. Each one: burning and singeing his soul like the very first time he'd put his hands on her. Consuming him bit by bit, with each single sound, each important gaze that seeks to find his in her love and lust and begs for him. An insatiable greed for this one woman; the bottom of a well he doesn't see in sight.

She bites down at his lower lip, her voice spills on a needy Theo, more. His entire rationale is bitter ashes in the wake of this one woman, at her mercy and he wants her — wants her as ruined as she has him, the devil within soughs in possession.

Hauling her off of the vanity’s chair and into his arms the second she tries and tests his patience; desperate lips moving against each other. Theo moves to sink his own bite into the plush of her lip — well-earned — her hold around his neck spasms at the stimulation.

Before she taps at him to be let down, impelling his body soon after onto the settee behind. Clambering on top of him, she cements an eager knee on either side of Theo’s thigh. Sinking down upon firm muscle, bunching the fabric of her gown, to expose her own. The warmth of her, damp beneath panties as she gyrates her hips against him. “Greedy,” he muses, his smile wide, — as if he is anything but — fingers threading secure through her hair before he tugs her mouth back against his, sweeping the taste of her onto his tongue.

Her restless digits rush down the line of buttons on his shirt as she moans against him; Theo hauls her tight into himself, catching up her wrists within a fist he pins to her breasts. She makes a sound of protest so needy, it tows a dark burst of laughter from his chest. Meeting her gaze, he holds it firm, flexing fingers in one warning squeeze, so she knows, “Not before I do, snoepje.”

Rebuked once, he tips his mouth back towards her jaw, her neck; dragging gossamer skin in between the bite of gentle teeth. The scrape of fangs he lets settle on her, she feels in each single searing kiss. His name’s a low, desperate prayer across her lips, nails digging into his fist demanding he kiss her. And he goes, to silence those garbling sounds of hers, sealing his mouth against hers till she jerks forward within his grasp. “Theo… Theo, I need you.”

The way each word seeps in desperation, a different kind; the bite of fingernails into flesh each time she moves to tug him closer…

Tongue testing one last sweep against her wet lips, he draws back to capture her gaze — warm in affection and lust so consuming, he feels his own arousal, uncomfortable, beneath the tight placket of trousers.

He’d held her close; he’d kissed and pleasured; drunk from her numerous times they’d lost count along with the sounds he’d pilfered right from her throat…. short of making love to her. Theo had no intention of drawing her into his bed, in that manner, any time soon, not if she wasn’t ready. He was a patient man, used to the test of endurance, but the way she looked upon him, as if her own breathless heaves were blanketed only through his body against hers, he had to halt and listen.

Shaping a palm against her cheek — she’s incredibly warm, he wants his mouth back on her soon — he asks, “Are you sure?”

Her answer is a sweet, gasping sound; a nod and the imprint of her lips as she tips her head, into the palm he holds against her cheek. “...More than I’ve ever been in my life. I want to take you… entirely.”

Theo's heart very nearly gives with how she coaxes his undoing, effortless, disastrous thing; how her affections — and comfort within their love — sifts through to the surface in a smile so vivid, he very nearly releases hold upon hard-bunched control within but this — her assent to be his, all of her…

“That’s a good response, hondje.” Mouth pulling apart on a grin, Theo teases a thumb against her own flushed smile as if he wishes to make sure it is true. Sweeps her back against him, forearms folding beneath and buckling the plush of her thighs as he lifts her. Theo basks in the taste of her high squeal of delight as it presses into his mouth before tossing her onto the sheets. “Don’t expect any mercy, hondje. Tonight, I’m not letting go even if you beg me to.” He can’t drag his shirt, fast enough, off of his back before discarding it, brusque, to the floor.

A happy, dazed smile framed by the glow of her cheeks; locks scattered as if floret vines across his pillows: she’s nothing short of exquisite art herself. He bites back the words before they tumble free off a traitorous tongue.

“I have a greedy lover on my hands, Theodorus van Gogh.” She quips his words right back at him.

Palms sinking into the mattress on either side of her body, he offers her a grin of his own. “Never denied it, hondje.” His hands are upon her, bunching the fabric of her nightgown in a drag up against her body. Tossing crumpled fabric and her bra off the side. Until she is entirely his to admire and touch; his breaths punched into a deliberate inhale to curve the path of her exposed collarbones, the swell of her breasts — the softest of grazes of fingernails across the tip has them puckering hard beneath a shuddering gasp.

If he’d been told she’d be here within his arms, that she’d be far more devastating — beautiful — beneath tracing fingertips, more so than he’d ever envisioned within vivid dreams; Theo might’ve laughed at the very notion of such folly. Dreams had always been just so; beautiful swathes of visions he’d been chasing after, since his humans years, stubborn as he was and now, not dead, as a creature of the night. That she chooses to relinquish herself to him of her own will, as if choosing to fulfil his dreams... He’s in love with this woman. It’s hard to think of any other state of being when she is beneath him like this: open affection across that crooked smile.

Theo breathes her in; a fortifying breath. Fingers following trail of a hungering mouth upon her, he hooks her legs apart, pressing into the space in between. A low gasp of discontent and desire breaks the air, “Theo—”

“Hands where I can see them,” he directs, harshly. Dark, sapphire gaze meeting hers — flushed — in between her legs, he tucks her panties to the side. And halts: the sight of wet folds, glistening with her arousal, flushed, erotic, his cock throbs at the sight and scent of her, it nearly drives him insane.

Eyes flickering her way, he quirks a brow — eyes on me — before he drags a broad swipe of tongue against her folds. Her jaw falls open, head thrown back onto a startled moan, shattering onto a hitched squeal as he hauls her closer. “This… is in the way,” he mutters, bunching her underwear to tear apart. “Don’t you dare look away.” The warning’s a low, rattling sound of lust, Theo tracks a harsh bite into the soft of her thigh to affirm that threat in place. She listens, trembling gaze returning to watch, a fist she presses into her mouth to bite, smothering her moans.

The entirety of her being as if made to hound and steal his senses. He withdraws his attentions back to how her pussy weeps; his own arousal tightens and burns with the urge for release. Moving forward to bury his face into her, his tongue steals a quick, angled path across her — she shivers but otherwise, remains obedient.

Good girl: he chuckles. Secretes his praise into her slit, Theo kisses and sucks a path across her. Nosing at her clit as he moves to curve his tongue into her. Her hips jump along with the groan that claws free of his body at her drenching his mouth, her taste, liquid addiction. His fangs, scrape against her and she moans a distant, broken sound. High, pitching higher, he moves to push two fingers into her depths. Her body immediately clamping onto the sensation with an obscene squelch.

Theo moves to wrench himself away from the intoxication of her body, pressing an open-mouthed smirk onto her mound. She’s whining as if a broken, wrecked thing; eyes clouding over and begging for release, the sight shoots straight to his groin. Adding a finger to the mess of her, scissoring into her walls; withdrawing slow before he thrusts in deep. Curving tapered digits up into her spasming walls to rub at that one specific spot he finds makes her clamp hard, scream loud.

Her breaths are labored, breaking apart the syllables of his name into three wonderful, fucked-out garbles — she could sound much more ruined, he knows she will — until she makes of his name, a senseless Th-eee-o. He relishes it, traipsing open mouthed kisses across her heaving belly, a twisted sound of laughter leaves the confines of his chest at her next scream. “You’re slurring your words, lekker ding. Don’t think I can decipher your whining like that.”

Her eyes are as round, as the formation of her mouth into an O as if she means to retort… before he breaks her for himself. Trapping his fingers as he hooks them into her depths, grinding against her spot, her voice flees entirely. Soundless cries and tears, her incessant shaking the only response of her body to her orgasm.

Trembling fingers reach to frame his face, weave through his hair before she heaves him onto her mouth, pressing heated breaths against his tongue and he lets her — for a few moments of reprieve. Extracting himself out of her — she whines into his mouth — before he draws away, smearing the tips of slick digits against her lips. Painting her glistening for himself before he sweeps in to sample.

She tastes just as — better. Divine, his mind whispers — than what he’d conjured within fever dreams; her body’s pliant beneath his touch and she is his, a primal part within snaps, rejoices.

Her fingers clutch into fists across his chest before she knocks him back gently; Theo lets her glide along with his own descent onto his back as she moves to trap him in between her legs. Unbuttoning his pants before those coveting digits reach into and palm at his cock; his palms convulse across the flare of her hips as she raises herself. Positioning his cock in between her thighs, gaze skewing to meet his.

“Sit on me— Godver!” He clenches out in between grinding teeth, fingers trailing across the slope of her ass to settle upon the small of her back to push. And she goes, thankfully, down. Theo’s unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of her nether flesh parting around him, drenched, tight, a feral growl singes free of his throat along with her choked whimper.

The erratic movement of her breasts along with her urgent thrusts upon him, streels his gaze and fingers, rolling the dark tips of them until she breaks onto a pleading whisper. Scraping fingernails across his scalp when he pitches his mouth across her nipple, sweeping a broad lap against the hardened peak. Squeezing at the soft flesh, a palm he forces down against her spine to guide when the symphony of her rhythm falters. Theo’s almost addicted to the sound of her voice around the syllables of his name, making and breaking apart. “T-That! This feels… i-insane!” she gasps.

“Insane? So it feels good then.” The smirk he feels pulling around the release of her peak to nip in between her breasts. She yelps, the torturous, wet squeeze of her pussy around his length dragging his own grunt.

“S-So…” She breathes, shatters, head tipping back in pleasure but he’s there, gathering a palm at the back of her head to pull her gaze towards him. Keeping her from withdrawing too far. She tries and frowns, around her breathless sounds — fails — before attempting words. “So… very aware and — ah — modest t-too.”

Her palm caressing across a firm pectoral before she finds her own target and pinches at his nipple in between middle and index — the pleasure that jolts through him at her audacity blooms white-hot just as her stuttering phrases, coiling into his groin.

“Buckle up, hondje.” He grins, fierce, riled; tongue sweeping a path against glistening teeth as he folds his hands beneath the give of her ass, lifting — she whines her protest — and tosses her back towards the pillows. Sweeping just as soon after, inhuman brisk reflexes sanding in, he fists a hand beneath the back of her head before it meets the headboard. Fixating a firm grasp across her arm, knees knocking her thighs apart to hold her down hard. Theo snaps his hips forward, entering her on a swift thrust, she screams to her God on her next, fractured breath.

“Your words are pleasant to hear, snoepje. Make me want to prod at you.” Letting her head roll onto the down of their pillows as she sobs out broken, beautiful sounds, he feels his own release rising imminent within his groin. “But you sound sexier when you can’t form them, let alone gather sane thoughts.”

Looming over; every single propulsion brushes against her clit and she’s pretty and ruined beyond measure as she unfurls her arms towards him. Securing his head within the crook of her shoulder, as if she’d never let go. Theo breathes his final warning, hot against her neck, “Sing louder, mijn liefje.” Tongue sweeping a desperate, wet path against her skin before he plunges aching fangs into her, just as her walls flutter and drench in a tight hold around — she listens, obedient, and screams her release.

The light streaming in is merciless against his closed lids and her fingers are restless, feathering patterns across his chest; he catches her wrist within a loose, languorous fist before dragging it up to his mouth in a nip. “....My hondje’s got the energy to play so early in the morning?” Meeting her wide-eyed, contrite gaze as he tips his head at her, half-draped across him.

“I am… sorry?” Wriggling the digits of her captured wrist before she smiles.

He beams, unkind; the Devil. “Don’t apologize. I’ve got energy to spare.” She releases a choked sound of disbelief, gathering his palm within her free hand just as he's moving to slip it in between her legs.

“Thank you, no. I am sore and satisfied.” She breathes, feathering a kiss against his captive fingers. Angling a sanguine brow at him. “Perhaps this afternoon…”

He laughs then, a surprised, unrestricted burst of happiness. “As soon as we’ve had breakfast, I’ll need my sugar, knabbeltje.” He amends. She returns to peppering open-mouthed kisses across his neck, his face — he almost considers asking her to give way before his heart does. Almost.

But she is merciless, a finger traces familiar patterns right across his heart. “What are you doing?”

“Writing. Words. Since you’re fond of them.” She skews a loving grin his way, dangerous—

Gathering herself up above him before she drops in for a kiss. Murmuring her words against his mouth, the truth of her heart, fracturing his own to fall into her palms. “…Ik hou van je, Theo.” Brutal, cruel but she's still just his.

I love you, too. More than life, more than I’ve ever loved and I will, for as long as my heart continues to sound its renewed beats. Across centuries and through time, schatje, I will.

Go to Chapters: 1-10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (End)

End Notes: Thank you all for joining me for this long, almost an entire year long journey. This story has been so very dear to me and I'm delighted I got the chance to share it with you all. And for Nana, who let me run with this spark of idea, starting with some soft loving wisps for Theo and the prompt she requested:

I am so sorry, Nana and thank you for letting me write this, ILU2!!

Ahem, friends, you can find the rest of my stories within my master-post here.

#ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp theo x reader #ikevamp theo smut #ikevamp smut #ikevamp fanfic #ikevam smut #ikevam fanfic #ikevam theo #ikevam theodorus #ikevam theo x reader #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire fanfiction #a pickle writes #you are so queu(t)e

91 notes · View notes

mangolover · 3 years

Note

Hey! I'm not sure if you still take requests for your 50 followers event, but if you do, could I get Theo with prompt 25? Thank you! :D

Hey! Thank you for this request. I still do take requests for the event, so feel free to grab one of the last prompts.

Honestly, I really enjoyed writing this because it made me go down a memory lane when I read Theo’s route, stopping Mozart’s route for him. I’m still glad I read him, I really like the whole plot based on revenge.

Anyways, enough of my rumblings, here is your request I hope you like it! 💖

50 Followers Drabble Event, prompt #25 with Theodorus van Gogh

If you wish to check out the offical “50 Followers Drabble Event”, press here

Title: Creature of The Dark

Prompt: “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire / Ikevamp / Ikevam

Pairing: Theodorus van Gogh x gn! Reader

Genre: Angst (kinda fluff at the very end)

Warnings: broken trust, losing job, getting kicked out, poverty, dark thoughts, not eating properly, mentions of death (kinda), swearing, depression(?)

Spoilers: Theo’s route, some facts from Napoleon’s route

Word Count: 1000+

Description: He broke yet another promise and you cut ties with the whole mansion, trying to live on your own in city. Losing your job and getting kicked out, you didn’t know where else to go but to the art gallery.

This has some first person perspective, but it’s mostly 2nd perspective. I was trying something new, hope you all like it!

Neither of the themes above are explored in great detail, but still proceed with caution.

I am tempted to write a part 2 to this.

Enjoy!

Creature of The Dark

“Promise me you won’t try to handle things on your own anymore”

“Alright. I promise.”

‘Hmm.

I really should’ve stuck a needle in your eye the day you broke that promise. You promised it Theo, and yet when the first obstacle arrived in our view, you chose to try and handle it on your own. I guess old habits die hard. Or I was just always meant to be your shadow, only there when there was light.’

But you were always a creature of the dark.

You tried to make living, barely making it by each month you had to pay rent. But this month, today, you lost your job. Not even having money to buy yourself ingredients to make meals for tomorrow onwards, you sat down on the bare, hard, wooden floor and let your mind wander.

Leaving the mansion and cutting ties with everyone at the mansion seemed like a good idea back then. After all, the residents learned of your and Theo’s fight in the morning if they didn’t wake up from your raised voices.

You accused him of breaking his promise. He accused you of not having any trust in him. At first his words hurt. They still sting, like a needle in your heart, 4 months later. But in retrospective, he is right. You don’t have any trust in him. He broke one promise before that and still made no effort to try and show he is worthy of your trust.

Your stomach made a rumbling noise and you put your hands around your frame, knees cradling your head. Maybe you should’ve accepted Comte’s help. Or at least leave one bridge unburnt. But spite and hurt are intense emotions and now you can finally see that everyone’s actions have consequences.

Tomorrow morning, your fairytale of living on your own in 19th century France, was going to meet the cold and harsh reality. The winter was settling, preventing you from sleeping outside.

Should you go to Shakespeare? He’s Vincent’s friend, and Vincent was almost like a family. But what if you see Vincent there? How will you explain yourself to any of them? They are not stupid. No. Shakespeare is not an option.

Letting out a groan, you ran a hand through your hair, messing it up completely. Tears ruined your face even further and the weight of everything has finally settled on your shoulders, threatening to break you.

‘You didn’t have a job. You didn’t have money. You didn’t have family. You didn’t have friends. You were alone. You are alone. You pushed everyone away! You have nothing, you are nothing! You even lost your purpose as Theo’s shadow, thinking you deserve better things? Pfft, don’t be so pathetic Y/n. Don’t you have any pride left? Are you seriously going to give up now?’

‘Or have I given up a long time ago?’

Whole night you tried to fall asleep, but you knew that it wouldn’t be your sweet escape from reality. This is deemed to be a dreamless night. But better that than a nightmare.

The next day you gathered your belongings and started wandering through town. There was nothing better you could do either way. The door back to “present” wouldn’t open for at least a week, full moon not yet arriving and sparing you the agony.

You would be lying if you said you hoped to not run into any of the 11 residents. Sebastian could be going shopping today. Napoleon and Isaac could be going to teach kids. Anyone could be out, even Theo taking care of things on his own. And yet, fate didn’t bring you to any of them.

Defeated, you sat on the fountain ledge and placed your head in your hands, letting out a long sigh. You were out of options. You can’t just waltz back into the mansion. You can’t just come and go whenever there was something you didn’t like.

Something wet hit your knee and you peeled your face from its sanctuary of your palms, your eyes a bit wider than usual. You weren’t crying, right? You placed your fingers under your eye just as another droplet hit the tip of your nose. You looked up to see thick, dark clouds above your head.

‘Damn it!’ you cursed in your head. You need to find a shelter, so you made your way under some eaves. Maybe it will just be a quick rain. But the downpour that started just moments later crushed any hope you had left. Even if you had roof over your head, you were drenched and furious.

You are going to freeze to death here. The night was not going to wait for someone to save you, you need to do it yourself. You saw a carriage approaching and you waved at the driver, thankful when he stopped. You made your way in and told him the address you still knew by heart.

After a short ride and your last money leaving your pocket, you found yourself standing in front of an art gallery. Your last resort. Making your way to the front door. You pushed them slowly open.

“Welcome, feel free to have a look…” his words faltered when he saw you. You were soaked and shaking, clearly freezing. Your hair and clothes were a mess, your gaze cast down to the floor. “Y/n…”

“I didn’t know where else to go” your voice was quiet, like it would break at any second. “I’m sorry…” like you would break at any second.

So many memories and emotions flashed through both of you. Yet neither of you had the courage to make the first move, to speak first.

“I-I can leave if I am bothering!” you stuttered, fearing the ocean blue eyes of the vampire you once called your lover.

“No, stay” you weren’t even sure you heard him right. “We can talk in the morning if you want?”

Four months have passed without a single word spoken between you two. But you both still felt attached to each other.

“That would be nice” a small smile on both of your faces. “Thank you, Theo.”

“Anytime Hondje” your heart sung as he used his old nickname for you.

And with that, you made your way to the upstairs of the gallery where there was a couch you could get some rest on.

45 notes · View notes

kaeyas-beloved · 4 years

Note

Wait wait so your thing says request are still close but where u wrote something for someone it said request open so hmm idk ;-;. But just in case there open how about I request a mother MC/father theo from ikemen vampire where theo takes care of there newborn baby for the day this is a weird request DONT kill me ;-;

Hey Anon! Sorry for the confusion and the long wait - and don’t worry, your request isn’t weird at all! But I may have strayed from the request just a teeny tiny bit though... for the most part I think I stuck to the original idea of Theo with his baby for a day.

I hope you enjoy and you can always come back and request again if this wasn’t what you wanted :)

Warning(s): Teeny tiny spoilers for Theo’s route (if you know who Vollard is you’re fine!), One (1) Dutch swear word

A Newborn’s Smile {Theo x MC/Reader}

“Are you sure you’ll be alright Theo?” she asked her husband again, staring up into his calm ocean coloured orbs. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Theo ruffles her hair with a playful smirk on his face.

“What? Think I can’t take care of our daughter?”

“N-no, but-” she began, an anxious look in her eyes. While she may have full confidence that he can handle a day with their child, it’s still going to be the first full day that he’ll be left alone with her.

“Listen Hondje, you go with Sebas and when you get back you’ll see that everything will be the same as you left. Now, no more senseless worrying, it’ll be fine!”

Ten minutes later and everything was, in fact, not fine.

“Now what’s with all this noise?” Dazai rose a brow, having just entered via the mansion’s window, as per usual. Mozart, who rarely ever sat at the table, sighed, taking a sip of his black coffee.

“The girl left with Sebastian to run errands. Theo’s taking care of their baby...” Another ear piercing cry filled the room and they all winced. While the sound was deafening to the ears, the twinge of pain that filled Theo’s chest hurt more. The fact that his pride and joy was crying her little heart out and he wasn’t sure what to do had him completely lost.

‘How does Hondje do it?’

“Theo old boy, you should take a page out of your wife’s book right about now...” Arthur chuckled while rubbing at his temple, the writer only somewhat enjoying the sight of his friend struggling to take care of his kid.

“What do you mean?”

“He means it’s lunch time, she’s probably hungry” Napoleon piped up, emerging from the kitchen with a pre-made bottle in hand. Passing it to the Dutch art dealer, Theo began to feed his daughter, the baby quieting as she drank. Sighs of relief left everyone at the peace they got...

..which was short lived, the little girl beginning to cry once more.

“Well, someone’s not a daddy’s girl~”

“Quiet klootzak!” the baby cried louder, “tch, I’m gonna go see Vincent, he was always good with kids...”

“Best of luck~” Tossing a final glare paired with a scowl at the Brit, the younger van Gogh made his way up to the painter’s room.

“Afternoon Broer, sorry for barging in while you were painting...” Prompted by the sound of his brother’s voice, Vincent set down the brush he held, wiping off as much paint from his hands as possible while smiling.

“It’s alright Theo, I was finishing up anyway! But,” he frowned a little, gazing down with a troubled look at his niece, “you seem to be having a bit of trouble...”

“Yeah.. she’s been crying ever since this morning. Hondje was able to make her stop for the time being but then she left with Sebas and, well...”

“Mm... I see” Vincent hummed, trying to think of a way to help out his little brother.

“Ah! Why not show her the painting? Maybe if she sees it she’ll stop crying! It always worked when you were little!”

The idea was pure, innocent. It quite frankly made Theo embarrassed and for a split second he doubted that it’d really work. But, he reminded himself, Vincent is more experienced with kids than he is - plus, it didn't hurt to try.

“Fine...” stepping up to the coloured canvas, Theo angled his arms so that the little girl could catch a glimpse of the masterpiece. For some time nothing came of it as she continued to wail and Theo sighed, about to throw in the towel, claim that it was pointless and he’d just have to wait until his wife got home.

That was until the crying gradually got quieter and quieter before ceasing altogether.

The brothers stared in astonishment, watching as eyes that resembled the colour of a stormy sea stared in wonder at the painting of a vast ocean. Chubby little hands started to try and reach out to the picture, the little limps desperate to explore the new discovery more. And along with the newfound curiosity was a happy baby grin, a real one at that, and not just one of the usual reflex smiles.

It was truly a sight for sore eyes, a masterpiece that out does any other that the art dealer has seen before. If he’d had the ability to paint like his brother, Theo would’ve captured this moment in a heartbeat.

“Look Theo! She’s smiling! And she likes art just like you!” Vincent laughed joyfully, the smile contagious. At the same time the words spoken to him sparked Theo with an idea of his own.

“You’re a genius Broer! Dank je!”

“But I didn’t do anything- hey! Careful Theo!” Watching as his brother nearly raced out of his room, Vincent stared at the doorway, wondering what went through the other van Gogh’s mind to cause such a reaction.

Vollard’s is where he took her. If his little girl enjoyed his brother’s artwork surely she’d be over the moon with wonder at seeing the bright colours of other young artist’s work.

Turns out, he was right.

Instead of the cries from this morning, squeals of delight and laughter filled the room. Thankfully, none of the people who were expressing their creativity cared, it was a small price to pay if they had the honor of seeing the renown art dealer in such an unguarded and calm state.

This was his element, art having been a large part of his life, and the fact that Theo got to experience something like this with his daughter (no matter how young she is) was nothing short of precious to him, a memory he’d treasure for as long as he lived.

When every nook and cranny of the art studio was explored, Theo went around to other Paris museums, showcasing as much fine art as he could. While the reactions weren’t as lively towards the standard religious paintings, the look of wonder and awe that mirrors his own still remained.

And as afternoon turned to evening, the streets bathed in an orange hue and his daughter having dozed off long ago, Theodorus van Gogh donned one of the softest smiles he’s had in either of his lives. While he gazed down at the sleeping girl the image of her smile from earlier in the day flashed through his mind. Oh how he wished his wife was there to witness it with him.

Theo placed a light kiss to the child’s forehead.

“Rest well mijn schatje...” he whispered, silently promising that for as long as he can, Theo will make sure that his daughter continues to smile as brightly as she did today. Vowing that he’ll protect her happiness from the dangers of the world and doing anything to make sure that the joyful expression on her face stays a constant in all stages of her life.

~~~

*schatje can have the meaning of ‘little treasure’ (which is what I was going for in this)*

As of me posting this, requests are open [check my bio though to be sure]! Don’t forget to check the rules too for the fandoms/topics I write for (which are linked in my masterlist)!

Masterlist

#ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire #theo x reader #ikevam x reader #ikevam fanfic #ikevamp #ikevamp theo x reader #ikemen vampire theo #ikevam theo #ikevam theo x reader #ikemen vampire theo x reader #ikemen vampire theodorus #ikevamp theodorus

135 notes · View notes

niphredil-14 · 3 years

Text

Their First Time Seeing You Glamoured Up (Arthur, Mozart, Theodorus, Isaac)

@ichigostellaglynn asked:

Hiii glad i found you bc i loveeeeee your writing !! If you have time can you make hcs about dull mc, but someday Comte invites all residents + her to ball and mc finally show them her makeup skills and she being center of attention in ball xD

For arthur mozart theo isaac and... Up to you xD

Thankyou so much before 💕💕💕

Hi! Thank you so much, I’m glad you enjoy my writing! And yes, ofc I can write this! I hope you don’t mind, but where you said “dull,” I decided to go with the MC thinking she’s dull, rather than her being ugly, since beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all!

Arthur:

First things first, with this man, it doesn’t matter whether your bare-faced, or if you have caked on as much glam as you could fit on your skin, he will always find you absolutely radiating! Even though he never really saw you wearing much makeup, her natural beauty was better than anything he could imagine, and being a writer, he did a lot of imagining. But, when he was at the ball, and the doors swung open as you walked in, he felt as though he was seeing life through a whole new lens. The women who had been trying to catch his attention don’t stand a chance, not as his eyes are trained on you while he makes his way over to grasp you in his arms. Beauty has a whole new meaning to him, and he couldn’t wait to get you alone! Now, this doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like how you look without makeup, he honestly doesn’t have a preference! He thinks you’re beautiful either way!

Mozart:

He never much cared for appearances, so he never really bothered analyzing your appearance. The main thing he found beautiful about you was that twinkle in your eye that appeared whenever you were determined, proud, or excited. It warmed his heart, and the positivity you brought into his life was where he deemed your beauty to lie. That’s not to say that he didn’t find your physical appearance pretty! He did, it was just never what he focused on. Then came the fateful day of the ball. When his eyes first met yours, his jaw dropped, though he was quick to compose himself, all except for the red in his cheeks. When he approached, he could really see the detail up close, and it was apparent the amount of time you must have spent on this. And if there’s anything he can appreciate, it’s hard work. He admired the fact that you could amplify your own natural beauty to such an extent. Though, if he’s being honest, he prefers your bare face. To him, it is you in your most natural, vulnerable, and primal state. Seeing you like that, to him, is like experiencing an amazing force of nature at work.

Theo:

Theo is a tough one. He is secretly a lover of romance, and not so secretly, a lover of art and the beautiful things in life, and although I feel he wouldn’t like to admit it, there is something unexplainably beautiful in people, though he can’t quite place it. And the same goes for you, Theo thinks that, especially in your most natural state, you are gorgeous! When he first saw you in a full face of makeup at the ball, he was entranced. Gently grasping your chin and moving your face around in the light, much like a jeweler would appraise a diamond, he admired your handiwork. It didn’t take him long to see the pure artistry that cosmetics requires, which only put him further under your spell. Though, when it comes down to it, his favorite thing to see is by far, the transition and process of applying the makeup. Makeup is an artform, after all.

Isaac:

Isaac has never bothered with beauty, be it human or nature or art, for the only beauty he saw in the world during his human years were in numbers and science. But, there is something about you that makes him see the beauty that can be found in a person. At the ball, though, his newfound sense of beauty was raised to a new level when he saw you approach. He could barely see anything that wasn’t you! To him, you looked like some kind of goddess, and he couldn’t get enough. He still thinks that you are exceptionally beautiful even without the makeup, but if you ever want to see this man’s face go as red as a certain apple I don’t think he’d appreciate getting compared to, just put on a bit of makeup, and he would practically fall the his knees to worship the ground you walked on.

337 notes · View notes

readerinsertfanfiction · 2 years

Text

Gingerbread

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character: Theodorus van Gogh

Prompt: To those who made 2021 a little more worthwhile; here a present from me to you. This one is for @nad-zeta who has stayed loyal to this man despite what’s canon.

Warnings: Mentions of food, lots of sugar and coffee.

Words: +3k

Masterlist

A cup of coffee, six sachets of sugar, and a stack of pancakes; covered in glaze, filled with sugar crystals and all that was more unholy and sweet. That was the order of one particular man that frequented your shop, the order of which you could only approve half, but couldn’t condemn the other half as he was a paying customer, and who were you to judge a customer for their lack of taste in their coffee? You were there to do business, not to be a food critic, or worse; a food guru.

How he maintained his figure was another question, you weren’t involved enough with him to know what his life was like once he stepped out of your shop. You just knew that he liked to come by in the mornings, preferably as soon as you had opened the doors, so that he could scowl at the papers and read some poetry before leaving. Always the same rhythm and wearing a face of: ‘don’t talk, I bite’ before he disappeared entirely as the first morning rush started.

A familiar cycle that he only broke once when you opened the doors half an hour earlier. Just out of curiosity, because you had no clue when he arrived, or if he would magically appear if you happened to open earlier.

That was six months ago, and he did. Appearing out of the art gallery right across from your shop as deep blue eyes eyed you curiously, then demandingly, as if telling you to hurry up and open the damn door because you were gawking.

“Early as ever!” you had grinned, but the man had only grunted something that sounded like a growl. You had dismissed it, deciding that it wasn’t too bad to open up half an hour earlier if that meant sharing your lonesome morning coffee with a handsome, and above all quiet, lad.

He seemed to think so as well. And though your opening hours didn’t change, not officially anyway, you did come down half an hour earlier, just to spend some time with him. Your mysterious patron and his morning mood.

“I was thinking of painting this counter, as a statement-piece, but also a moodmaker,” you were in the middle of explaining your idea to the artist when the bell rang, signalling the entry of a customer, and a familiar one at that, if not at the wrong time.

“Vincent, we don’t have time to do charity commissions.”

Familiar face, but unfamiliar voice, after all, the two of you had barely spoken to each other in full sentences. Other than your ‘enjoy’ and ‘thank you’ the man had only grunted at you so far, most of the time using his eyes to signal to you that he didn’t want to talk.

Now, here he was, in his full grumpy glory as he came for Vincent, the artist you were talking to, and who had so kindly offered to make up a design for your counter after a mention that you wanted to create more of a ‘mood’ within your shop.

“Theo, be nice. Introduce yourself first,” the artist had scolded the other, in the way that only a brother would dare, or a close friend. Both which you found hard to believe, but either being a possibility as Vincent spoke out against ‘Theo’ in a way you would have never dared against such a morning face. But perhaps Vincent had never met the man in the morning, or perhaps Vincent lacked any sense of self-preservation, accompanied with a lack of fear. Perhaps it could even be a combination of both?

“Theodorus, Vincent’s brother. Come, we need to prepare for the next art-sale,” Theo commands, and starts tugging at the shorter man whose ever-lasting smile falters for a moment as he eyes you.

“Forgive my brother, I will come back tomorrow, alright?”

And with that you had confirmed, Vincent was a normal man, but his brother was a nut.

The following morning Theo stood in front of the door again, exactly on time, or rather, half an hour early as you opened the door.

“Took you long enough! It is cold outside and I have been waiting for five minutes.” These are the first words that escape his lips as a morning greeting, hands rubbing over his arms as he ushers himself into your shop and takes his usual seat in a corner, picking out the poetry collection he had been working himself through along with his order.

“Morning to you as well!” you call after the man in a strange spur of boldness, or perhaps you were taking after Vincent, pushing your limit to find how far you could go with this particular customer that you had never quite built any sort of relationship with verbally.

The glare sent into your direction immediately squashes out any plans of following that up.

Or perhaps not. For as you make his coffee and set it in front of him along with the accompanying sachets of sugar and his pancakes you plop down right across from him with your own breakfast plate and coffee. Your usual morning tasks could wait, you decided, finding a compelling pull within you to finally figure out who this mysterious customer is.

“Kaur?” you point out, your plate balancing on one leg as you find a comfortable posture to sit in the low lounge chair. “Who hurt you?” was your next question and Theo rolls his eyes at the question, making it known that he didn’t appreciate your joke.

“Not like you have much choice lying around here,” the man tells you, fingers turning around another page as his eyes flit over the lines, taking in the words as he decided to immerse himself with this fine morning.

You take the comment with a huff, wondering if there is an ending to his impoliteness before you decide that he is the opposite of his kind brother.

“I’m not in the business of selling books anyway,” is your retort before your eyes scan the collection you do have. It was a humble shelf, otherwise not worth a great mention, but it was your collection. Not meant for sale, but to enrich the experience of the little shop you had set up, your own haven.

“Yeah, and for a good reason,” Theo continues to deadpan you, but this time he flashes you a smile over the page he is holding down and you know that he likes it despite his attitude.

“Recommend me something, maybe I will add it in after I read it,” you propose and to this it is Theo’s turn to scoff as he shuts the book, setting it back where it belongs in the shelf before he turns towards his sugar rush breakfast, eyes falling over yours in the process of doing so.

“Decided to copy?” he questions, and you roll your eyes before leaning back in your chair, eyeing him from that low vantage point as you recall the first time Theo had visited your shop. Back then he was still nameless, a nameless man in a suit with a morning mood, looking like he drank his coffee darker than his soul, yet taking six sachets of sugar.

“That morning you took my breakfast by mistake,” you admit, recalling how you hadn’t had breakfast that day because of a late morning. Which had turned into baking yourself some pancakes on the fly as well when Theo had ordered some, after grumpily pointing at a picture of pancakes. And while you had finished decorating your pancakes, and done his in the usual standard manner as was common to sell in the shop he had waltzed off with your plate and promptly added another splash of syrup over the stack of sugar bombs.

“I was already wondering what place would get my pancake order right on their first try,” the man smiles at that, and you realise that it isn’t hard for him to smile at all in the early morning. He just chose not to, just as Theo made it no habit to be polite if he could help it.

“Is that why you came back?” comes your next question, and Theo’s coffee stills halfway in its travel towards his lips as he scoffs before taking a swig, his head shaking in that business-like mannerism that wasn’t meant to be disapproving, but bordered on condescending anyway.

“You just happened to be close by, and open early,” he tells you, and you remember that the gallery is right across the street. Close indeed. Not to mention, you started to open up half an hour early to top it off. It checked out.

“All my goodwill and you still call me a charity project?” you finally dare yourself to open the conversation to his remark of the day before. This time it earns a freeze from his side, as he stops cutting into his pancakes whilst blue eyes focus on you, waiting for you to continue.

“I pay, you know. Or do you want some extra sugar on the pancakes, free of charge?”

This time it earns a chuckle from the man who lowers his head, stabbing into a bite of the sticky mixture he ate for breakfast.

“One, deserved,” he says, before bringing the pancakes to his mouth and chomping down, “two,” and as he swallows Theo looks up once more, and you find that where Vincent’s eyes reminded you of summer sky, Theo’s were like the ocean, restless and deep.

“Two, it isn’t about the money, but his time. My brother has a hard time saying no to anyone, especially to people that…” Theo pauses, sentence unfinished before taking another direction.

“Anyway, he has trouble saying no. That is Vincent. Don’t let it get to your head.” And with that he shoves the rest of the pancakes in his mouth, barely giving himself the time to properly digest as he washes it away with his coffee in one go and leaves.

“See you tomorrow,” he grunts with the ring of the bell and you find that, just as this is the first time the two of you have spoken to each other beyond the morning grunts, he also didn’t finish his reading for today, the poetry collection of Kaur still stuck in the same place of the shelf, barely one poem read.

“Don’t mind him,” Vincent tells you later that day when he manages to sneak out of the gallery once more, “he is tense because of the upcoming holiday season, but he is a good guy.”

You wonder if he says this because Vincent cannot say a single bad thing about anyone ever, or because Theo truly does have a soft heart somewhere. One that loves poetry, that is, which confirms the soft heart despite the rough words he speaks.

“How do you know my brother anyway?” Theo asks you the following day, more talkative than you have ever met him before as he is the one starting the conversation with you. Kaur is still open in his lap, but the page hasn’t been turned since yesterday, and the plate of pancakes accompanied with his sweetened coffee are both untouched as well whilst he waits for your answer.

“Not all customers are as bad as you are.” Your response earns a huff from Theo who knows perfectly well what you are getting on, yet doesn’t want to admit it. His pride is much too large to give into such a simple taunt. You leave him to be as you fold your hands under your chin, leaning against the counter as you think back.

“He said it was like home,” you recall, and for a moment you see Theo freeze before he recovers himself with a chuckle, pretending that it was his still untouched coffee that scorched his throat instead.

By then you have figured out a few more details on your loyal patron. Other than liking poetry, drinking his coffee sweet, and his pancakes drenched. You have found that the younger brother is a firm young man with a keen sense for business. That he is well-travelled, and that he settled down here, with his own gallery, because he wants to see his brother’s dream come true. Theo was, shortly put, a man whose dreams were dependent on that of another benefactor, and as such he found himself here, far away from home, with coffee too sweet for anyone to touch upon, and a poem in hand.

“Recommend me some books tomorrow,” you tell him. It wasn’t a request, but an urging. A feeling of wanting to know him, wanting to know what was stored within his mind and what moved his heart. Like the pages of the books you had read told yours to all who bothered to read when they came by.

Theo doesn’t answer, other than informing you that his coffee is getting cold.

The next morning it is your own doorbell that rings, not the shop, and it is early. An hour too early for you to even open your door for Theo.

“Yo,” the man tells you, pushing past your door into your hallway as if he is entering your shop, “it is cold outside,” he informs you, as if to blame you for being too surprised to close the door.

You aren’t sure why he is here. Not on the how. You had invited him over after all, ‘in case you ever want to have your coffee earlier,’ you had joked. And that was all you had thought it would amount to be. An innocent flirtatious joke.

An innocent flirtatious joke that had Theodorus van Gogh now stand in front of you before the sun could even rise. In your house, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Do you even sleep?” That is the first question that escapes you instead before you shake your head, deciding that it is too early for answers and that you might as well brew that coffee now. You could turn in half an hour later, after all, for Theo was here.

“I brought a recommendation,” he tells you, and for a moment you wonder what he means before realising that he is holding a book, small and compact and with pages worn. The binding is stuck together with clear tape, but it is unable to hide its age, unable to hide how it has been read until the title on the cover has almost worn off. “I wanted to give it to you,” he continues as you wonder why he had to do so now, so early, and why here, at your doorstep.

But you remember the books on the shelf of your shops. How these were all books you had read and marked at some point and exposed part of who you are. You remember the courage it takes to tell those who bother to listen what moves your heart and realise, the worn and torn book Theo is giving you might contain a whole heart instead of a part.

You aren’t sure how to take that realisation. But you take it anyway, with a smile as you offer him coffee with extra sugar. “Breakfast will have to wait until I open the doors,” you tell him in a jest, but mostly because the contents of your fridge is embarrassingly low. You are an entrepreneur after all.

A fact that Theo takes note of as well as he turns around in your apartment, eyes flitting over your walls and your shelves in your place before he turns towards you. “There isn’t much of you here,” he says, and you know what he means to say as you avert your eyes.

“I hid myself in plain sight,” you tell him and Theo scoffs at that, though he doesn’t question it as he looks down at the worn book he had handed you while you promised to read it carefully, for it is between these pages that Theo had hid himself, only revealing himself to you.

“Want to try something new?” you ask the man on another early day. The cold has set in and winter is at its height, but despite the late rising of the sun he still waits at your door faithfully, waiting for you to open the shop half an hour early just for him.

Theo didn’t go to your place again after that morning, resuming the routine that the two of you had started with each other. That routine that felt like ages ago, in which you only recently grew closer. Like a neighbour that has lived next door for years, but only asked the name of the day before.

“As long as it isn’t your coffee again,” he tells you with a grimace, and you laugh heartily, remembering the day Theo had accidentally taken your coffee. You had grabbed the wrong mug, perhaps out of instinct with the intention to drink it yourself, but in that blurred moment you had handed him your mug instead and faced the wrath of a man whose coffee had been wrong.

Another new part of your routine between him and you. Half an hour earlier. Coffee ready, pancakes baking, and all set around the counter on which Vincent had slaved over, creating an amazing result that really set the mood of your little shop.

“It is your coffee that’s disgusting,” you tell the man as you reach beneath the counter painted in that characteristic style of his brother. There is a sweet smell lingering, and it grows stronger as you reveal a plate full of broken gingerbread. “A taste testing, for the season,” you explain, and proceed to tell Theo of the variations you had baked, the differences there are between each cookie and how it influences their profile.

Building up a relationship between patrons was common. You found that it was easier with some regulars than others. The distance that once existed between you and Theo had shrunk. The morning grunts were full conversations now, the half an hour that you would dedicate for him turning into something more. Something to look forward to. Something that didn’t need words to express, or a display to be seen. Something to start off with, and to continue together.

“So, why gingerbread?” Theo asks you, having nibbled on all variations you had made and given his constructive thoughts on them.

You pour him another coffee, adding in six spoons of sugar to save yourself some sachets, before slipping back into his corner with your own black coffee. The worn book is back with its owner, a few tabs tugged between the pages as you had marked the places that you wished to remember the most.

“Who knows, we could build a home,” you smile, and there isn’t much more needed for Theo to understand what it is that you are saying within that little corner he had made himself comfortable in.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevam #ikevamp theo #ikevam theo #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevam x reader #ikevamp x reader

89 notes · View notes

ikemensweetheart · 3 years

Text

Date?

Insired by this post

Theo x reader

________________

Taglist: @hamster-damn @canaria-blackwell @nad-zeta @tickotaku @thesirenwashere

________________

"Good morning." You look up at the sound of your name. You see sunshine incarnate walking into the dining room. "Oh, good morning, Vincent." You greet the elder Van Gogh with a smile.

Vincent returns your smile with a brighter one as he sits down beside Theo.

The brothers get chatting as you serve them their breakfast. When they were near finished, you heard Vincent say: "There's a new cafe that opened up in town, broer. I'd like to go and check it out. Are you free Friday, about 8?"

"Yeah, I can manage to be off work by then." Theo replies.

Vincent then turns to you. "What about you? Want to come along?"

You were surprised by the invitation. Not expecting to be asked to join the Van Gogh brothers' bonding time. "Sure, I'm free then." You finally say after taking a moment to recover.

"Great!" Vincent says cheerfully clapping his hands together. "Because I'm not." He declares, standing up and walking out of the dining room. "Enjoy your date!" Are his departing words as he disappears. Leaving you and Theo staring dumbfounded at each other.

What just happened?

____________

Thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoyed!

Stay Safe Everyone!

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #theo x reader #ikemen vincent #ikevam vincent #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen theo #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen fanfiction

77 notes · View notes

kawai-caramia · 3 years

Text

I had this in my head so now its your problem :)

Little death

Pairing: Leonardo x reader

Genre: romance

Warnings: slight sexual content

La petite mort~ little death (orgasm), brief loss or weakening the consiousness

You can ask one question a day and he has to answer.That is the rule of your agreement.

,,I want to see him so badly" you thought as you were searching for him all over the mansion.

You laughed at your self for being so needy of him,wanting him around you all the time as if that was the only way for you to be truly happy.

But this time there was more,you dare to wish for more.

Leonardo is in the libery, his mind lost somewhere in between Italy&France. He was studying the world map so deep in his thoughts yet the moment you walked in he felt it.

He has so much passion in those golden eyes. That drove you insane. Oh to be lucky enough to be the one he lays his eyes on...

Finally you spoke ,,Leo, I want to use my question." You felt as if your heart was in your mouth.

He looks up from his map and tilts his head,,Oh I am scared now...you have that look on your face." he pointed his finger on you and smiled

Your brows snapped together ,,What look?"

,,The-I want this now and i will have it one way or the other. So go on ask your question, i will joyfully obey to answering it" he hinted.

You slowly walk up to him,with every step picking up the strength to ask him ,then you glanced straight into his eyes ,,Leonardo can you make me cum?"

His eyes go wide and he laughs shortly ,,I belive i can." And with that he turns back to the map on his table,running fingers across her.

Did this son of a bitch just ignore me? Flew on your mind

Leonardo had this devilish smirk on his face. Oh he is enjoying this...

You took the map in your arms ,,I asked you a question I need an answer Leo. Now!"

He raised his eyebrows and gasped

,,You are awfully needy today ,cara mia" his long fingers lifted up your chin forcing you to face him. Your eyes were burning up.

,,I replied to your question. I said I can. You asked if i CAN do it, you didn't ask me TO do it."

Your jaw clenched, you were annoyed,needy,head dizzy from the smell of his cigarillo mixed with caramel..

You get closer to his face,golden eyes tracking your every movement with amusement ,finally you whispers on his ear,,I want you inside me.Do i need to draw it for you?"

You trace your arms over his broad chest,He pulls you by the waist on to his burning body,bringing your lips together. The taste of liquor on his tongue,his arms going lower on your back, he grabbed your ass , lifted your leg so you can wrap him up nicely...

Whats going on...? My body feels like its on fire...I'm so aroused... your mind is a total mess

He kisses his way down to your neck,soft lips of his leaving wet marks,you moaned a little and he came closer to your ear,he bites it lightly.

Raspy whispers of his voice,hot breath of his going through your entire body ,,You are awful at drawing cara mia ,but tell me how many times do you want me to kill you?"

Your eyes widened,,As much as it take to make me cry from mon petite mort"

127 notes · View notes

mansions-maiden · 3 years

Text

Stars shall weave my destiny

A/N : So hey there again! I'm back again, not fully but , I am gonna be little free from now since my college works are completing bit by bit, and I wanted to write this as a start..

MC's feeling as they are torn between the decision to stay back in mansion or go back to their own time as they fall in love.

PS: I tried gender neutral version of mc this time.

words: <1000

I don't know if destiny plays fair or not, but it never ceases to drop a bombshell. Who knew that wheels of destiny would play this surprising game? I was meant to be a mere visitor in louvre but had stumbled across the door, which landed me in this time period.

Now I remember Shakespeare's famous quote, " All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players.."

Never have these words more suited me. After all, he (suitor of your choice) and I are just players in this game of the destiny. I met the person that I shouldn't have crossed paths with at all. But before I realized it, my heart was a prisoner of his.

I walk through the mansion hallways and open the doors of balcony. The cool wind brushes against my cheeks as I stare at the town lit by arc lamps. Wrapping arms around myself and seeking warmth, my thoughts drift to the time I came from as I look at the town. The town shining with the lights in this century reminded me of my time.

"The city in my time is also lit the same way, every light from the skyscrapers filling me up with an indescribable warmth in my heart. The lights gave me a sense of security, that I'm not alone in this world.

The nightscape of 19th century town is making me nostalgic and anxious somehow. Why did I have to go and fall in love with a person from the past? Just like people fall in love with the moon albeit the millions of stars that adorn the night skies, I have fallen in love with the man who might be way out of my league.

According to Comte, once I leave the mansion through the door, there's no coming back. Do the heavens like to toy with my heart and mind? Why does my love have to be a double edged sword?

This love ablaze in my heart demands sacrifice either way... If I leave this place and go to my time, these all would remain as a distant memory and I would have no choice but to forget the man I love... If I decide to stay back, I have to bid farewell to my family, my friends, my relatives, my life... I feel as if my heart is breaking into pieces like glass shards with the mere thought of bidding goodbye to the ones you love from either of the times. Is this how Comte and Leonardo feel every time they have to bid farewell to the persons they have bonded with ?

I look up at the night sky and see the hauntingly beautiful moon that hangs in the sky. It's crescent shape seems as if it's mocking me, cruelly reminding me again the less time I have to make the decision. The decision that's going to affect my entire life.

Along with the night winds blowing, these conflicting thoughts feuding against themselves made me cold inside out. Both my heart and mind were against each other. My heart wanted to stay here with the vampires whom I have become fond of over the time I spent here. To stay here with the man I'm falling in love with.

My mind was screaming at me,' you do not belong to this time period, you belong to the future. You were always meant to be a visitor. Don't get too attached to him and the others.'

"Am I ready to give up my life I've spent in my time and stay back in this world? " I know that I cannot answer the question right away. And this thought was eating away at my soul.

My head was spinning and ready to explode as these overwhelming thoughts consume my mind.

I heard a sudden clacking of shoes down the corridor and opening of the door behind me. My eyes widened as I turned around and saw him standing there, with eyes that looked at me with concern now. Those were the eyes that had always held me captive as his gaze seemed to stare into my soul. Eyes that I fell in love with. But this has to remain a secret for now. I smiled at him bashfully and pushed all my thoughts aside, not wanting to worry him.

I told myself again, "I may not have answer to the question that my heart and mind ask me. But I do know that I am certainly in love with you, _______(suitor's name) ." I will let the stars and heavens weave my destiny and future that I will hold.

"Nothing at all, just some random thoughts that kept me awake until now. Haha. C'mon, let's go inside. " I told him . I told myself again that everything will be figured out in the end by itself. And I tried calming down my racing heart as I felt his presence beside me, walking alongside me across the hallways.

"Did you say something mc?" He asked, looking at me curiously.

#ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire x mc #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire dazai #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire sebastian #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikemen vampire fluff #ikemen vampire isaac #all other characters too #ikemen vampire mozart #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevam x reader #ikevamp jean

46 notes · View notes

shookspearewrites · 2 years

Photo

Heya @i-am-totally-a-weirdo my lil duckling, how are ya doing? Y’all will be excited to know that I finally finished uni! So I’ve got so much more time now to write ^^ I have missed you all so much 💛

- JJ x

~~~~~~~~~~

Theodorus van Gogh:

MC giggled as she clinked glasses with Arthur again and took a sip of her cocktail; Her cheeks flushed with warmth and painted peach, her pretty eyes gleaming with joy even in the terribly lit pub. The beautiful lady nuzzled her cheek against Arthur’s shoulder, smiling softly to herself when her friend snaked his arm around her waist to help hold her up and smirked down at her warmly, “You doing alright down there, luv?”

MC hiccupped and blushed bashfully, her crystalline eyes meeting Arthur’s own pair, “Mhm, don’t tell anyone but,” she raised her head to whisper into her friend’s ear, “I might be a little bit drunk.” The young woman giggled when met with Arthur’s expression of affection and faux-shock, “Am I in trouble?”

The Brit cupped his friend’s cheek and gently caressed her skin with his thumb, “Not at all, poppet.” Arthur put his now empty glass down on the bar and stood himself up on slightly wobbly legs before offering MC his hand, “Come on now, MC. Let’s get you home.” MC stood herself up slowly and took an unsure step toward Arthur. Her high heel caught on one of the legs of the stool she was sat on, causing the lady to fall forward into Arthur’s arms, the two of them landing with a hard thud on the wooden floor.

“Hondje, what the fuck-?” Theodorus van Gogh, MC’s fiancé who’d just arrived in the pub from a busy day at work, scowled at the sight of his lover, drunk and straddling his best friend’s lap on the floor, both of their faces flushed red with embarrassment.

“T-Theo,” MC met Theo’s cold, steely stare and scrambled to stand herself up, stumbling on her high heels and pulling her jacket closer to her chest, wanting to hide away from the prying eyes and drunken laughs of the pub’s other patrons. The Dutchman grabbed his lover’s wrist and pulled her out of the pub, his expression cold and unreadable as he strode towards their carriage whilst MC had to almost run to keep up with his long strides, “Theo, listen, let me explain-”

“Genoeg, hondje,” he almost growled, jealousy flooding his gentle heart when he glanced back and saw MC’s pink cheeks and the worry and tears pooling in her pretty eyes. He tired to gulp down the lump in his throat as he flung open the carriage door and ushered his beloved inside, following her in and shutting the door after he told the coachman where to take them. Theo glared at MC from where he sat on the plush velvet seat opposite her, cocking an eyebrow and crossing his arms across his chest, “What happened?”

Tears began to roll down MC’s cheeks as she cowered under Theo’s gaze, her throat dry as she tried to stutter out her explanation, “I h-had too much to drink and, and my heel caught o-on my stool and I fell. I didn’t want to be that close to Arthur,” she let out a sob. The lady reached out towards the art dealer and took his large left hand in her own delicate pair, squeezing it softly, “I love you. I-I only want you.”

Theo’s expression softened and he felt the tension in his chest loosen as he squeezed MC’s hand in return and reached his other hand out to wipe away her tears, “Hey, hey, het spijt me.” The vampire sighed deeply and crossed over the small carriage to sit next to his fiancée, smiling to himself when she snuggled up against his chest and her shoulders relaxed a little, “I love you too, schatje. Heh, next time I should stay with you and make sure you don’t get too drunk.”

MC snickered shortly, “You’ve got an even worse tolerance than me, though, Theo.”

“Oi,” he retorted, gazing down at his lover and ruffling her hair playfully until she giggled, “You can’t talk about me being a lightweight when you know I’m going to have to take care of you when we get home.”

“Take care of me huh?” MC met Theo’s gaze with an unfamiliar confidence, her cheeks flushing pink again and a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, “Well I am a lucky girl.”

“Behave, hondje.” A little heat came to Theo’s own cheeks as his mind replayed images of many a sleepless night the couple had spent together before he took MC’s chin between his forefinger and thumb and placed a loving kiss on her lips.

170 notes · View notes

timeless-tende · 2 years

Text

Vincent: Do you think you’ll ever fall in love?

Theo: I dont know. I think if she likes pancakes, then probably.

#ikemen #ikemen games #ikemen series #ikémen vampire #x reader #ikevamp #incorrect ikemen quotes #ikemen incorrect quotes #ikemen vampire #ikevam theo #ikevam vincent

141 notes · View notes

janumun · 3 years

Text

Afbranden (Chapter 12: Sputter Then Burn)

Pairing: Theo/Female Reader, [past] Arthur/Female Reader Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 8k

Warning Tags: infidelity, explicit sexual content, hurt and comfort, eventual second relationship, Arthur main story spoilers, sad with a happy ending, mentions of murder and a certain IkeVamp Act 2 character

Go to Chapters: 1-10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (End)

Tagging: @tell-that-to-my-feather, @shookspearewrites, @iotona, @crystal13unny, @ikevamp-shrine-2 and @otomebebe

The cries of death sound close and menacing with each second wasted, beyond heavyset doors but the man knows they stand no more than feathers in resistance to the force that lurks just beyond: impending doom.

“Please my Lord! I did as you commanded. You promised me protection! I beg you. Save me! Save me Lord!” His supposed Savior — the Devil incarnate in that moment — tips a listless glance his way as if that eerie carmine gaze regards him as no more than insect. To be crushed underneath a cruel heel.

Before the Devil lets loose a delicate exhale, slow and deep as if they happen to have all the time in the world. “And you are informing me you let them escape your men?”

“M-My Lord, they must be dead by n—” Quicksilver motion deadly, impossible to follow. The Devil has his claws buried within his neck as he lifts him off of the ground; preternatural strength, squeezing the very life out of him.

“M-My Lord V-Vla—” The man froths in his last, desperate attempts for mercy.

“I do not recall asking for their deaths. But you can pay for your folly by your own.” Digging long, pale fingers deeper into the man’s neck until he hears the crush of bone beneath his hand, letting the corpse fall, lifeless, at his feet.

Only the Devil remains; turning one last glance at the closed heavyset doors and the figure beyond, he knows approaches, for recompense of loved ones hurt. “A pity, dear Comte, for our reunion shall have to wait.”

“—chérie.”

You had awoken alone then; momentary fear gripping your heart to not spot him in your immediate vicinity. And then, that awful thought: Did he—did he not… survive?

The door had swung open before you could scramble out of bed to search for him, half delirious in your desire to see Theo once more.

A hand smooths across your arm in gentle query, dragging you out of winding thoughts. Shifting your gaze towards the mirror in front, to meet with an aureate gaze, softened in worry as le Comte inquires once more, “Is everything alright, ma chérie? Do you not feel well?”

You smile; quick to reassure him. “I’m perfectly good, Comte. I’m sorry for not paying attention.” Gesturing towards the dress you have on at the moment, a lovely, striking shade of ultramarine sequined with delicate stones. “The outfit is gorgeous but I’m not sure I could possibly accept—”

“Consider it a gift, chérie. It would make me happy were you to accept and wear it to the exhibition. It is an important occasion for both you and Theo, isn’t it?”

You meet once more, with that knowing gentle smile and concede, “…Yes it is. Then… I graciously accept. Thank you so much, Comte, I love it.”

“You are most welcome, my dear.”

The Comte’s gaze stays on you, watching you observe yourself within the full-length mirrors, absent strokes smoothing out invisible creases until you hear him speak once more. “I’m sorry I could not return earlier. My lack of insight is what resulted in that frightening experience for you and Theo.”

“It’s hardly your fault Comte.” You turn to face him, quick to refute. “Please don’t say so and after you’ve been so kind. I hold nothing but gratitude towards you.”

Le Comte affords you a brief smile before that expression morphs back into solemnity. “I assure you nothing of the sort shall ever happen again. For that, I give you my word.”

“And I trust you.”

The Comte turns to leave, affording you privacy to change back into your clothes, before he halts at the door. “Should you require my help in matters other than the one we discussed, know that it is yours, always, chérie.”

And you smile at the quiet, encouraging gesture, knowing he speaks of what passed in between you and Arthur, certain of one fact alone, “I think I’ve got this one, Comte, thank you.”

⚡⚡⚡

Scrabbling to reach for her in delirium the moment he’d woken from fever dreams. Body drenched in sweat, chest rattling with the effort it took to claw air back into lungs. The violence of nightmares, of her lost to the beast that dragged at its scaffoldings, within, whispering ominous still within his mind.

Stumbling his way through the mansion until the Comte had chanced upon him, and he’d begged then, to let him see her.

Colors swell just as vivid; brilliant expanse of canvas beneath the scrutiny of his magnifying glass. Drawing back in satisfaction, Theo cannot help the thought that flits through his mind: she is going to adore this piece.

Restless feet dither, to not have her in immediate sight. The longer he idles in wait for her return is another second of concentration lost. Work he ought to be focusing on but his mind refuses productivity.

Eyes drifting over the space of the gallery in an effort to scrabble for distraction, drawn as if on instinct towards one of her favored paintings on their last visit: a man’s devotion to his wife. Lips pressed against the woman’s fingers, delicate, in adoration.

“Kisses bear a language of their own, you know. A kiss on the fingertips signifies great regard. ‘I care for you’, it means.”

And then; a swift, vehement surge of recollection once more.

The slip of a yielding digit against his fang until her skin split open to blood upon his tongue. Possessive arms curling around her body, fingers finding purchase within her hair to hold firm as he’d shoved her to the ground. Fangs plunging, ravenous, into soft flesh. Digits entwined as if they’d never part, the press of her shivering smile into the palm of his hand.

“You told me to trust you, didn’t you?”

A tremble eases its way through him at the memory; he scrubs a hand through his hair to strip himself of thoughts he’d rather not have at the moment.

Grousing a low curse at the sluggish passage of time, Theo turns to inspect the remaining paintings before he catches sight of the straggling figure behind, tailing his movements in silence, as if in waiting.

Theo prods a less than pleased frown at his unexpected company. “I thought I told you to take the day off, Samuel.”

“And abandon you this close to the exhibition? Nonsense, Master Theodorus. Not when I am in perfectly good health, thanks to you.”

“Stubborn as a mule.” His mouth, softening into a grin at his employee’s staunch words.

Samuel angles a casual look over his shoulder; Theo realizes he’s watching her favorite painting. “Both you and the Mademoiselle seem particularly fond of this artist’s works.”

He does not reply, choosing to turn towards it once more, instead.

“The painter’s a romantic soul, isn’t he? No wonder you like him so, Master Theodorus.”

“Hah. You think so, do you?” Theo moves to pocket his magnifying glass, fixing a raised brow at him.

“It was a compliment, sir,” he hears the smile pulling at Samuel’s words.

Perhaps, he’s correct, Theo means to respond before a voice, so very aching and familiar — welcome — breaks through his thoughts.

“Sorry I’m so late!”

As if his want conjured her out of frangible dreams; she’s walking towards him now, arms ladled with paper bags even as that smile — Godverdomme, that gorgeous quirk to lips he isn’t able to wrench his gaze from — draws nearer.

Before she’s in front of him at last and he’s able to scrutinize her expression for what it is: rather drawn as if she’s got something going on in that mind of hers. Again, it bothers him to not know what she’s thinking.

Moving to probe a thumb at the edge of her mouth, testing soft skin beneath, before he presses in harsher to drag at the corner of her smile, disbalancing the stilted symmetry of it.

“T-Teo?” Her eyes wide in bewilderment, she tries to give words to her question around the intrusion of his finger.

“Brazen hondje¸ skipping out on work to scamper about the city without a care. Did you get your tasks done like I asked you to?”

That stunted smile’s gone as if it never were, slotted in instead by the moue that pulls, indignant across her face. Furrowed brows that leave him wanting to knot them tighter in vexation, or smooth a finger across them until she smiles for him, unabashed.

Tipping her face just that bit, she tries and bites — bites— his thumb away, teeth snagging against the pad of it before he has it withdrawn, just as brisk. “Of course I did. Whatever do you take me for?”

Before pink crawls up her cheeks, light, arousing, in her mortification. “I’m sorry, I hope that didn’t hurt.”

Theo can no longer tame the grin he feels dragging at his mouth. “No more than it would if a puppy nipped at her master.”

The vexation is back across her features, before she turns away to try and divert his attention back to the upcoming exhibition. He joins her without further complaints, watching her as she speaks. Proposing her own amendments, in conjunction with Samuel’s input to the placement of paintings: as if all is right once more, back in place. Another day spent working at her side.

And Theo feels those palpable strains of relief seeping into his bones, at the familiarity of the situation.

He’d barged into her room at the mansion, where le Comte told him she rested, body tightening as if in fear of the worst. But there she’d sat upon her bed. Dazed and lost before her gaze swiveled his way, a swift rotary of emotions flittering through at the sight of him.

And then she was rising, slow and unsteady. Mouth falling open as if in disbelief, eyes darkening with moisture that threatened to overflow. He’d felt the weight of her body crash against his, he almost faltered in his own steps before her arms were coiling around his waist, quivering fingers hitching at the cloth of his back. Holding firm as she sobbed, the sounds loud, wrenching at his own heart as she called for him over and over. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry but I had to. I had to, Theo. You’re alright. Oh God, that’s all that matters.”

Folding her in close, crushing her body against his till he felt her gasp break within his ears.

He did not lose her, after all.

⚡⚡⚡

“Could you please lower it a little? To the right. Yes, that’s perfect.” Thanking the workers as they move to carry over the next painting to be displayed within the spacious hall of the auberge, your eyes drift over the entire space coming together at long last; the final day before the betrothal ceremony-cum-exhibition.

The entire chamber’s rife with nervous energy and animated preparations, workers bustling about to get last minute adjustments in — you catch sight of Samuel heaving about a few heavy fixtures through the door along with a couple other men.

Your gaze, inevitably, with much reluctance — you’d been trying to maintain focus for you’d let your eyes wander over, seeking him far more times than you could count — slipping over the crowd to single Theo. Just as assured as ever, vigorous as he’s ever been, as if that awful night hadn’t happened at all. Relief seeping in anew, in the knowledge that he’s well and alive. You did not lose him.

Palpable relief and something more; it was irony to be forced to acknowledgement through the near-death of one you held so dear. The mind-numbing claws of fear seeping in along with what you were feeling; for you'd experienced the terrifying loss of it with Arthur.

And with it, the weight of your guilt settling in once more, in the recollection that you’d forced Theo's hand, regardless of the outcome.

Observing him now, debating something with Samuel before he claps a heavy hand across his back. The slide of that well-known grin in place, bright sapphire gaze slipping over towards the painting he stands in front of; the light that sparks within — all of it you so admire and adore. Resolute mettle and propensity to maneuver and storm the art world of 19th century Paris as he so does, boundless pride swells within to witness him realizing a notable right step towards his dream.

A resigned smile, you feel pulling across your mouth to know how far you’ve both come, how your relationship has shaped itself anew over the years and then these past months.

His infuriating gibes at your expense, but you’ve caught the kindness in fingers that settle to card through your hair. His odd name for you, you’ve grown so used to hearing over time, you recall the day when he’d all but yelled at you, you weren’t some wide-eyed stumbling puppy, waiting for protection — ‘hondje’ seemed peculiarly endearing.

And then, his patience and steady kindness; never over-bearing nor influencing your grapple with your sorrow, watching quiet at your side. Your own growth and pace you found… gradual, with him at your side. He’d helped you find yourself once more, your own person, not one so mired within the susurrating ghosts of despair and hurt as you’d once been.

So much so you almost resented how utterly without blame you found the entire man called Theodorus van Gogh. Even with all his infuriating quirks, the way he never let slide an opportunity to butt heads with you and yet, your heart still adored him all the more for it, and feared in equal measure how deeply he'd found himself ingrained within you. How he seemed to settle as if a piece of puzzle against yours. You were… you were—

“Despise me so much, do you? You’ve resorted to making those terrible faces now.” A finger prods in between your brows, smoothing the frown in between. You swat the intrusive hand away in surprise, eyes finding Theo's, the light in them mischievous as he smiles.

“Theo! I didn’t notice—”

“Clearly. What’s got you so bothered?”

Trust him to catch you fretting from a mile away. You could not help the smile that pulled taut at your mouth at the thought.

“And now she’s smiling. Do you need a break, hondje?”

“Hush, no I don’t.” Angling a furtive glance his way — he did not seem particularly angry — you couldn’t help but watch him ever since, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Tomorrow’s the last day.” He began, the words somehow settling ominous within your heart.

“I… yes.”

“Tell me what you need to after we’re done, alright?” Sapphire gaze; slipping to meet yours, he holds it until you nod, slow.

“Good hondje. That was the correct response.” Fingers slipping over the crown of your head to pet and card through your locks, he smiles, gentle enough it twists your heart to witness it.

A beat, two, of silence before he speaks again. “Trust me, don’t you?”

And that is perhaps your one yawning fear; that irrefutable faith in him.

“…Always.”

⚡⚡⚡

The hall’s alight with merry conversation and bright laughter beyond heavyset doors. The spark of chandeliers glittering across the ceiling’s dome. Elaborate suits and flamboyant gowns flittering about the center of the marbled floor in an ocean of tightly meshed bodies as the orchestra continues to play its beautiful melody.

The engaged couple in question, you meet at last, extending their heartfelt thanks for their venue of choice. Heaping praise upon praise for your collective efforts at commemorating their occasion with works of art they insist they’ll never forget.

They move away soon after, joining to cater to their crowd of guests. Polite invitations extended towards you and Theo to enjoy the ball to your heart’s content, having discussed future negotiations and sales of a few paintings with your companion. You’re almost admiring his uncanny ability to have secured a deal out of them, before his voice breaks through your reverie. “Tch, the entire circus was invited.”

Tracing his gaze to settle upon a surprising sight: Mozart with an amiable smile upon his features — looking far too stiff, compared to his usual demeanor — as he converses with a crowd of over-enthusiastic nobles, surely praising him for his piano solo at the beginning of the evening. Farther behind, you catch sight of Napoleon in tow with Leonardo, an odd combination, as the two linger at the edges of the dance floor, neither appearing particularly enthused in joining the couples upon the floor.

A few more of your friends among the crowd — you catch Vincent’s eye, returning his smile and greeting with a wave and happy nod of your own — with obvious absentees, Jean being one.

Breathing out a chuckle you secrete behind one laced hand, “Give it a rest, Theo. They’re all well-known individuals within the city and with the Comte’s name associated with you all, this was to be expected. We really ought to be thanking Comte instead for generously contributing to the expansion of the exhibition to the upper gallery.”

He makes a low noise; a reluctant rumble of an assent, before you catch sight of a few junior artists making their way towards the two of you.

“Well then, I guess I’ll relinquish hold upon our star of the night for a while. Thumbing at the far table of treats, “I’ve been meaning to sample some of those drinks all evening.”

“Hey now, hondje—”

You let your hand linger across the crook of his elbow a moment longer before moving away.

It’s an important night for him as well, one you’re adamant on letting him relish to its fullest.

⚡⚡⚡

Theo takes distant note of the Comte moving to replace the artists as soon as they’re out of sight. As if he’d been waiting for the moment. He nods at the older man, eyes sweeping across the spacious hall. His own questions, impatient at the tip of his tongue.

The Comte answers his unspoken query before he can utter it. “The immediate perpetrators have been dealt with, rest assured, Theo. The matter’s now been handed over to the officials.”

A polite smile pulls across the Comte’s face, in acknowledgement of a passing couple’s greeting. “However, there is something that bothers me…”

Theo’s spine stiffens at the words, voice dropping as he prompts him to continue.

“I do not believe I’ve been able to uncover the true mastermind behind Goupil and Cie. The entire situation is rather… odd.” A rare knot of a frown, the Comte’s golden gaze hardens for an instant before his brow relaxes. “I apologize, Theo but I will need time.”

Le Comte watches his companion's jaw stiffen, words unspoken. Gaze still fixated afar as he weighs the gravity of the situation. “What do you suggest be done? I don’t want to let her into anything even close to that kind of situation again. I— Surely you must know…”

“I do, which is why I wish for you to move out of Paris for the time being. Until I can make sure neither of you will be put in harm’s way again. I can provide you both residence in one of my chateaus a few cities over, were you to wish it, Theo.”

Silence settles upon them as Theo turns upon his words in mind.

“Is she aware of the situation?” Sharp gaze fixated upon her figure as she skirts the edges of the floor near the buffet table — Theo’s been unable to let her linger far out of sight, irrationality he berates but is helpless to resist.

“She was the first to know.” Comte assures. “She has agreed to think over the proposal but she did request I focus my efforts on ensuring the safety of you and yours, foremost.” He smiles, almost knowing.

“That foolish—”

Theo’s words taper off as he watches a familiar, despicable face — Shakespeare — making his way towards her through the crowds. Back teeth snagging against each other in an irritated growl, he wrenches his gaze from the sight momentarily.

Tipping a glance le Comte’s way, “It doesn’t matter so long she’s far away from here, right? I have a place in mind… if she agrees.”

⚡⚡⚡

Gaze streaking through the throng in restless search of the man he’d witnessed, drawing closer to where he’d spotted her moments earlier, Arthur’s steps hasten as he maneuvers past the tight crowd of bodies.

A chance he’d been dithering about for all evening, to brave his courage to face her once more; to receive her righteous anger, whether she cursed him, or turned him away, he couldn’t leave without knowing if she were truly well. The night she’d been taken burned bitter regret still.

Forged to fiery pain, now, to be hindered by that unearthly fey of a man.

The playwright, William Shakespeare, he finds soon in his sights. Engaged in conversation with her; the quick knit to her brow before it smooths, the tightening of pressed lips before she returns his smile. It unsettles him far more than he cares to admit. Dashing uneasy thoughts as the writer’s gaze — mellow and blood-red, a disquieting contrast to that smile plastered upon his face, unpleasant — meets his across the room.

Perhaps Shakespeare excuses himself from her presence, Arthur catches him making his way towards him soon after. Plucking glasses of champagne off the nearest silver platter before he offers it to him, along with his airy greeting. “‘Tis a blessed encounter to meet you well, Arthur.”

Ignoring the drink, he answers that treacly smile with a drab one of his own, “I don’t quite share your sentiments, Will, old boy. Meeting you here is hardly pleasant.”

“Strong insults thou speak in. I admit I am hurt.” Shakespeare remarks, smiling as if it’s anything but. “I shan’t keep you then.”

“Do you have any business with our sweet resident?” Tipping his head in her direction, Arthur inquires, unable to conceal the edge to his voice.

“Surely, our private conversation should be of no consequence to the ears of an unconcerned cozener.”

Arthur’s smile goes frigid across his face to catch the accusation, flinching at the pain it brings before Shakespeare continues as if he hadn’t noticed. “Wherefore must I ignore a friend I do not see often? I merely wished to extend but well-wishes to the fair one, seeing how she flourishes still past the adversity wrought upon her. Wouldst thou agree, Arthur?”

He remains stock still, the smile pressed away as he watches the playwright ease into a gentle smile. “A pity though it be through perfidy of one you called friend, thou hast lost what is most important, nay?”

“…If it’s not too much to ask, I’d thank you to shut up.”

A soft sound of laughter is what Shakespeare leaves him with, “Farewell then, gentle Arthur.”

⚡⚡⚡

You’d known he’d been invited and you’d glimpsed sight of him at the entrance, before you’d retreated back towards your own final checks with the artists, in lieu of Theo who was busy elsewhere.

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to approach Arthur; you worried for his wounds, you did. The men hadn’t left him any well off and you hadn’t had the chance to inquire after him, yet.

Arthur had chosen to keep himself strictly out of sights during your recuperation at the mansion. Or perhaps it was your sight he wished to avoid.

It was only too easy to parse his thoughts after. He did not know how to face you, perhaps even more so than you. The soul-deep regret and pain you’d witnessed across his face that last night, Arthur wasn’t a man who let go of his demons so easy.

You were determined tonight to untangle those threads — entirely — to find a moment with him, to check after… and thank him, even if that was all you could give.

And so, when the voice of the man within your thoughts materializes at your back, you almost jump in tense surprise.

“…Would the lady be so kind as to provide me the honor of a dance?”

You swivel on your heel, coming face to face with his smile, the creases at the corner of his eyes warming it, the very same as when he used to look upon you once upon a time… but also, a flickering sense of dread you sense within that bright, cerulean gaze as if he fears your rejection. You have none to offer tonight.

“Arthur...” And you see how he flinches at the sound, as if you might’ve pushed him away.

“It’s quite alright to turn me down! But I do so wish to speak to you. It was my hope tonight… that you’d allow me your time, however brief you may have, for me. Please?” The please leaves him on an almost whisper. Eyes not shying from yours as he awaits your verdict, his expression tense.

Perhaps you should hate this man, you should but you search yourself and you hold no hate for him to receive. Perhaps you have always been soft for him or perhaps… he’s earned a lifetime of regrets and you hardly wish to steal the remaining life out of a man who lives so burdened by his own past, you could never harbor ill-will towards him.

Breathing in to steady yourself, to make sure you are well and truly prepared, you move to place your hand in his outstretched one, accepting at last.

Arthur’s relief is instant, palpable “…Thank you.” He moves to guide you slow into his arms.

One careful hand settling at the shell of your hip — you realize, with some surprise, how his touch no longer burns or aches — as you two move to flit amongst the rest of the couples.

Silence is your companion for the next few moments before Arthur begins to speak, albeit halting. “I’m glad you and Theo are safe. I’m not quite sure what I would’ve done if you—” His voice breaks upon the words, abrupt and sharp on an inhale, as if he realizes how their continuation stands inappropriate now; faded fast as if mist fogged upon glass.

You see the slide of his Adam’s apple, — a slow, pained swallow — the downward tremulous twist to his mouth, cerulean gaze flitting about your face… you move to settle your hand at his shoulder, fingers pressing in; mute comfort.

At last, he splinters his silence once more. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save you that night. Proved myself far useless than a leaden sack of rice, didn’t I?”

You shake your head at his regret. “It wasn’t your fault, Arthur. I’m… glad you’re safe too.” Your eyes meet his and stay; the tension you’d felt threaded tight within muscle, beneath the fingers upon his shoulder, eases.

“Thank you.” He whispers once more, you’re not sure why he speaks them and you do not choose to question him either; moving quietly instead to the strains of the music.

“I gather you don’t wish for me to apologize—”

You shake your head. “Don’t.”

Arthur begins to speak once more, tone far flippant and casual, belying the nature of his statement. “Well then, that’s that, I believe. You’ve washed your hands of a rotten fool; quite right too. You’ve always been a tad too brilliant for me, luv.”

“Arthur—”

“Now, now, I don’t speak out of piteous self-loathing.” He shushes you with a gentle grin. “I just… I see you’re much happier now. That makes me happy. And you… you are, aren’t you?”

Your eyes meet across the pocket of space in between, cerulean gaze wrought with worries as it traces your features, waiting for you to speak. The one answer you’re more than sure of providing, “Yes… I am. I’m well.” Bated breath that leaves him at last, at your reply.

The smile that takes his face: relief, melancholy, surrender… love, you choose to turn your gaze away instead.

“Ah. Theo… that crafty bugger! For once, I think I’d quite enjoy punching the living daylights out of him.”

That extracts an unexpected smile, sheepish; you turn to look back up at him. “Please don’t do that, I think my heart’s had its fair share of seeing the two of you bruised and battered, for a lifetime.”

That smile, at last, you see it blossom into unburdened quiet laughter. “I’m positively gutted. But since you request so sweetly, I’ll spare the chap his medical bills.”

A man who made you so happy once upon a time; neither friend nor lover as he stands, your heart pulses with a gentle ache as you push those memories back deep and turn the lock on them, forever.

⚡⚡⚡

She’s dancing with Arthur.

A quick, sharp tug, a pinprick of pain follows that first bite of surprise he tamps down in a clench of teeth. Halting in his progress towards her. Dark possession lurches within him for a moment before Theo strangles it, quick and merciless. Turning on his heel to head for the open doors of the balcony, instead.

The cold of the night helps revive some semblance of sense into him. Back leaning against the balustrade, he watches the proceedings of a successful night — theirs — but his assistant isn’t by his side to relish in that celebration. That cold, envious demon whispers derision and anger at him once more.

He lets it burn through him for but a moment’s reprieve before the approaching figure of an encroaching guest draws him back. Leaning away from the railing, his moment of peace shattered, Theo clicks his tongue in mild irritation, turning to head inside. Before the figure sharpens in his vision, familiar, standing firm in his tracks. “Theo,” she says.

⚡⚡⚡

You’d searched for him after parting with Arthur. Fortunately le Comte had been kind enough to point you in the right direction with a smile that seeming so knowing, it made you halt in your steps. However, your immediate greeting upon finding Theo seemed to be his characteristic frown, before he murmured, “Hondje?”

You had to mince back that smile tugging at your lips, a desperate bite of teeth into lower lip, to witness the familiarity of your exchange. The first time you’d laid eyes upon this handsome, although brooding man following his older brother's sunny introduction and he’d stood just as he did now: an assessing gaze, a deeper frown and then, “Watch yourself, hondje. I’m not here to make ‘friends’ like Vincent.”

Watching that scowl in front, turn fiercer, “What’s got you so tickled?”

“I’m not saying.” You allow yourself a smile at last, moving to join him.

“Cheeky hondje. Think you’re so smug.”

Watching the swathes of gardens below — it’s a beautiful place — letting silence help your courage to speak. Important words need to be spoken. This exhibition might be your last; le Comte’s words of warning return to you in startling clarity. Danger might still be afoot for Theo. You might not see him for a long time after you return to the mansion tonight: a decision mulled over and taken the day le Comte had visited you with the news. You steal a glance his way; the thought warps into a terrible, seething ache; you steady a palm against your heart in hopes to mitigate it.

“You were with that klootzak. Did he say anything to you?” For a moment, you stared at him. You’d spoken to almost all the mansion residents in attendance and assured, as well as thanked every single man for inquiring after your well-being. Among them, as far as you were aware, Theo referred to only two of the vampires as such: William and…

He blew out a short breath. “Arthur… did he bother you?”

Oh. The question’s hardly an accusation and yet you feel as if you might as well have done deeds begetting guilt. “No, he… a mere check-in. He wanted to know how I was faring after... you know." A dismissive wave. "That’s all.” Words that feel as if spoken to re-assure him; for what purpose, you didn’t know. Theo might never come to share your feelings, it was a silly notion.

“Is that so.” Perhaps you wished for it hard enough; his posture seemed to soften with your words.

“Anyway,” Bringing palms together to break through stifling thoughts. “Congratulations on your successful exhibition, Theo. I’m so proud of what you’ve achieved!” And you were, reveling in the success as if it were your own.

“What’re you on about? It’s just as much your victory as mine. You worked hard there, hondje.” He reaches a hand towards and almost on instinct you’re tipping your head just that bit, for one of his ridiculous pats — your own heart thrills at the prospect, you almost smile at the silliness of wanting to be praised like the very puppy he claims you are. Those pets frustrated you so, once but now, each time Theo touches you… “Hey, I am not a little dog—” Your budding smile dies swift across your lips.

Theo’s touching you, lean fingers threading through loose locks before he slips them secure behind your ear. They brush their way back across your cheek in a caress, it breaks trembling sparks across your skin. Discomfited by the gesture, you can’t help but meet his gaze, staring up into those cobalt eyes — a dark, unsettled ocean — as if they might disentangle this… mess for you.

He grins, weak and muted though it seems by night’s velvet. “Now, you're looking at me.”

“What?”

“You haven’t noticed?" He snorts in derision. "You’ve refused to meet my gaze for longer than seconds for the past few days.”

“I have n—”

“Try lying again and you’ll bite through your tongue, hondje. Dishonesty doesn’t sit well against a frighteningly blunt one like you.” He exhales, tipping his gaze into the distance. “I don’t think it’s because you despise me—”

“I don’t! I could never hate you, Theo!” The refusal’s strong, far vehement than you wish it were but it garners his attention once more. “You’re being ridiculous…” you insist again.

A disastrously undoing smile pulls across that taut mouth; you heave your eyes away from the sight. “Hah… good to know.”

Restless hands; they refuse to still, you collect the courage to reach for his across the space, weaving fingers through his. He lets you. His hands, you marvel for a moment, at how they dwarf yours. His skin, course across his fingertips as you brush yours over; it brings you comfort as much as heat, to hold him.

Thoughts reeling temporary to how they’d grabbed for you in his moment of agony, how they’d held you close against a heated body, pushing you closer against his torso as his fangs, needle-sharp, traipsed across your neck.

Before he speaks, “I hear the Comte’s informed you of the situation.”

Heat siphon’s out of warm cheeks; fast and biting cold, your fingers tighten against his. Refusing to meet his gaze, refusing to hear him speak of leaving. Not yet. Not when you haven’t even told him the most important things…

“I can't say I don't agree with his assessment. Those posh bastards always seemed far too witless to try executing something this big without some sort of foreign obtrusion pulling the strings. So far, I don’t like the picture I’m seeing, one bit—Hey…” He softly raps a knuckle against your lowered head. “Are you paying attention, hondje?”

You bob your head in affirmation.

“Is that so?" Theo grunts. "Well then listen close. I want you to—”

You cannot.

“I’m sorry, Theo. I, I… I need a moment. I don't think I can.”

“What?” His sound of surprise compels a quick glance up at him, as if he’s struggling to comprehend a difficult statement.

“Le Comte's a good person, he’s agreed to let me back to work for him. I know I requested you be his first priority and I’m happy you agree—” You’re gibbering through words now, but you’d much rather speak now before he leaves.

“Yeah, I heard.” His voice seeps bitter sarcasm. “That was one incredibly stupid and selfish move. You didn’t think you might want to talk to me about it first?”

His words, that cool manner of speech, it stings and flames at an irrational anger. “What do you suggest be done then? Our ‘little gig’s’ over and I don’t want to be your piteous ward anymore! All I wish is to help keep you safe!”

That’s not what I want from us, your mind screams. I don’t want you chained as my guardian, I’ve never viewed you as such.

His eyes flash — brilliant, burnished sapphire — mouth drawing into a terrible line, the anger you see roiling beneath in great, simmering waves, leaves you lost for words. “Is that what you believe?" He asks quietly. "That I viewed you as some kicked waif, out of desire for needless charity? Hah, the joke’s vapid enough; I can’t even laugh about it.” You’ve never seen him as far from mirth as he does now; Theo looks as if you might’ve punched him — that joyless gaze seems to lose some of its ardor, he drifts backwards as if struck.

The look on his face pierces your heart far keener than a blade. “Theo—”

“Say hondje.” He interrupts. “Why’d you try and save me that night? One of us sure seems to be operating on some wildly inaccurate assumptions here.”

"Theo, this isn't..."

"I need an answer, hondje.... Was it compassion?"

That question strikes you, sharp as a slap, mind conjuring the accusation he refuses to outright hurl at you for your selfish decision. Hands feeling far colder for the loss of Theo’s warmth now that you no longer hold them. You’ve never felt as tenuous as you do now, as if you might be knocked over by another word from him. And perhaps the most appalling of all thoughts is one: you don’t regret your decision to save him.

“I’m so sorry…” An apology, for being unable to respect his wishes, for how you’d make that choice again without thought, no matter how many times you were forced to.

Theo’s expression turns hard; a barrier thrown in between strangers, you feel your heart breaking apart all over again, for the loss of him. “It’s fine,” he speaks at last, his voice as if scraped a hundred times over.

Watching the slow bob of his Adam’s apple as he looks down upon you, refusing to turn away as if he means to imprint your features onto memory, “Heat of the moment. You had no choice. You didn’t mean to. I get it now hah…” He seems to be muttering as if trying to convince himself of something.

You’re losing him, he’s letting go, slow but sure. You didn’t let go that night but now he’s the one releasing you; a frantic voice within seems to cry. You aren’t reaching him, no, he doesn’t understand—

“I meant to.” Extending a hand towards him; he avoids the touch…

“I heard you, hondje. It’s enough. Stop speaking.” A harsh bark of words; it sounds more plea to your ears.

…before indignation steals you captive and you reach forward to clench vexed digits into the lapels of his jacket and pull, harsh. "Look at me!" Forcing his gaze to yours, “It wasn't a passing whimsy. Do not dare make light of my decision! I wanted to save you and I will fucking do it again because I care for you, you hear me? You’re important to me, is that reason clear enough for you?!”

That sapphire gaze — bright, beautiful — wavers and shifts; wide, as if in disbelief, as if you might be an apparition materialized out of thin air. Mouth parting at last, as if he means to reply but you’ve just had enough of his bull-headedness.

Leaning forward to press your lips against the corner of his in a quick, fleeting kiss, your heart thrills at the sensation of intimately touching the man you’ve learned to love and fear for in equal measure. Even if it is your first and last. He’ll never know… “Curse me for eternity for all I care… I don’t regret it, you... you mulish idiot.” You wail. Throttling a sob back as you move to draw away.

But Theo refuses to let go, an unyielding grip across the back of your head, fingers easing through your hair as he holds close. Gaze as if cut of sharpened stone; intense it draws the breath from your lungs. His words weave low and heavy through the mere pocket of space in between your faces, “You called me an idiot.”

“That’s… that’s entirely beside the point.” You feel as if you’ve been mired in a constant dance, your breaths are difficult with the way he’s watching you, tipping his head as if in observation; the spark of feral hunger and distress, you’ve seen it once before—

His face steals closer, your heart’s thunderous beats almost deafening against his soft, chuckling exhale. Relieved. “Maybe I am.” A brush of his lips against yours, a testing edge; a soft whimper jumps from your throat at the contact.

“Say that again, hondje.” I need to hear you, his hooded gaze seems to whisper.

Strangling your fear of loss, fear of retribution, of hurt; thoughts that whisper countless ‘what ifs’ for another moment. No matter how you fear still, the feeling that trumps true in this moment....

“I am in lov—”

⚡⚡⚡

The sound that rattles free of him; a distant, heavy swear; Theo’s mouth crushes against hers filching words right off the softness of those lips beneath his. Her startled cry renders itself to complete incoherency, her hands, her body moving to work her own impatience off as they seek his. Her words bruising against his own heart until they settle into an echo of their own within, until he makes of it a glorious vision within his mind. And sighs against her mouth, her soft Theo dragging him back towards her just as swift as the fingers that tease themselves through his hair, calling closer.

Hooking an arm about her waist, he heaves her flush against himself until she’s a searing line; all soft against all his hardness. The taste of her is in his mouth, her body against his, hearts thundering he cannot discern if it is hers against him or his own surrender towards her.

“T-Theo, wait… does this mean—” She presses away, eyes glistening; her shoulders heave with her slight exhales, the passion of their frenzied movements still within fingers she combs through his hair as if reluctant to let go completely.

Insanely gorgeous even as she looks just about as not put-together as he’s ever seen her. And she’s allowed him to lay claim to that heart. After how he’d thought her confession earlier their last. Theo can hardly swallow the incredulity of that truth. It’s surreal; she’s surreal. It's hard to think she could ever believe him to harbor anything resembling dislike for her; what a slow little puppy he's got on his hands.

But what he is entirely done with, is holding back. And he does not hold back now.

Drawing her back towards him, Theo fits a palm against the back of her neck, warm and flushed — are there ways to yearn for her even more desperate than his desires now — her mouth fitting against his in an eager gasp he swallows into his own. Releasing his own crushed growl, of surrender: “Yes. Godverdomme, yes. I want you in every single way you can be mine. I have for so long.”

The sound that leaves her at his confession is sublime, a low, keening moan, it undoes his entire rationale. Theo’s spinning her around within his embrace until she’s crushed in between the harsh stone of a column and him — concealing them from sight — and yet, she seems to relish being pinned in place. Her hands, just as flittering across his neck, his shoulders, his jacket, popping open at buttons he couldn’t care less about. Just that she’s here, in his arms, soft and pliant and fragrant, it rips another groan free of him.

The brush of her tongue against aching fangs, a snick she teases him with on a soft moan as the burst of blood within their mouths makes them drown themselves within each other.

The vehemence of his love and desire, answered; he could go down on his knees for how she seems to fill his heart anew. His lips painting strokes against the line of her jaw, her neck. Her ear, he presses a guttural admission of love against it so she may never doubt it again. So he may never doubt it again.

Eyes drifting towards her neck, the bruisings of a light puncture mark; he’d fed on her, tasted of her so. Smoothing a thumb against the spot and she shivers; Theo moves to press a grin, burying a nibbling bite against the very place to hear her croon as well. “You are beautiful, shatje.”

Withdrawing slow on borrowed breaths; even as his own instincts claw away at the thought of being separated from her, he takes her in, his, within his arms. The tightening of tremulous digits against a bicep, the questions, her adoration and fear, he sees so clear, it makes Theo want to heave her close and into his arms and never let go. Witnesses how her heart tears at the temporary remembrance of memories of a relationship past in the way she whispers do not let go. As if he ever could, as if he were capable of it at all.

Theo seals his mouth against hers once more, returning her to softening within his arms, lax and pleasured and loved. Until she believes it too. Until the day she comes to accept his loyalty and heart as given rather than exceptions. One day soon.

Chapter 12.5: A Long Way to Tipperary

The night’s drifted into quietude; the lounge sits empty save for Arthur as he downs his second liquor bottle of the evening, pulled from the mansion’s cellar. Always fine quality, and strong enough he’s starting to lose his sense of self.

Perhaps Sebas would be kind enough to rouse him tomorrow morning but for now… he had no energy stocked to remove himself to the privacy of his room, the solitude suffices. A notebook tucked open across spread legs, he continues to scrawl — more gibberish than intelligence he assumes, he’d take care of it tomorrow. Tomorrow. Not. Now — another Holmes adventure for one of his young readers. A child with the common pox he'd helped take care of. The youngling’s visits had turned monthly to his little clinic located just at the outskirts of town, something of a little test of courage he’d picked once more, upon her gentle insistence.

And now that she was no longer part of him, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the one piece that made him feel just that less wretched.

Sweeping his glass off the coffee table to drown in another desperate gulp, he spots a pair of fine, immaculate shoes within his immediate line of sight. Arthur’s gaze skews up towards his visitor in loud delight. “By Jove, if it isn’t the generous Comte! Here to check up on your wayward scoundrel so soon?”

The Comte’s dignified figure, the expression he wears is hard to parse within his mind, an expected result of his intoxication but the implication of the Comte’s heavy silence is not lost on Arthur. “Calm down, dear old Daddy. I’ve been… obnoxiously good tonight, if I do say so myself.” Slurring the O and stretching the N of obnoxious; his speech is blunted garble at this stage.

And despite the stupor of his mind, the face le Comte angles at Arthur next sears with startling clarity within his vision; resigned pity. Arthur despises it and the way he prompts the Comte to look upon him that way.

“I sincerely hope you managed to apologize to her at least if not make your peace, Arthur.”

He can’t help but snort at that, loud and onerous. “She does not care for my apologies, Comte. And that is… I am perfectly fine with her conclusion. God knows she’s bloody sick of it now.”

His listener remains silent. The Comte is far too generous, Arthur thinks once more. Even as he refuses to relent that hard golden gaze of his. Fixed upon his sorry figure but... silent. Accepting his intoxicated drivel.

“Assuaging my thoughts however—” He breaks on a tremor of an exhale. “I don’t believe it possible to love someone quite as brilliant as her and then hope for peace, after.” He grins up at his companion but knows it’s registered as anything but when the Comte returns it with a knit of brows, in sorrow.

"I wish for her happiness, always."

Go to Chapters: 1-10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (End)

End Notes: Thank you for keeping me company for as long as you have, folks. Afbranden's journey is coming to an end within the next chapter and I am happy to have coddled this piece for as long as I did LOL. If you'd like to be tagged or removed from the tag list for this story alone, please feel free to let me know, friends.

The rest of my stories can be found within my masterpost here.

#ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp theo x reader #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikevamp theodorus #ikevam theo #ikevam theodorus #ikevam fanfic #ikevam arthur #ikevamp fanfiction #a pickle writes #pickle celebrates #you are so que(t)e

70 notes · View notes

mangolover · 3 years

Text

Creature of The Dark part 3 (Theodorus van Gogh x reader)

Find part one here

Find part two here

Title: Creature of The Dark (part 3)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire / Ikevamp / Ikevam

Pairing: Theodorus van Gogh x gn! reader, Vincent van Gogh x gn! reader (platonic)

Genre: Angst, comfort

Warnings: nightmares, not eating properly, mentions of losing job, mentions of being homeless, argument, dark thoughts, mentions of a unhealthy relationship (lack of comunication), depression(?), swearing, shouting, breaking glass, breaking porcelain, humilation, betrayal, snow, mentions of time

Spoilers: Theo’s route

Word Count: 2600+ (six pages...)

Part 2: Going to the gallery was a bad idea and you become aware of that after the same mistakes got repeated and sparked an argument. Now you are sitting on a bench in the park, feeling hopeless until a faimilliar figure comes to your aid.

Part 3: You secretly came back to the mansion with the help of the Vincent, and as much as he helped you, it all came crashing down when you were discovered by Theodorus. Now all that’s left is to finally find the shadow in the darkness.

This has some first person perspective, but it’s mostly 2nd perspective.

Dark thoughts are going to be present throughout whole series, so proceed with caution.

Only nightmares are explored a bit deeper, everything else is pretty much just mentioned, but if anything is triggering to you, please skip this one.

Also, when somthing is writen like this ('example'), it's from the suitor's point of view or their thoughts, not reader's.

I am making this in multiple parts, temptation won this time.

Enjoy!

Pointing to the place on bench next to you, he asks “may I sit here?“ And you just nod while scooping away, wanting to give him as much space as possible. “Thank you, Y/n!”

Vincent was always a reliable friend and a sense of comfort would wash over you whenever you saw his angelic smile. He and Theo were like hell and heaven, polar opposites. However, you were glad to have someone like Vincent to call your friend. ‘Or is he your friend anymore?’

“How have you been?” you looked up at Vincent who was staring I front of him, his hands placed on his lap and you mirrored his actions, straightening your posture and averting your gaze before answering.

“I’ve been good. I found a job and a place to stay. But I think it’s time to go back to my own time” you tried to sound as casual as possible, hoping you hid your emotions well, just like Theo always did.

“And how are you doing now?” but Vincent could see through a mask even as good as Theo’s.

“I…” you considered your next words, “I could be doing better. Some obstacles came along the way, but don’t worry! It’ll be better soon!” you turned towards him and gave him a strained smile, not knowing who you are trying to fool exactly. You were lying to both of you, but that was for the best.

Vincent turned to look at you with a worried expression. He was suspicious because you stayed there last night and now you didn’t even go ‘home’. “How about we go pick something to eat? For old time’s sake.”

You were about to refuse before Vincent gave you a dazzling smile and extended his hand out to you, “I’m not taking no for an answer, Y/n.” That was the end of the story as you took his hand and Vincent took you to get something to eat in a nearby café that was surprisingly still open.

Once you were seated and ordered your food and drink of choice, after Vincent insisted it was his treat, you fell into a somewhat comfortable silence. There was still tension in the air, no doubt, but it was better than when you were with Theo.

“I’m sorry for leaving without a proper explanation to all of you except Comte” you broke the silence with a voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s alright” to your surprise Vincent didn’t sound mad, his voice and face were full of understanding. “We were worried when even Comte couldn’t find you but considering how Theo was acting when you left and today’s situation, I understand.”

You let a smile grace your features, “thank you Vincent.”

“But please, don’t disappear on us again. The mansion is not the same without you” he looked sincerely sad. “Do you have a place to stay the night?” his voice was low and warm.

“O-of course! I told you I found a place to stay” you are sure your stutter sold you out.

Vincent didn’t even need to say anything, he just gave you a stern look and you lowered the gaze, embarrassment painting your face. “I don’t…”

“You can always come back to the mansion; I’m sure Comte would understand.”

“That is not an option. I left and cut contact with everyone” you let out a sigh. “Why do you even want to have anything with me?” Vincent looked at you in surprise. (‘Just how much have you suffered this 4 months Y/n?’)

“Because you are my friend. And we all care about you.” His reasoning was simple, but you couldn’t understand it. ‘Just why?’

“I don’t think going back to the mansion is a good idea” Vincent was ready to hear you out, always a shoulder to lean on. “Arthur will be there and he might be upset with me because Theo is his best friend. And I left Sebastian when he needed me the most. Isaac just started opening up to me and then I left. And Mozart will be annoyed by all the commotion.” You dreaded to tell who you feared to see the most, “and Theo will be there and I doubt it’s a good idea for us to see each other again.”

Vincent went quiet for a moment before speaking again, seemingly trying to work out the best solution. “The door doesn’t open for at least two more weeks. And I can’t let you sleep outside, so how about for at least tonight stay in the mansion?”

You felt uneasiness even if you knew Vincent just wanted the best for you. “I could sneak you in and you can stay in my room so others won’t notice you.”

Even if he knew that explaining why he was sneaking someone into his room last night was going to be tough and that he’s going to have to lie, he was ready to do anything for you.

“Do you promise I am not bothering?” you wanted to make sure he is one hundred precent sure about what he’s offering. Vincent nodded firmly just as your food came to your table and you both dug in, for once in so long you didn’t feel so alone.

Once you were both done eating and Vincent settled the bill, you made your way outside. Snow started falling outside and both you and Vincent enjoyed the view of the first now of a year for a bit. The snowflakes danced around the sky and landed everywhere, one of them landed on the tip of your nose which made Vincent laugh.

To him you looked like an ethereal angel in that moment. He understood why Theo had fallen for you, but to him you will never be more than a friend or a sister that he so desperately wants to protect from this cruel world, no matter the price.

Eventually, you fetched a carriage and started to make your way deep into the woods where Comte’s residence stood tall and hidden from the eyes of common folk. The long ride continued into the night, to which you were grateful as it gave you a bit more of a cover. Now all you needed was to be sneaky and you could go unspotted. Vincent draped his coat over your shoulders to conceal you even more. Wrapping his hand around your wrist, he guided you into the mansion and into his room, checking that the path was always clear of any other residents.

Everything was going smoothly until he opened the door of his room and saw Arthur down the hall, quickly he pushed you into the room and shut the door behind you signaling you to keep quiet and all you two could hear was a whistle and a quiet chuckle as Arthur’s footsteps faded away.

“That was close” Vincent let out a breath he had been holding before smiling at you.

“I’m sorry Vincent,” you were feeling embarrassed and guilty, “knowing Arthur, everyone will know you sneaked someone in the next morning and Theo will not let you off the hook so easily.”

Vincent gazed at you for a bit before bopping the tip of your nose and letting out a giggle. “I told you it was alright, now go get settled for the sofa. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You can’t be serious Vincent. I was ready to sleep outside on a bench, even the floor is perfectly fine for me.”

In the end, you two agreed that he can sleep on the floor, but he gets the blanket and the pillow from the sofa. He turned out the lights and you stared through the big window in his room. The moon cast its light and illuminated everything. ‘Maybe this was why Vincent became a painter? So he could etch the images like this onto the canvas, marking them for all eternity.’ Sleep won’t be coming to you anytime soon, but you just hoped nightmares won’t chase you once again.

However, your hope was all in vain.

Nightmares of losing Theo to L’Académie. Him yelling at you while you are shaking in the corner, his fangs out making him look like a monster. Each time you opened your eyes from one nightmare, another one came as soon as you closed them again. The last one was everyone you knew, even your own self laughing at you as you were freezing, telling you it’s your fault for burning bridges and trying to act like you’ve got it all together. You woke up with tears in your eyes and you gasped as you woke up, you started hyperventilating and it must’ve woken up Vincent because he was crouching next to you in a flash, one hand holding yours and other on your back, rubbing in soothing motion.

“That’s right, just deep breaths Y/n, it was just a nightmare” he probably had experience when Theo had nightmares when they were kids. “I’m here okay, just relax.” Your breathing got regular in a few minutes before you flung your arms around Vincent and sobbed in his shoulder. He only pulled you closer in his embrace and let you cry it out. You were under a lot of stress and it was normal for you to break at one point. At least he was there to be your rock.

“Do you want me to go get you something?” he asked you in a soft voice once you got a hold of yourself.

“No, thank you, I don’t need anything.” You smiled at his kindness. “Thank you for helping me calm down.”

“Always Y/n, that’s what friends are for” the warmest smile was on his lips.

“Could…” you were embarrassed to ask him, but maybe that would help you finally get some peaceful sleep. “could you sleep with me on the sofa? You don’t need to if you’re uncomfortable, you’ve already done so much-“

“Scoot over” he picked up the blanket and the pillow. Covering you with the blanket, he wrapped his arm around you and leaned into your back. “Sweet dreams, Y/n.”

“Thank you, Vincent, sleep well!”

This time you had a dreamless sleep, but you were grateful Vincent made sure you were comfortable, even if it’s only for one night. Now the pressing question was, what to do in the morning? It will be harder to leave and what if Arthur recognized you? He was extremely smart individual. You let out a sigh as you woke up when the sun has already started climbing the sky. ‘Damn it! I missed my chance to slip unnoticed!’ But what to do now? You hoped Vincent had any idea, but he wasn’t here?

If anyone walks in, you are doomed. Even worse if they see you laying on his sofa. You were Theo’s old lover, not his brother’s. As you stood in the middle of the room panicking, regretting every choice that got you to this point, the door started opening and you froze on the spot. ‘Come on God, kill me now so I don’t have to suffer any longer.’ However, to your surprise it was just Vincent, bringing you breakfast.

“You startled me” you let yourself relax a bit when Vincent closed the door behind him.

“Arthur asked about ‘the mysterious person that went into my room last night’.” Oh no… “I asked him not to tell anyone and that nothing happened.” Knowing Arthur, Theo already knows and is just trying to process everything.

“I-“

“Don’t even think about apologizing. It’s okay” it’s like he read your mind. “I also asked Comte about the door and about you.” He handed you the breakfast and you gladly accepted it.

“He told me that if any of us has seen you, we can bring you back to the mansion if you ever need anything. Our home is always going to be your home too.” You carefully mulled over Comte’s alleged words in your mind. Still, there were 9 more vampires who probably didn’t want anything to do with you. “I haven’t seen Theo, though.”

Once again you felt like you hit a dead end. Only this time, there was a wall behind you and you had nowhere to go. Whatever you choose, it’s not going to end well. But you know you are going to have to confront either the residents or Theo once he barges into Vincent’s room.

Maybe it’s better if you go and thank Comte before leaving, new day’s a new chance after all, right?

“Could we go see Comte?” you were ready for rejection, but to your surprise Vincent beamed with happiness. (‘That’s it Y/n, baby steps.’) “I want to thank him for everything and apologize for coming unannounced.”

“Sure, but first finish your breakfast” he sat down on the sofa, looking relaxed as ever. “You need to regain your strength.”

You wanted to answer, but your mouth was full and you didn’t want to accidentally spit some food onto the angelic painter that got you this far. Vincent laughed as you struggled to swallow and reply.

“You are going to choke if you don’t eat it properly!” Vincent scolded you.

“Sor-“ however you were cut off by door slamming open and Theo and Arthur barging in.

You jumped out of surprise, the plate in your hands fell out of your hands, porcelain shattering into million pieces, just like your heart. The color was drained out of your face as if you saw a ghost. A lump came to your throat and restricted your breathing, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, a cold sweat coated your body.

Vincent jumped as well, a deeply rooted panic only getting worse when he realized just who has come unannounced. His younger boer and his author friend. The same shock could be seen on Theo’s face, eyes darting between you and Vincent. What is he thinking? ‘Does he think me and Vincent slept together? Or worse, does he feel betrayed? And what about Arthur? Vincent can hold Theo off, but I have no chance against the two of them.’

Even if the old clock kept on tickling, the precious time getting lost like sand in wind, it seemed as if everything stopped. No one moved a muscle anymore. Breathing stopped. Even Arthur was speechless, his emotions finally out in the open, he seemed confused, almost hurt. ‘But that’s just your mind playing tricks on you, right Y/n?’

Theo finally broke the trance and Vincent instinctively took a step back towards you, trying to shield you from their eyes.

“What?” is all Theo muttered, however. It seemed like he wasn’t even mad, just utterly confused, betrayed. “What’s the meaning of this? Boer what is Y/n doing in your room?!” He raised his voice and you flinched. But neither you nor Vincent found the voice to explain just what’s happening. Letting out a sigh and casting his glance down, Theo walked away, his pace fast, his strides long and his nails cutting into his palms. The commotion brought Leonardo and Sebastian to Vincent’s room and you felt like you might pass out. Your worst nightmares came to life and now Vincent needs to pay the price as well.

One casted glance from Vincent over his shoulder was however all you needed to find the strength and courage to run past the stunned vampires and the butler, following into the direction Theo went.

You don’t have a plan; you almost never did. However, all you know is that Theo needs to understand and that silence won’t bring you two anywhere. You followed him out of the mansion and into the woods.

There are shadows in the dark, you finally remember that and you are ready to show that to your lover as well, it’s now or never.

30 notes · View notes

juminly · 4 years

Text

Sweet Dreams

Pairing: Theodorus Van Gogh x Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: mutual masturbation, semi-clothed sex, grinding, fingering, biting, praise, sleepy sex, domestic fluff.

Summary: Theodorus is finally home and he has missed you, his wife, so much. He couldn’t wait until you woke up to shower him with the love that he craved and desperately needed. A/N: Another small contribution to Kinktober and my submission for Theo’s Route Countdown Party hosted by @delicateikemenmemes . –♥– “Princess…” Your lover calls out to you in your dreams. His voice seemed like a distant memory yet so real, you could feel his breath tickling the shell of your ear and the yearning dripping from his voice. You knew he wasn’t there, this was just a fabrication of your deepest of thoughts, your subconscious materializing your desires into semblances that felt too real. “I need you… Love… Please, wake up.” With a chaste kiss pressed on your shoulder, soft lips careened solemnly over the silk of your skin, your heart fluttering under the verity that this dream-like illusion had to you would gladly succumb to. Gentle traces of love painted over the canvas of your figure, reminiscent of the comfort of dusk in loving arms, light nips awakening the softest of blemishes before reaching your nape. Opening your eyes, you blinked them blearily… this felt so familiar. This happened so many times before. A pattern of your quotidian, one of the many seeds of happiness that bloomed in your heart. You were not met by the sight of him, yet, all your senses welcomed him. At last, my love has come along... Theo was finally back… The scent of his worn-off cologne tinged with the forlorn sweetness of whiskey that you sampled from his lips. The scales had been tipping in favour of your fatigue, your eyes falling shut before a silent moan caught in your throat and he suckled on the tender skin of your neck. “Theo…” you mumbled, coming to the realization that this wasn’t one of your frequent dreams of your lover. He was finally back from those dreadful trips… They only felt so dreary when he had to spend so much time away from you. You sighed softly as you let your train thoughts pull you away further away into the lands of unconsciousness that you fought to leave. The less time you spent together, the more you longed for him, ached for him and felt an emptiness that no one could fill, a thirst that nothing could quench but… him. However, it was all worth it. Seeing the look of satisfaction on his handsome visage as he recounted to you all that he had achieved, going leaps and bounds closer to making his passion, his dreams come true by helping others fulfill their own. “Yes, darling… I’m here.” He was now the man that pouted for a sliver of your attention, who demanded the love he earned as your husband and reciprocated the care he so abundantly gave you in his own dismorphed way. As your slumber threatened to steal you away from him, the smooth brush of his knuckles tracing the curve of your thighs was a gentle declaration of war in tandem with the kisses that he painted over each and every vertebrae his lips could touch, with veneration that could only belong to him. Fervent hums of your name were the only melody Theodorus would ever chant in the darkest hours of the night. “I’m sorry to wake you, princess…” he whispered apologetically, halting the cascade of kisses on your back momentarily to utter those words, his emotions brimming in every syllable, emotions that he would usually painstakingly try to mask and contain, even hide. He didn’t have to. Not with you. “I missed you…” a despondent declaration that he muttered willingly, laden with fervour that was deepened by your mutual absence. “I missed you too, baby… Welcome home, Theo.” The corner of your lips twisted into a smile of utter delight. Nothing could ever compare to the happiness that this man brought to your life. He was everything to you and you reminded yourself, every single day, that he had opened his heart to you when he had intended to keep it locked for as long as he could… before the key became your most prized possession. “I never thought that I would ache to hear those words…” he exhaled heavily, the huskiness of his voice mirroring the sleepiness of your own. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, mijn liefje. Every gallery we went to, every person I’ve spoken to… I just wanted to see you. I just wanted you to be there. You’ve made it so hard for me to be away from you…” A deep sigh streaked with an ache that mirrored your own escaped his lips while you listened avidly to his confessional rumination. “I don’t know what to do with you… Being here… with you is the only place where I feel… whole.” If only you had more energy to requite his affections as he just had… You didn’t even have to turn around and look behind you to see those cerulean orbs, waves of crystal blue water hardened by ardour and longing. “I… I told you, Theo..” You yawned as quietly as you could manage, squealing as you arched your back, stretching it a bit in an attempt to shake off the stiffness of your drowse. “I love you… and.. You can do whatever you want with me.” A small shiver coursed through, inciting a low chuckle from your husband as his hand reached your hip, his index hooked around the waistband of your navy satin shorts, tugging on the fabric tentatively, the silent gesture filled with much promise. “You sound so exhausted, Theo… you need to…...you need rest.” “I actually did sleep like shit…”. he grumbled as he nuzzled your neck, inhaling sharply before breathing out shakily, the warm air eliciting a tingling sensation starting from your nape and slowly coursing through the length of your body. “I‘ve barely been able to get a few hours in.” In other words, your husband was trying to tell you that he couldn’t sleep well without having you near, cuddled in his arms, your head resting on his chest or even when he would nestle himself in your embrace. That’s how it always was. That’s how it always will be. “I’ll make it better, baby.” A sleepy promise but one that you would make sure to keep.

“I want you to… Please.” Your haughty lover pleaded with gruff murmurs, his hunger for you so tangible, the slight tremble of his arm didn’t go unnoticed as he wound it under your waist, pulling you to him, your bodies finally flush against each other, his hand snaking down your satin camisole, tracing his calloused fingers over your stomach up to your chest before enveloping one of your breasts, the cold metal of his ring sending a sweet chill on your warmed skin as it brushed your sensitive bead. “I want to be inside you, love… feel your sweet cunt tighten…” he groaned at the thought as his hips finally met yours, the hard imprint of his cock pressed against your behind while he tended to your breast, caressing the bottom of your soft mound with pendular strokes “...suck me in while I fill you up so good.” Heavens, you’ve missed him so much but the damned demon of sloth had possessed you and Theodorus was your devilish angel rousing you from his hold while gracing you with his love under the guise of his own selfish whims. Winding your fingers around the back of his palm, you lead him to the warmth of your mouth, your tongue gliding over the length of his index and middle finger before sucking on the tips, swirling around them lazily. You smiled as a low shaky chuckle resounded in his chest, his relief was so palpable and you were more than willing to give him more. “You always take such good care of me, don’t you, baby girl?” You absently nodded in agreement but he knew that you agreed without having to do or say anything. There was nothing you wanted more than to take care of your man. In that moment. “Suck it like you mean it, baby…” You gleefully complied, the silence of your room mixed with your husband’s loud breathing, his chest heaving against your back as you pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth, circling the length of his digits with your wet muscle. “Godverdomme… I wish your mouth was on my cock right now.” You rocked your hips back and forth, grinding against your love with innocent purpose as he did the same, relishing in any friction he could get from you while he began pumping his fingers in and out of your mouth, mimicking the same rhythm your bodies followed. Reaching behind you, you traced the V line of his lower abdomen… God, you wanted to lick your way down those taut muscles as you felt them contract under your nimbleness. You smiled sleepily at the power that you held over your lover, even in the drowsy state that you were in. Pushing down his boxers, you finally freed his aching cock, Theo hissing sharply as you wrapped your fingers around his girth and thumbing at his slit, allowing more of the precum oozing from his tip to slide down his length. With bated breath, your lover ran his tongue to draw a long strip over the shell of your ear. “You’re going to be a good little Hondje and give me exactly what I need, my princess?” You keened in response at the evident contradiction in his tone, the dominance he failed to exude as his emotions caught up to him. The answer was obvious and your body would do all the talking, and his would too. Grinding back against him, needy groans were all you could hear as he readied your body for his taking. Each roll of your hips, each touch and every stroke was a silent vow to consume you as he searched for signs and probed your body in all the right places. The embers of your burning desire would soon go aflame. Just as he was making sure you were ready for him, you would have to do the same. You began squeezing your palm and releasing in alternation, rubbing small circles around and over the head of cock, feeling him shiver behind you as he finally pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a resounding pop, sliding his arms over the curves of your waist and bringing his hand under your shorts and between your thighs. “No underwear, hm?” You didn’t even bother to reply to his teasing tone, he knew very well why you were not wearing any underwear, waiting for this exact moment to take place. Without wasting a moment and pushing your folds apart, Theodorus traced the length of your core, feeling the ghost of a pulsating with the newfound attention, an ache growing in your core in anticipation as he covered you with the slickness of your own mouth. “I love you so much…” He whispered huskily in your ear before ensnaring your earlobe between his teeth, feeling the tip of his fangs poke your flesh. “You drive me absolutely mad, mijn lieftse…” You closed your eyes, imagining how enthralling your husband looked as they protrude past his blood slicken lips. Wet with your blood. The thought alone had more of your desire pooling at your core while Theo dragged his fingers up and down your core, the lingering strokes on your clit making you squeeze his cock in your palm, his ragged gasp blessing your ears as you began pumping his length at an unsteady pace. “How many times did you touch yourself when you were gone, Theo...” you croaked as teasingly as you could, your voice betraying you as it cracked, the kindling heat of pleasure troubling your senses. “More times than I could count…” An animalistic growl drawing out of him as his hips rocked against your palm in subdued haste as he fucked the softness you offered. The fingers that brushed the weight of your breasts were now circling around your nipple, brushing over it with teasing strokes as it hardened under his willful ministrations. “Too.. many… times..” the occasional squeeze on his cock made his words falter on the tip of his tongue, stuttering in a manner that made you want to see him, feel him and hear him completely fall apart. “I’ll just have to make it up to you...” You vowed lovingly, wishing that you could see the expression on his but he had you imprisoned in his grasp, not giving you a chance to turn around but only writhe from the onslaught on your core. Your eyes fell shut, imagining how you would tease yourself with his hard cock between your legs, glossing it with your essence as he called you out for the naughty Hondje that you truly were before he plunged deep inside you. “It’s good to be home, baby girl...” He sucked on your earlobe gently, feeling his lips form a smirk as he made you squeal by pinching your sensitive nipple before massaging and squeezing the breast in his grasp with a little too much force, which you didn’t mind. “You’re still not ready....” he reminded you as he gently teased your entrance, probing it with the tip of his index. Bringing his attention back to your neck, Theo bestowed wet kisses along the column of your throat, latching on to your delicate skin with deep sucks and nips which he smoothed over and over with his tongue. His love and affection were abundant yet the pleasure he gave you was teasing and merciless all the same, as it had always been. Yet, you know… it was all for you. He wanted to enjoy himself with you. “Not yet… But I will be… soon. ” Shaking your head as a mewl escaped from you, Theo began rubbing tight circles over your sensitive nub, your body responding to him in kind, always at his beck and call. “I’m almost there… Ahh, yes, Theo… right there!” The pad of his coated fingers shocked your body as they settled in a dizzying oscillating motion, painfully slow yet enough to lure you into an ephemeral trance, teetering in the ebb and flow of the building release. You continued to do the same, inviting him with your palm to the edge that he sought, twisting your wrist and pumping his aching cock, smearing it with more of his essence that dripped from him, the grunts falling from his lips enough to spur you on. Finally slipping not only one, but two fingers inside your aching core, he scissored them as your walls clench needily around him, the quivering of your legs becoming more visible, the lazy rock of your hips growing faster as you chase for the love that Theo was so willing to give. “No need for introductions, Theo…” You cried out as your body began to writhe in his embrace, his arm growing even tighter around your waist, making even harder to breathe. Sucking almost desperately on the crook of your neck, his hips rolled against you in a more urgent yet stammering pace, the friction was clearly not enough. He needed more and so did you. “It’s… enough… I can take it, Theo...” you whined beseechingly. “Hmm.. Just a little more, princess.” He croaked painfully, stubbornly prolonging the bittersweetness of your desire. “I want you dripping for me.” He wasn’t teasing you, applying the right amount of pressure that you needed on your clit with his thumb while he inserted a third finger inside you, stretching you even wider, yet the fullness was nothing near how he felt inside you. “One of the many things I love about you… You’re always so ready for me…” His tactfulness was a testament to the urgency that had been tamed by your imminent slumber yet the pleasure of your impending climax had your brain swimming. Dragging the tip of his fingers along the walls of your walls, he slowly removed them from inside you and you whined loudly in frustration, your cunt clenching against the nothingness that your husband had caused and had yet to fill. “Theo… Please… I’ve had enough… Just put it in.” Your lust finally broke through the remnant languidness of your body. Your impatience won, taking reign of your impulsive actions while you and your husband allowed your instincts to overwhelm you. Pulling down your shorts slightly, you wriggled out of the smooth piece of satin, parted your thighs and arched your back while pushing your butt on Theo, hearing him grunt as he slid his cockhead between your drenched folds before settling at your entrance. “I’m happy to be home with you, my love...” A loving whisper mixed with a snarl, the tip of his fangs digged into the sweet spot in the crook of your neck, an euphoric shock coursing through your being as his hips finally snapped forward, his cock sinking into you with ease. Wanton moans of his name and rough groans echoed in your moonlit room as he sheathed himself fully, your warmth sucked him into the slice of heaven that you shared… even better than what you could the pure bliss of the sweetest of dreams. –♥– For some reason, this fic is not appearing in the tags so if you liked this fic, every reblog is appreciated!!

Please feel free to leave comments/feedback!💜 Masterlist

Tagging @shhhlikeme @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @nafeary @cinnatwisted @nad-zeta @mariahambleton @sadshaxk @raymiazaki @simulationone @stehkotori @waffleareniceandfluffy 💜

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus van gogh #ikemen vampire smut #theodorus van gogh #Theo's route countdown party #ikevam theo #ikevamp smut #theodorus van gogh smut #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikevamp theo x reader #ikemen vampire theodorus x reader #kinktober #ikemen vampire kinktober #ikevamp kinktober #ikevamp theo smut

285 notes · View notes