I love all things horror and all things gothic .𖥔 ݁ ˖
right now I’m obsessed with the movies .𖥔 ݁ ˖
Nosferatu
Sinners
Sleepy Hollow
Crimson Peak
Alice In Wonderland
Dracula A Love Tale
A Interview With A Vampire movie and show
Honestly anything jack O’Connell related
I love watching YouTube as well or listening to podcasts here’s a few that are my fav .𖥔 ݁ ˖
Papa Meat
TurkeyTom
Markipler
Wendigoon
Rotten Mango
Kurtis Conner
.˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚ Blog Info .˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚
I’ll mainly will reposting anything I like, art, gifs, fanfic etc. I will be posting teasers of my fanfics and one-shots I write.. Don’t be afraid to asking or recommend me things it’s very welcomed here!
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So how has everyone been doing?! I've just been sleeping mostly 😛 wbu? Also this is bigfoot he has extra toes 😊 he is 1/4 of my kitties, one of my babies are having to go to the vet I felt a lump in his tummy 😭
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i don't think i have a favorite jacko character guys i am always so impartial about it and it's not like i'm posting about the same loser guy every single day y'know
'' the Knight that took lives but his own,because sooner or late the sun burned away his flesh in the heat of a thousands.''
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WIP of a big piece,but couldnt wait to not share,,,
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You guys don't even know how excited I am for this!
I love the VVitch, the lighthouse, Nosferatu like them movies did something to me I love them, and Lilly rose depp is so of my favorite actors along side her father ♡😫
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A/N - Back after my break with the poll winner 🖼️ Museum date it is. Soft fluff, flirting, and a little more of them letting their guard down. Thank you for waiting — I missed writing these two. Hope you enjoy the longer one 💌
Jack: museum then? figured you’d pick the fish so you could hide in all that pretty blue light instead of looking at me, but alright love
You: Bold of you to assume I’d need hiding spots
Jack: cheeky as ever. see you at 2, trouble. don’t overthink the outfit too much — you always look like you stepped out of one of those paintings anyway 😉
A few minutes later your phone buzzes again.
Attachment:
Jack: proper trying tonight. don’t laugh at the shirt, it’s the nicest thing I own that isn’t a hoodie 😂 how do I look, love?
You smile at the photo, heart warm. He looks handsome older in that comforting, grounded way, but with that boyish Derby sparkle in his eyes. You send back a quick mirror selfie of your own outfit a soft, flowy blouse in a pretty muted tone with delicate details, paired with comfortable trousers and your favourite boots pretty enough for a museum but still you.
You: You clean up nice, old man. I like the shirt.
Jack: old man?! cheeky. hurry up and get here so I can tell you in person how gorgeous you look
⋆.ೃ𐦍*:･⋆𐦍.ೃ࿔*:･
The afternoon light sits soft and golden on the wide stone steps when you arrive. Jack spots you immediately, his whole face lighting up with that crooked grin. He meets you halfway, pulling you into a warm hug that lingers, one hand rubbing gentle circles on your back.
“Fuck me, you look beautiful,” he murmurs against your hair, Derby accent thick and fond. “That blouse… it’s perfect on you. Pretty but still soft. Makes me feel lucky as hell you keep saying yes to me.”
You lean into the hug a second longer, feeling safe and warm in his arms. “Missed this. Missed you, if I’m honest.”
His arms tighten around you before he lets go, eyes soft. “Yeah? Good. Because I’ve been missing you something awful.” He offers his arm, fingers brushing yours as you slip your hand into the crook of his elbow like it’s the most natural thing in the world now.
Inside, the museum feels like stepping into another world vast vaulted ceilings with intricate mouldings, golden afternoon light filtering through tall windows and casting long, dreamy shadows across polished marble floors. The air carries the faint, comforting scent of aged wood, canvas, and stone. Soft footsteps echo gently as you wander from gallery to gallery, the quiet hush wrapping around you like a shared secret.
In the first grand hall with deep red walls, dramatic sculptures dominate the space: a powerful marble group capturing a fierce struggle, muscles taut and frozen in motion, and nearby a contemplative seated figure gazing into the distance. Large gilded paintings loom above them crowded scenes of feasts and battles glowing under warm lamps. Jack stops you in front of one particularly striking portrait, standing so close his shoulder brushes yours and stays there.
“She’s got that same spark you do,” he starts, then laughs at himself a beat too long, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean— she looks like she’d give you proper lip if you stepped out of line. Like when you call me old man and I still show up anyway.”
You laugh softly and nudge his side, letting your hand slide down to lace your fingers with his. “This one looks like he’d drag you out for a pint and then scold you the whole time.”
Jack chuckles, the sound warm and rumbling, but there’s a nervous edge to it as he glances at you. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and lifts it just enough to brush a quick kiss across your knuckles. His lips are warm and slightly chapped from the cool air outside, the stubble on his jaw grazing your skin for the briefest second. When he looks up at you, his eyes are steady and intense all at once that warm crinkle at the corners, the way they linger on your face like you’re the most interesting thing in the whole museum, like he’s memorising every little detail and still can’t quite believe you’re here with him. Your stomach flips hard, a rush of warmth spreading through your chest as your cheeks grow hot under his gaze. For a second you almost say it I keep waiting for this to feel less scary, but with you it doesn’t but the words catch in your throat. You swallow them down, squeezing his hand instead.
“You’d look stunning in something like that dress…” he says, voice lower now, almost a murmur, then fumbles with a sheepish grin, “—or, y’know, whatever you’re wearing. I’m shit at this smooth bit. But I like this version of you better. Real. Soft. Mine to flirt with in fancy museums… even if I bollocks it up half the time.” His thumb keeps tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand as you keep walking, the touch easy and familiar now, even as your heart keeps racing from the look he just gave you.
Later, while wandering through another hall, Jack leans in trying to whisper something smooth “Bet I could carry you out of here like one of those statues if—” only to get gently shushed by a passing museum worker. He freezes mid-sentence, cheeks going faintly pink, then lets out a quiet, embarrassed laugh that makes you grin so wide your face hurts.
You drift into the sunlit landscape galleries with sweeping vistas rolling moors under stormy skies, quiet forests dappled with light, distant mountains fading into mist. In one particularly beautiful piece, the colours feel alive, wild and deep. You pause longer in front of it, tilting your head as golden light catches the brushstrokes.
“I love how it feels alive,” you say quietly, almost to yourself. “Like you could step into it and get lost for hours… but still feel safe somehow.”
Jack doesn’t answer right away. He just watches you, eyes soft and attentive, a small smile playing at his lips. “That’s exactly how you look at things,” he murmurs after a moment, voice low and warm. “Like you see all the wild bits and still find the safe, beautiful parts. It’s one of my favourite things about you.” His fingers tighten gently around yours as he steps closer, shoulder pressed to yours while you both take in the painting together.
In a quieter gallery filled with softer, more romantic scenes, you pause at a painting of two figures walking together through a garden at dusk. Jack’s arm slips around your waist, holding you close as you both look. “Could be us one day,” he says quietly, almost shy, then immediately looks away, not quite meeting your eyes like he’s suddenly worried he said too much.
The words land soft and heavy in your chest. You look up at him, searching his face for a second, surprised by how vulnerable he let himself sound. He means it. The realisation makes your heart do something complicated and warm. You don’t push you just lean into his side a little more and whisper, “I’d like that.”
He smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes, and presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m not planning on letting this slip away.”
In the final sculpture hall, surrounded by marble figures reaching toward each other in eternal tenderness, Jack slows to a stop. He turns you gently to face him, one hand settling at the small of your back while the other comes up to tuck your hair behind your ear. His forehead nearly rests against yours, breath warm and steady in the quiet glow of the lights.
“Been thinking about us a lot,” he murmurs. “Not rushing anything… but this feels right. You feel right.” His fingers stay gentle on your back, holding you close as the museum lights glow around you both. You rise onto your toes and kiss the corner of his mouth softly. He smiles against your lips and pulls you into a full, warm hug arms wrapped around you tight. He hums a low, content little sound in the back of his throat and sways you both gently side to side. Then, almost embarrassed, he mutters against your hair, “Don’t make fun of me… but I don’t really want to leave yet.”
You laugh softly, the sound muffled against his shoulder, and pull him a little tighter. “Me neither,” you whisper back. The two of you stay like that a while longer, wrapped up in the quiet glow of the museum, neither in any rush to let the moment end.
Summary: There is a beast coming after you. And he only wants to make you feel incredible.
Tags: dead dove: do not eat, non-con, minor character death, dark!Remmick, animalistic!Remmick, hunter / prey, blood drinking, biting, aphrodisiac / paralytic spit, mating press, monsterfucking, knotting, possessiveness, forest floor sex, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, mind break, p in v, dry humping, kissing
Author's Note: @thlaylisden HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY !! 🎂🎉🎉 I hope you had a fantastic day ! I'm always excited to see your art on my dash--so fluid and gorgeous. It has been great getting to know you and I hope you enjoy this monsteriffic fic for your birthday 💞
Phew that's two bday fics done. Dark ones too 😅 I swear I can write sweet things as well, BUT NOT TODAY. I think I'm gonna switch to drawing for a bit, I haven't finished a drawing in a long while and I miss it!!
Credits: Title from Run Rabbit - Mollie Elizabeth though the song is much more upbeat than the fic, and screencap of Remmick from @scrprints 💞
Too slow.
Too loud.
Too much dew to slick the soles of your feet as you ran from death.
Through dense thickets and towering trees, there wasn’t an end in sight. Lost, but still moving. You had to keep moving.
You weren’t going to make it. You were. You weren’t. It didn’t matter. You had to try.
Because if you stopped, that was it.
Your ragged pants grew into chest-bursting gasps—unused to pushing yourself this hard—whipping past trees and fallen branches and thorny brush. The night was eerily silent (or perhaps it was you that had gone deaf?). All the animals must’ve hid themselves away by now, much better at being prey than you were. Here, the only breathing thing left in these woods was you.
Because that thing surely didn’t breathe. Not like you did.
Uneven ground caused your ankle to twist and slip. You cried out, but carried on. It was all you could do.
You ran just as fast, if not faster, the adrenaline keeping you afloat. But you could hear him getting closer. If you slowed, he would kill you. If you stopped, he would kill you.
Just on the edge of hearing, a steady thump, thump, thump bounded down the path. You remembered his breathy laugh in your ear, the mocking, the wild look in his eye. He was a daemon, or maybe just a beast—coming straight for you.
Hah. Hah.
It wasn’t your fault.
You clawed through leaves that crowded the way. You urged your body to go faster, move lighter, survive, survive, survive.
It was all you could do.
But it still wasn’t enough.
He had gotten too close, too fast. How did you not hear it? The creature in the shape of a man pulling your desperate form back by the thin fabric of your night gown. Curling his arms around your torso like a steel cage. His mouth parted next to your ear as he pulled you against his chest; scaring you half to death with those wet, jagged teeth sticking out like spines.
“No, no, no, no, no… please, please!—” You tried to twist. Almost strangling yourself with the force at which you pulled and jerked away. But his hold was absolute.
You could feel his warm breath steam across your cheek. Sighing something pleased now that you’ve both had a good run and some liveliness in your bones. But it was over now, and hush, shhhh, it’s okay, you’ve lost.
You expected him to tear your throat out, or perhaps strangle you and feast on your organs; your mind coming up with more and more terrifying ways this was going to end.
But no, he did something unexpected instead.
He forced your head to the side and kissed you.
“Mmph!”
His tongue prodded deep with endless drool falling into your mouth. He laved over teeth, tongue, and the silky sides of your mouth, until there was nothing but him, him, him. It was a viscous, uncomfortable thing. Devouring your lips and pressing into the depths of your mouth like he wanted to bury himself inside and never be removed.
It was humiliating, it was gross, it was warm.
You felt so warm. A little voice in the back of your brain told you something was off, but everywhere he touched grew hot. A spreading, blooming fuzziness that seeped into your muscles and made you feel oh, so soft.
“Hm! Mm, oh…” Your struggles faded with the static in your bones. Not because you wanted to, but because you couldn’t control the use of your limbs anymore. Which was more terrifying than if he just killed you.
He groaned, animal-like and pleased at your compliance. Letting his grip soften, letting his kiss turn sensual and firm. You could make out a growing hardness pressing into you from behind, and, with disgust, you could recognize the slow, thick movements of him grinding into your body.
He let you fall to the ground. Grunting and satisfied with the toxin taking hold. Your body completely limp, muscles unresponsive and tight as he moved you the way he wanted. Pulling your knees up, pushing your face down, spreading your thighs to make room for himself behind you.
His too long, too bony fingers dug into the dirt beside your waist. Panting and sighing as he pushed himself against your thigh. You could feel his clothed cock rub back and forth onto you, stroking himself into a fever. Whining as he grasped your hip, curling over you to gain leverage, humping your leg like if he didn’t he’d die.
You weren’t dumb, you knew what he wanted, but that didn’t mean you were ready for how it felt.
That strange warmth clouded your thoughts, made it hard to think. But it was like each nerve had been massaged and heightened to the point his touch on you started to feel good. You started to sweat. You couldn’t move, but a whimper still escaped your lips. His rubbing on your leg feeling like a warm hand on your cunt.
Your face was pressed into the dirt; you tried to move your fingers, even an inch, but all you could manage was desperate twitching as he pressed up on your leg.
He shredded your night gown with ease and in his haste he nicked your back with his claws.
You waited for the pain, but it didn’t come.
In fact, it didn’t hurt at all.
As the blood bubbled from the cut all you could do was moan.
Exposed. Frozen. And open—your cunt begging to be filled. It was all he could do to free his cock fast enough, pushing into your sensitive entrance with a growl.
You could hear him snarl above you—possessively digging into your hips, drawing blood with his claws, licking and mouthing at your shoulder blade. His tongue on your back brought a sharp jolt straight to your clit, his spit turning the spot sensitive and tender. So good that when he bit in, you came with a surprised, choked gasp. Cunt squeezing and milking his cock as he drove in faster. You heard him gulp and swallow before lapping at the wound. That warmth pushing into your veins and making it feel so, damn good.
Your whole body was a living nerve, sweating and feverish and sensitive. Every touch felt like a thousand, every groan amplified a hundred times in your ear. You could feel another orgasm quickly approaching as he bit and soothed, bit and soothed, all while driving desperately into your core.
Your second peak was just as intense as the first time, if not more so. Gushing wetness over his cock and making him laugh and growl in equal measure.
“Mine,” was the first word you’ve heard out of him all night. Repeating it like a brand, mine, mine, mine.
Quick and easy, he flipped you over. Spreading you out again. Pushing back into your dripping cunt. Indecent sounds filling the quiet night air as your pussy swallowed him over and over again.
You weren’t even allowed to cry, helpless as you were. The most you could manage being a slight twitch of your brow.
Your head lolled off to the side, and in your madness you thought you saw the vacant eyes of your ma and da staring back at you. He had killed them, this beast set on ruining you. Charmed your sleepy parents and killed them right in front of your eyes, before looking at you, stepping aside, and just daring you to try and run.
You knew now, he only did it to play with you some more. Perhaps make his meal taste sweeter with an adrenaline high.
It didn’t matter, not now, not when he sucked your bare breast to feel all your muscles grip him tight. You could feel another wave, as impossible as it was, and when he pressed his tongue flat against your nipple it crested. Your body giving another spasm of wetness and clenching that had him burying to the hilt.
When he broke the skin of your breast, you think you came again, but you weren’t sure. All the pleasure and peaks blending together until your mind gave under the strain.
He took your knees in his hands, pressing them up and up and up until they strained next to your head. The angle hitting even deeper than before as he kept you there.
“Please…” you tried to stutter out, but your vocal cords wouldn’t respond. Stop. More. Harder. Ruin me, hit me, bleed me, bleed me, bleed me.
Your whole body convulsed, less of a body and more of a mindless, pleasure-filled puddle. A soft, wet, clenching thing for him to fuck and eat and fill with sensation. As your fifth (or maybe seventh?) orgasm hit, that was all you were: Sensation. Your body trying and failing, to give anything else. Running out of steam, out of blood, out of mind.
He nuzzled at the tender flesh of your throat—bite marks littering your entire body, blood leaking into the soft Earth—and with one final thrust, he latched onto your neck and pumped your body full of his spend.
A ridge at the base of his cock started to swell, his grinding turned to pushing you back and forth as he locked himself inside. If you had any capacity of mind you would be horrified, but in this moment all you could think about was how good the stretch felt. Plugging you up and fitting you together. A warm, comforting weight after an endless burn of friction.
He drank from your sweet neck, making your head spin and your vision give out. Your eyes fluttered closed—head completely empty—as you wallowed in a body ruined. But you didn’t know, couldn’t know, that he would wait for you to wake to do it all again.
Filling you up, making you cum over and over and over, until it took. Until you swelled up nice and pretty for him.
But for now, he would let you rest, laying his head on your body, curling and purring around you while he plugged you up. Taking in all the comfort your body could provide.
