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oletus-manors-log · 8 months

Note

⚰️ ah !! i noticed it says we're still allowed to send you letters , still . if not then disregard this with my apologies ! if it is alright , could i request a norton campbell x reader ? i was thinking of something akin to taking care of each other after a match . it can be a small drabble or short story preferably , if that is alright . your writing is something i only recently stumbled upon , and i think it is incredible ! you are very talented , and i am wishing you the best !! thank you for reading , take care , observer !

OBSERVER'S NOTE:

" Hello, and yes, I'm still open to receiving letters (requests). Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong (unless you were one of my mutuals, in case... I do apologize for the potential hurt I end up causing /lh).

The request with Norton is so cute though- the idea of the prospector and his s/o taking care of each other after a match and especially against a hard one where the two won? Oh, it's so cute. I do hope this lives up to your expectation, even if it took me ages to get to this (also I kept this for too long because your words made my weeks because it's been stressful).

Again, I hope you enjoy this drabble! I enjoyed writing this a little too much, haha. "

Wounded Afterthought

It was a rare sight to see Norton be with someone like this, and especially with the mere thought of him being worried about another person after a tough match. People had assumed that he would simply ignore them, just like what he did to everyone else.

However, the same cannot be said for those that knew him well.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly as he patched them up, his eyes focused onto the scabs and scratches they got. They went up against Polun (from what he heard), so he knew that it had went rough. He could hardly believe that they had a tie with how difficult the triplets were in their streak.

... The only saving grace, however, was that it had been Arms Factory and there were more competent survivors that made sure to keep the team together.

Feeling a gloved hand on his shoulder, he turned his head to you, who simply shook your head. Ah. He must've looked terrifying, hm?

"I'm fine, Norton," he heard you answer, the feeling of the weight of your hand leaving as you placed it on your lap. Your attire had been torn, but it was better than last time.

Good, you aren't too heavily injured, he mused, sighing. "Quartz, you know that I'm doing this out of worry. Polun is a hard one to deal with, let alone escape against with the team you were with."

There goes an endearing nickname he called you— Quartz. He calls you something else, however, but that was the most frequent he'd choose. Unknowingly, of course.

"I know that. However, everyone wasn't as terrible against him, Norton," you reasoned, raising your left hand to gently cup his. Your gloved thumb traced over his cheek, and although he didn't want to show he liked it, you two could see him lean over involuntarily.

"After all, if they were, I wouldn't be here in your arms now, would I?"

Norton couldn't find an answer to that.

It was, unfortunately, true. If you had been hurt, he wouldn't have you in his grasp— he would've had you under Emily's care. And yet here you are, bandaged up, clothes torn, but still alive.

He couldn't help but sigh and bury his head on the crook of your neck, closing his eyes right after. He let go of you to simply adjust the position of his arms, wrapping it around your body to keep you close to him.

He wouldn't admit it, of course, but you can be quite stubborn for a priest. Not that he particularly cares— to him, what mattered was your safety, not your occupation.

... That, and unlike that Priestess, you rely on your own wits and snap decision to save you from being chaired.

Perhaps it's why he is so protective of you, and yet he simply backs off when you prove him wrong. After all, how could he when you both knew that you were right?

"... Maybe not. But I'd still like to make sure you're not in danger, if I can help it," he admitted, making you laugh at his own concern. He would normally grunt when someone else does it, but he didn't have the heart to do it to you.

You, a priest, who have left your past beliefs to find faith in a different God.

"Dear, with you on my side, I'll never be in danger. I can promise you that."

And for a mere moment, Norton knew those words rang true than the ones written in scripture.

#✎ . . . 「 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙎𝙋𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙊𝙍 」 ➠ ❝ Norton Campbell ❞#✎ . . . 「 𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙂𝙊𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝘿𝙍𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙎 」 ➠ ❝ drabbles ❞#identity v #identity v writing #idv #identity v survivor #identity v x you #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identityv x reader #idv x you #identityv x you #identityv prospector #identity v prospector #identityv norton #identity v norton #idv prospector #idv norton

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the-manors-writer · 2 years

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if reqs arent open and im unable to read ignore me. im a blight.

i had the idea of norton with a s/o who has scars they hide and theyre like his, and he sees them on accident one day. may i have hcs on this? i just rlly love how yall write him and everyone else hhdnebf

Request: Norton with s/o who has hidden scars similar to his headcanons

Pairing: [Norton Campbell] Prospector x gn!reader

Warnings: None

Norton Campbell

Norton was your everything and you were his everything. Both of you were similar in many ways, especially in terms of appearance.

The only difference in that was how Norton couldn't quite hide the way half his face and body were covered with burnt marks, caused by the mining explosion incident.

Whilst you could hide all your imperfections beneath the clothing you wore pretty well.

Knowing he had the same scars as you, did made you feel better and less scared.. Or insecure, but still not enough for you to ever show it to him.

You were always so cautious and careful around him sometimes, fearing he could see what lies underneath layers of cloth.

Norton definitely wouldn't have minded at all that you have the same scars as he does, he probably would be smiling. But that doesn't dispel the fear you have.

Norton didn't mean to. But he stumbled upon you as you were changing and saw what you've been hiding.

Your eyes met into a long staring contest filled with a uncomfortable atmosphere.

The prospector slowly approached you and lightly trialed his rough finger against your patches of uneven and rough skin.

"My dearest.." He murmurs out your name, dark orbs looking back into yours with a expression you can't quite make out.

"Oh mi amor.." Norton pulls you into a gentle embrace, burying his head down into and against your neck, sniffing your sweet lovely scent.

He has many questions on how you got them but he keeps his mouth shut and continues to embrace you for the longest of time.

Both of you melt into each other's warmth and arms, indulging in the other's lovely distinct scent.

The heavy weight lifts when strong arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you. It felt nice, your heart was beating rapidly, tummy filled with fluttering butterflies.

He knows now. There's no use in hiding it any longer from him.

It soon became a must for Norton to slowly and lightly trial his hands about every scars you had, maybe plant a few kisses along the way.

It's embarrassing but you enjoyed it and he knows you do.

"You're so perfect." He tells you, constantly complimenting you. You could tell his words were genuine but god was it embarrassing to hear it.

No matter how much you insist that there's no need to do anything that he does, or how you are fine, Norton is quite the stubborn and hard nut to crack and you love him for that.

[ art credit - @jinnseigame ]

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midnxght-sweet-time · 2 years

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(Charac Interaction i dont know if ur request are open because i cant find it and im dumb :’))

Joseph! did you know you’re my favourite hunter? Youre really cute kind and handsome i would love to hang out with you if we have the time! > <

❦︎A/N: Just look at the invitation(my pinned post/blog profile) sweetie. I dont normally take requests but im feeling generous this time around so i opened a small Idv request event. Theres 3 slots left if you like to request either a drawing or a writing of your fav characs!

║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║▌│█║▌│

Joseph Desaulniers

"Hah, Im not so sure if 'kind' is the right word to describe me."

The noble hunter brush the lose strands of hair that has been loosen from it's fabric confinement. His shallow eyes stare back at you. Its plain yet majestic blue glows for you. Without pupils to indicate his emotions besides a simple flick of his eyebrows, you can't tell if thats his indifference towards you or simply contemplating.

After a brief moment of silence as you watch him re-adjust and arrange his lucious white locks, he smiled with eyes closed. A soft expression that eases your insecurities. The kind gentlemen you complemented about was right infront of you.

"Nonetheless, je suis flattée."

A small spark of excitement caused heat to rise up to your cheeks; a blush smothering your face and reflects the light from the window. Birds chirping outside to fill in the silence, watching you two interract like a romance movie.

A sly chuckles escaped his lips. His smile grew ever so slightly as his eyes slowly fluttered opened to look at you. "Well–" he mumbled, the breeze carrying his words to your ears as he looks away to the distance. A lone grandfather clock stands at the end of the hallway, the large pendulum swinging patiently as if also waiting for his response.

He turns back to you, his smile still present as he left out a hand towards you.

"Alright, I suppose I have the time to go on a morning stroll."

His hand locks onto yours, the way his slender fingers encase your smaller ones like a perfect fit of a puzzle piece. Before you could say anything to express your gratitude, he suddenly came closer. His face inches away from yours in a split second leaving you no time to react. His expression never changed, but the emotions held inside those mezmerising blue has turned to a slightly darker hue. They bore into your innocent ones with such hunger you familliarize yourself with every hunter.

His was no exception.

"I'd have to say though, how bold of you to step foot in the hunter's wing— mon jolie petite proie."

#dessert.display//identityv #party.entertainer//joseph desaulniers #idv joseph #joseph idv #joseph desaulnier #identity v the photographer #identity v photographer #idv photographer #idv #identity v #idv joseph x reader #joseph desaulnier x reader #idv writing #identity v writing #idv photographer x reader #idv x reader #identity v x reader #identity v x you #photographer x reader

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fishermanshook · 21 days

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F!CK BOYS GONE SOFT

( mercenary , batter & prospector ) + gn!reader

# MINOR WRITING SMUT , #ihatewritingdialouge , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

It was a mutual agreement between the both of you that you were fucking for the pure reason of letting off steam after being stuck in this hell hole.

No feelings were supposed to be caught. No hearts were meant to be thawed. And yet, they find themselves yearning for your touch long after your last session.

꒰wc꒱ 1.7k ( longest fic so far !! )

✦— THE MERCENARY

If being between your legs was where he wished to be, then who were you to deny him access to the most private part of your body? Where Naib works his magic and milks you of your essence while paying you back in waves of pleasure.

The Mercenary looks so lost in his work that you think he doesn’t notice the change in pitch. That you’ve adjusted your grip on his hair to a softer, gentler hold. Your moans are light, airy, and not at all the ones that left your throat hoarse and raspy the night before. No, that can’t be right. And it doesn’t take him long before he finds the spot that pushes you over. The spot that has your back arching off the mattress. The spot that has you screaming his name like it’s going out of style.

And god does pleasure look good on you, as Naib refuses to remove his eyes from you as he watches the aftermath of you coming undone in front of him. Such a passionate and intimate thing for his eyes and his eyes only as your essence coats his hands and tongue. To think he’d pull his head away after you came is just stupid. Have you not learned from previous sessions? You coming only gives him more reason to drop down there and give you more, but Naib holds himself back.

The next few moments are a blur as you try to calm down after your orgasm, but it seems Naib won’t let you. The sound of something being unzipped and his pants hitting the floor pulls you from your recovery. He’s prepped you enough, hasn’t he?

“It’ll hurt a little, but only for a second.” The Mercenary whispers in your ear as a warning to brace for what’s about to come. It makes him wonder, and only for a split second, if you ever realized how much he loves you. The amount of thought and care that goes into every move he makes towards you. Maybe you’re just dense, or maybe it’s not like that. He won’t know until he tells you. Or, until you tell him.

Your hands rush to clamp themselves over your mouth in an attempt to stifle the moans flooding from it. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this (and certainly not the last…), but it’s always a tight fit. A tight fit that neither of you can get enough of. Your hands don’t last though, as the Mercenary is quick to rip your hands away from your mouth. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. You don’t need him to say anything else.

It’s not long before you feel the familiar warmth strengthen between your legs. By now, Naib’s memorized your every tell that you’re going to come. By the way your legs tighten around his waist and the way your hands reach to clasp his biceps to try and hold on. It’s the way you attempt to not pass out when you feel everything just snap.

“God, I love you so much,” Naib admits before even realizing what he just said. You’ve never seen the man freeze so fast, or go so red. Before his hands cover his mouth you pin his wrists down to the bed.

“Wait—! H-hold on,” you say, still recovering from your orgasm that happened just seconds ago. “What did you say?”

The Mercenary stares at you before opening his mouth to say: “I didn’t say anything.” He’s trying to play it with a convincing tone in his voice, but it’s hard to believe when he practically shouts it.

“No, Naib,” you huff out “Are you playing me?” You question. Your face molds into worry and concern. Instead, he avoids your gaze. There’s nothing else for him to do in this situation is there.

“Fine. If you won’t say it, then I will.” You state before grabbing Naibs face and pressing it into yours. The Mercenary tries (and he really does) to do anything but melt into your touch. In the end, it proves to be no use. Pulling away, you say: “Naib, there is no one else I love more than you.”

“Thanks for confirming what I already know, babe.”

✦— THE BATTER

Not every affair starts with a heated make-out session, but every heated make-out session ends with the two of you having sex. With your lips entwined as your fingers roam through his hair, the two of you make a mad dash to whoever’s room is closer as playful giggles slip out along the way.

It started as just another way to let yourself go and cut loose a little after another night of terror from Ganji. How could you not tell that the Batter saw you as more than just some fuck buddy? That his eyes weren’t only filled with lust, but love for you and you entirely?

Maybe this can be his way of showing you, whether you get it or not. Whether you understand the soft kisses he lays on your chest. Whether you understand the praises that fall from his lips. Whether you understand it's taken him too long to finally muster up the courage to confess to you.

You’ve stripped each other of your clothes leaving both of you bare naked. The only thing covering you are the multiple hickeys decorating your chest as well as between your legs. The pleasure overrides any pain felt from when he initially pushed his way inside of you. Before you know it, you're babbling all over his cock while he presses gentle kisses all over your face. You look so cute like this—all flushed out and pink.

Ganji's smart, but overlooks your cock drunkenness and traces his finger along your jaw and other places. Eventually, his finger meets your back and traces along your spine. His finger does weird swoops along your backside. It's all just a simple way of telling you 'I love you.' without having to utter a word.

Maybe it's the way you moan out his name as your hips move up and down on his cock. Or maybe it's the look in your eyes when he meets them. The Batter's not sure where the courage comes from, but all he knows is that he can't stand another moment of you not being his.

"[name] I- fuck, I love you." He barely manages to grunt out, snapping you from your thoughts to look at him with wide eyes.

"What-?"

It's then he thinks he fucked up. That he has demolished all of the hard work he put into this relationship. This is it. This is the end of your bond.

"No, shit I'm sorry just forget what I said," Ganji mutters out, immediately flipping you over so that your lying down on your back. "I'll make you come real hard if you just forget everything I just said, 'k?" Ganji says with caution in his voice. Maybe you're not the only one oblivious in this relationship of yours.

"Really? You love me?"

Ganji tears his eyes away from wherever he is looking at looks right at you. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If not for you I don't think I'd ever get the chance to say this," you chimed, pulling him in for a long and passionate kiss first. "Ganji, I love you more than the stars themselves."

✦— THE PROSPECTOR

The bed will break long after the Prospector, Norton Campbell, has had his way with you. He won’t stop until his sheets are soaked in your combined essences until your scent has been embedded into his mattress, and until he can get the words out to tell you how he feels.

For too long has Norton been labeled as your “fuck buddy” and he wants out of it. Every round feels like another chance to prove he’s perfect for you. How many people know your favorite book? Your favorite place to relax? Your favorite position? The sensitive spots on your body? Who else knows exactly where to touch and what to say? All he needs you to answer is if you like him or not.

“Shit—always feel so good,” Norton manages to grunt out after thrusting into you. He knows he’s found your sweet spot (again…) when he pulls a loud moan from your sweet lips. So attentive to your wants and needs that he can’t help but hit the spot again and again, listening as your moans grow louder with each thrust.

The Prospector mutters something under your breath he thinks went by unnoticed. Pulling you from your aroused state to ask him what’s wrong. All he can do is sigh and shake his head as his arms wrap around you. A bit tighter than usual, but not uncomfortable.

“Norton—! What’s the matter?” You manage to huff out. It’s obvious something is plaguing his mind, but the Prospector is as stubborn as ever and refuses to tell you. “Fine then,” you tell him “I guess I just won’t let you come.”

Now that gets his attention, and he instantly slows his pace. You allow him to keep going, but only if he starts talking.

“I’m too scared to say it,” Norton states.

“Why?” You ask.

Norton looks down at where you're still connected. It’s only then you notice he’s stopped. “Because I don’t want it to ruin whatever we’ve got going on. I don’t want to lose everything.” He admits through gritted teeth.

“Do you think it’s that bad that you’d lose everything?” You ask, concern now seeping into your voice.

All he does is sigh before bringing his face closer to yours. “God, is it seriously not obvious enough? Shit, [name] I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time and I didn’t want to say anything in fear of ruining—“ he gestures using his hands to the both of you. “this. A-and I get it if you don’t want anything to do with me after this but you asked so—“

He doesn’t get to finish as you cover his lips with yours. “Silly prospector, I love you more than you could imagine.” You confess before feeling Norton melt into your kiss once more.

note: hiii fish nation…sorry about the random hiatus, it will probably happen again 😆😆😆. thank you all so much for 100+ followers! it means the absolute most to me knowing there are actually people who enjoy reading what I have to write. I wouldn’t be here without you, thank you for everything so far. 🩷🩷🩷. this is so ass oh my gosh

(2024) ©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

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akuma-tenshi · 3 months

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what's up lucanort nation how're we feelin

#rambling #idv #identity v #norton campbell #idv prospector #luca balsa #idv prisoner #lucanort #nortluca #still probably one of my favourite ships #at least in idv #they're very versatile you can write a lot of stuff with 'em

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lumierexfics · 7 months

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Hi! Would you be comfortable doing "your hands are cold" + praise kink mixtober prompt for Ithaqua? Some fluff and smut if you get what I mean ^^

● LIVESTREAM NAME : You lay upon my pillow, you open like a flower

description log : Being forced to pick up mushrooms goes unexpectedly wrong in the ‘deadly’ woods.

USERS : Nightwatch (Ithaqua), Reader

❗️❗️CONTENT WARNINGS : MDNI 18+, Praise Kink, Canon-ish lore, Accusations/references to demons, Hitting someone with a basket, Smut, Implied Established yet hidden relationship, and Implied Murder.❗️❗️

A failed harvest for the village and your body ached from standing in the snow. Desperately trying to warm them on the remnants of the burnt wood that still held embers. It would be a sore miracle if the Norwell family hadn’t accused you of being the next blasphemous witch but the others in the servants quarters thought otherwise; believing that you were a demon reincarnate.

Unfortunately, you had been sent to gather these mysterious mushrooms that specifically grew in the deadly woods that had taken the lives of many villagers.

“Lord/Lady [Name],” you muttered to yourself. “Isn’t it far too late to scavenge these mushrooms?”

Your hands tightly wrapped around your forearms, trembling with each step. The cold airbrushed into your thin clothes while stepping through the snow covered terrain, tightly clutching the empty basket while another trembling hand held a lantern.

Your eyes looked down to where these supposed mushrooms were supposed to be at only to see that someone must’ve plucked them before you were forced to get them. Whistling wind flew past your ears as you begrudgingly made your way back but right when you turned around to see a fellow villager.

“Cursed blood,” they cried. “Scavenging for your wicked remedies that aid you while the village suffers!”

“I was only ordered to scavenge these mushrooms!” You struggled to wriggle out of their grasp. “You must have confused me! I have done nothing wrong!”

“Wrong?” They scoffed, grip tightened and seemingly pulled your arm forward, causing you to drop your lantern. “Everyone knows that you’re fornicating with the beast that lives in these woods.”

Hearing the sizzle of the candle slowly dying out. Yet somehow you managed to swing your hand that held the empty basket; repeatedly on their head till they managed to loosen their grip.

The crunching underneath your shoes seemed to sound louder and louder with each step and your lungs ached with each breath. Whistling wind grew harsher and harsher with each step till your legs tightened, utterly refusing to move causing you to fall into the fresh snow. Your body ached almost becoming one with the snow while new snow had quickly fallen onto your body; the sound of a scream seemed so far away while the crunching of snow grew closer and closer. It was true that you had laid in the same bed with the ‘beast’ that lived in snow covered woods but he had been so gentle with you.

You slowly came to feel the warmth of a freshly burnt firewood and the familiar embrace of him, Ithaqua. He always wore his mask but you didn’t mind it. Your face was buried in his chest while yours and his body were interwoven with each other; fitting perfectly to each other. His mask was slightly lifted up to reveal his lips as his hands cupped yours, desperately trying to warm them.

“Your hands are still cold,” he said.

He blew his breath into the cocoon of his hands that held yours.

“Ithaqua,” you murmured, softly.

Ithaqua’s mask rubbed on your cheek and his hands caressed your face.

“Would you like to be more warm, my sweet?” He asked, his voice held a familiar tone of desire. “I can bring warmth to your frozen body if you desire it.”

“Yes.” You answered him, clearing your throat to sound more louder.

You could tell that he was smiling from underneath his mask. You barely noticed that you both were in your underwear as his chest was now touching your back while his hands carefully separated your trembling legs; just as he did many times before. His hand glided over your underwear, playfully rubbing your moist crotch and his fingertips teetered on your inner thighs causing a soft gasp erupt from your throat.

“Come on, my sweet,” he whispered. “I don’t cover your mouth then I won’t know how to warm you up.”

Ithaqua watched you slowly move your hand off of your lips as his hands caressed your body with such gentleness while carefully parting your legs open once more after they had shut.

“My sweet,” he whispered, softly. “So magnificent for me.”

He carefully himself nuzzled between your legs, your eyes watered; feeling him. As his warm hands continued to wipe away the tears that dribbled down your eyes while soft praises were whispered in your ears.

“Look at how good you’re taking me, my sweet,” he whispered, kissing on your neck.

He continued to watch you unravel even more; such beauty in pleasure. Ithaqua’s hands remained on your hips, helping your tired hips to match his overwhelming pace that unraveled you further down in the spiral of pleasure. He continued his pace as he long forgot the amount of rounds you’ve both had been through, hearing your voice almost strangled but it still remained as a melody to him while the only noise echoing through the small cottage; wet smacking and the soft crackling of firewood. He held your hands, expecting them to feel cold but finally they were now warm.

“Your hands are still cold, my sweet,” he lied.

#identity v x reader #idv ithaqua x reader #identity v Nightwatch x reader smut #idv smut #idv nightwatch x reader smut #identity v x you #identity v x reader smut #identity v ithaqua x reader #ithaqua x reader #Nightwatch x reader #still idk how to write smut

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adiluv · 10 months

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❥ PHOTOGRAPHER + GENERAL HCS. ˚⊹꒷

⚜️୧・꒰word count꒱ 1129.

📕୧・꒰warnings꒱ none!

👑୧・꒰adi moment꒱ unfortunately i am writing for french 'people' now… how sad… /j lol—to be real, though, i’ve actually started playing identity v again and ended up sparking some interest for joseph ꒰netass gave me tranquility, as a treat꒱, so here we are! feel free to send in requests, whether it be for him or other characters! hope you enjoy! ꒰ㅅ´ ˘ `꒱

꒰⚔️꒱・A closed-off aristocrat with a slight tendency for egotism, Joseph is certainly one of the more tedious residents to woo. Congratulations for ꒰somehow꒱ managing to do so! Beneath his haughty and withdrawn persona, he’s an incredibly observant, caring, and loyal individual—and he does his best to make sure that you feel loved whenever he’s by your side.

꒰⚔️꒱・Although I consider him to be far from optimistic, considering everything that’s happened within his pre-manor days, I do still imagine him to be a sort of hopeless romantic. This is a sentiment you’ll become well aware of through the many dates that he plans for the both of you—whether they be candlelit dinners, strolls in the garden, or something else. These dates do occasionally go astray due to the ever growing amount of inhabitants sharing the space, though he does his best to keep/get things back on track. Please reassure him if things get a bit too hectic—he’s very much prone to panicking.

꒰⚔️꒱・As a man of the arts, you’re quick to become his new muse. He loves taking photos of you at any and every moment he can, regardless of how mundane it is. Depending on your own sentiments of the matter, this could potentially be a root of disagreements—especially considering that the camera seems to follow him every time you’re together. Similarly, he’s a big fan of painting you, originally using the photos he took of you as references, though he quickly abandons them once he gets the hang of things—he’s a fast learner when it comes to you.

꒰⚔️꒱・Of course, though, he values your happiness far more than his desire to preserve you, and he’ll try to stop taking so many photos of you if you ever express discomfort. ꒰Of course, the keyword here is ‘try’.꒱ He slips up on occasion, so please try to be patient with him—it’s his way of showing love, and he tends to get a little over dramatic at times.

꒰⚔️꒱・Joseph is also a rather clingy type of lover, and jealousy is ever quick to sink its fangs into him. The fear of losing you, whether it be physically or emotionally, is relentless in haunting him once you start dating. Even so, it isn’t something he vocalizes often, due to his fears of being considered as weak. Whether it be him hovering close to you whenever you’re too close to another survivor, or the way that he subtly begs you not to leave his side, it is something that you come to notice.

꒰⚔️꒱・Ignore his signs of jealousy, and you might just find that other survivor being targeted during matches—but he’ll ꒰reluctantly꒱ catch himself if you call him out on it. Afterwards, he’ll just resort to being a pouty mess around you, though some extra affection is quick to restore his good mood. You might even catch the Joseph Desaulniers apologizing to the other survivor afterwards—though you’d best bet that he’s swearing them to secrecy. It’s embarrassing, truly! You know nobles like him are meant to be composed at all times..!

꒰⚔️꒱・When it comes to facing you in matches, well… It really does depend. His most common strategies include going friendly for your entire team ꒰and spending the time by your side꒱ or simply avoiding you until everybody else has been chaired and he can give you dungeon. However, there are times that he’ll have to go full swing on you—he fears that the baron might punish the both of you, otherwise. He tries to be gentle on you when this happens, grazing you ever so lightly with his rapier, but he’ll always come running to Emily’s infirmary once the match is over… just to make sure.

꒰⚔️꒱・Assuming that you haven’t been hurt by him in a match, though, it does take some time for him to catch back up with you. Joseph is a massive cleanfreak, and absolutely despises the idea of being dirty—something caused both by his social status and the illness that took Claude away from him. He tends to make a beeline to his shower whenever he returns from matches, a habit that you’ve gradually come to pick up due to his hesitancy to cuddle with you when you haven’t. All things considered, it is a good habit, so you don’t mind it all that much.

꒰⚔️꒱・When it comes to things like PDA, I do imagine Joseph falling more on the conservative side ꒰once again due to his upbringing꒱. He’d really only engage in it when he’s feeling jealous, and for the most part prefers to keep all amorous gestures private… though he won’t complain nor attempt to stop you if you give him a quick kiss on the cheek, or something similar. He does, however, use a lot of French nicknames and terms of endearment for you—both in private and public. Mary enjoys teasing him for it, and offers to translate them for you if you don’t know French.

꒰⚔️꒱・Circling back to his fixation on cleanliness, the worst thing for him is falling sick. He’s quick to become upset if he notices himself falling under the weather, and he’ll quickly try to find something to blame for it. While this can grate on the nerves of whoever’s caring for him, being angry distracts him from his fear—though he’ll try to tone things down if he notices that he’s riling you up. Regardless, he’s grateful that you’re putting in the effort to care for him, even if he initially tries to shoo you off for the fear of getting you sick, too.

꒰⚔️꒱・If you’re the one sick, however, things tend to go much differently. He’s a mix of worried and distant whenever it happens, constantly obsessing over your condition and endlessly pestering Emily—begging her to make sure that you’re alright. At the same time, however, you won’t catch a single sight of him while you’re still ill—the thought of seeing you in such a state causing his stomach to churn. He’s quick to apologize once you’re better, pressing kisses on every part of skin that he can reach… Though expect a slight scolding to accompany his tenderness.

꒰⚔️꒱・Ending this with a cuddling headcanon..! Joseph absolutely adores having you close to him. Whether it be you sitting in his lap while he reads a book or him having an arm wrapped around you as he rants about bad matches and annoying survivors, cuddling is a necessity for him. He’s not against the idea of falling asleep while holding you, either, but be warned that his grip gets shockingly tight once he drifts off. While attempts at escape don’t fully wake him, he’ll try to convince you to stay with half-asleep murmurs of ‘don’t leave, mon ange…’ or ‘stay a little, mon amour…’. Unfortunately for you, they’re rather effective.

i have a taglist, which you can sign up for here!

#꒰📍꒱﹕my writing ⋆#identity v #identity 5 #idv #id5 #idv photographer #idv joseph #joseph desaulnier #joseph desaulniers #joseph desaulnier x reader #joseph desaulniers x reader #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v headcanons #idv headcanons #identity v headcannons #idv headcannons

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kodentsimp · 10 months

Text

Calling you slut/whore I guess idk its like 2:59 am

NSFW minors-nvm I'm a minor myself read at your own risk i guess first time writing on this app 😵: afab!reader x various male Characters

Oh god.. you're going to make me cum soon if you keep making those sounds.. biting your neck as he slams his cock faster inside you ah~ fuck~ That's it my little slut, cum on this cock~! he said as his movements becoming more rougher, still thrusting into you deeper, Such a dirty little whore aren't you? he growls as he pounds into you faster. He wasn't going to stop until he had you begging him to...

Scaramouche Blade Karma Ryuunosuke Overhaul Ajax Diluc Kokushibo Nathaniel Norwell cough-Keyaru daniel dickens Chae yul bakugo kamisato ayato levi and dni if you must idc Edgar valden!!👏

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aceymazy · 10 months

Note

can you write idv aesop x reader nsfw please

ofc! no problem!

~Aesop Carl x Reader NSFT HC's~

First, Consent. You both need to have a talk about consent and what you both feel comfortable doing with him, he is traumatized and has a lot of things he wouldn't allow anyone to touch, including you, his S/O.

When you two have your first time, i think he would give every single bodypart of your's attention, the same amount aswell knowing how on-spot he likes to be.

Following this ^ headcanon, he would keep a close eye on your reactions whenever he does a certain thing. For example, hitting a spot inside you and trying to see if you like it or you dont like it.

He would treat you like a porcelain doll, touching you with such care he didn't know he could touch something(/one) than the corpses he puts makeup on.

He won't go harsh/hard/fast even if scream for him to do, he thinks that sex is a very intimate thing in a relationship, a very serious thing that conveys how passionate you both are about eachother, you two are showing how much you both love eachother during sex.

He won't be too experimental in my opinion. He would (with hard explaining and talking to actually get him to) try bondage, like tying your hands back while sex. But i think, he wouldn't be comfortable and wouldn't like to have sex in public/semi-public areas. The intimate times are only for the bedroom and the bedroom only.

Threesome's and sex where there's another participant is off the table. He does not want to share you. You are for his and his eyes only.

He's possesive, even if he denies it, he is. Jealousy sex is on the table. He maybe even pick up his normal pace at times like those.

He very rarely jerks off. He never did and he only does when he's in a very close situation, for example you aren't there and he randomly gets hit with the hormones.

Aftercare is absolute HEAVEN. He is a clean freak so he will clean you, and even your bed if it get's messy (He prefers cumming inside you if you allow it, he despises if something get's stained but he wouldn't blame anyone for it.)

#aesop carl #aesop carl x reader #identity v aesop #aesop x reader #idv smut #idv headcanons #idv x reader #idv dating hcs #idv aesop #idv aesop carl #idv aesop carl x reader #idv aesop carl headcanons #Finn writes☆

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herdecisions · 5 months

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Look at my husband with our children :)

#i need to write a smutty drabble rn after months cus im so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫#RAAAAAAAHHHH 👹👹👹👹👹#FCKKK FCKKKK #ahem #uhm #identity v #identity v norton campbell #identity v norton #norton campbell #norton campbell x reader #norton campbell x y/n #norton campbell x you

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oletus-manors-log · 1 year

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OBSERVER'S NOTE :

“ How interesting! I never manage to dig deep into Frederick myself, but he seems like an interesting fellow. His mannerisms do tend to contradict each other, although I won't lie, the music he composes is very nice to listen to.

Anyway, before I start rambling again, here it is, @tartalimispapas ! I hope that I didn't took too long writing this— believe me, people watching and observing him in matches and out of it can be conflicting, not to mention the chaos in the manor. It gives me a headache sometimes... ”

Insomniac Troubles - Frederick Kreiburg

There are certain things that you have trouble with, even after living in the manor for as long as you've remembered.

One being that you have trouble with matches.

And the other being insomnia.

You were one of the few survivors in the manor that has trouble sleeping. It's almost like a curse for you, considering that it costs you during matches when you're being chased by the hunters. The amount of times Emily had to talk to you about your sleep schedule was also another thing, but you weren't going to tell her about your problem.

There were others that do share your pain in staying up late, like Naib, for instance. Aesop was also another survivor you've seen staying up due to this issue, but it seems that the two have managed to resolve it. How? You don't know.

You weren't exactly close to them, anyhow.

As you woke up once again, you found yourself lying in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You've pondered if you could even ask anyone for help on this matter. Although you aren't close with the others, you at least know that some wouldn't mind helping you, like Emily or even Ada.

...

They must surely be asleep, though. I should find a way to tire myself out without disturbing them.

With that thought in mind, you pushed yourself out of the bed, perhaps so to get your body moving. It could be a double-edged sword for you and you could end up feeling more active finding ways to tire yourself out, but in your mind, it'll be worth the effort.

All you have to do is find a way to get tired and lull yourself to sleep. That's it.

...

It has been 20 minutes when you got out of the room to walk around the area, your body still in that sluggish state. It was a bit difficult for you to really do much, and the rooms you've visited were empty.

A sure sign that no one is awake.

It was making you feel more and more tired, which may sound good... But no, it wasn't in the sense that you want to head back and sleep in your room. It was more to the fact you're getting more and more annoyed at seeing no one around to help you sleep.

People often talked about how they feel cranky when they wake up, and now, you can understand why they would say that.

The more you walked around, the more the frustration seem to build up. At this point, if you can't find somewhere to keep your mind occupied, you'd—

...

A song seem to echo on the hall as you stepped in, making you stop in your tracks.

It sounded... Faint, yes, but nice. Almost enchanting.

For a moment, you debated investigating what was up. There were certain things you aren't so certain, and especially with thinking who is playing music in such an hour. Maybe it was someone haunting the halls at this time with how enchanting it is, or maybe it is something else and you aren't aware of?

Well, it could be those things, or it can be a musician- Antonio was unable to play the piano, that you knew, but... Who else, then?

...

Ahh, this will keep you up at night. Maybe it's best you investigate what is going on, then.

With a new task in mind, you went off to see what it was. The music was still playing, so in that sense, maybe you will be able to figure out who it is and even ask if they can tell you what song it is.

Although, while the song was playing, the creaks of the floorboards sounded like it wasn't there as you went to investigate. Alongside that, it also helped you feel more and more at ease— the song was played beautifully, each note sounding like they belong in its rightful place, and even down to its various pauses and dips of its tone.

Safe to say, it was enchanting.

You stumbled a few times when you reached the room where it was being played, the melody growing louder and louder. It feels like it was pulling you in its embrace, and it didn't help but amplify it's effects when you stepped in the room.

It seems you have ended up in the ballroom, the instruments laid aside on the side of the stage. Although the place was devoid of life, you could tell someone was playing the piano from their place.

As you turned your gaze into the sight of the piano, you couldn't help but see the man that was playing.

The light from the lantern showed you his features: his platinum blonde hair was styled in a low ponytail, strands framing his face evenly while his eyes were focused onto the sheet. He didn't even have his pink coat with him, opting to wear a white dress shirt as he played the song on the piano.

The melody simply continued on as you felt your body sway, your footsteps growing lighter as you listlessly went over to listen. Although, you didn't expect him to stop playing to turn and see you.

...

Ah.

This is awkward.

You both stared in place as the music came to a sudden stop, the silence enveloping you both in a rather... Tense grip. You felt like the previous drowsiness you had vanish, only to be replaced with the chill and embarrassment of being found out.

Uh oh.

You hesitated for a moment before you turned around to leave, mumbling a "sorry", but you paused when the musician coughed.

"... Sorry, did you hear me play?"

His voice sounded soft and melodic, much like his song, you noted. Though, you did turned back to face him before nodding.

"Yes. It sounds... Nice, though," you answered, giving him a smile in return. "Can you play it again?" you asked, taking one step forward as you watched his reaction.

He paused, perhaps... Debating on whether to continue. After a while, he nodded and gestured for you to sit down, raising his hands to continue playing.

As he began to play the song, the room began to fill with the melody you heard when you were looking for something to tire yourself out. As he continued to play, you observed his reaction.

The way his eyes seem to flutter close as he continued to play, the smile stretching to his lips as he seem lost in his world, and even down to his fingers glide through the keys of the instrument.

It was mesmerizing. Captivating, even.

And it roped you in.

It didn't took long until you felt your body sway, your eyes fluttering close as the song reached it's peak bit by bit. Letting out a soft yawn, you relaxed and leaned onto the instrument, a smile stretching your lips.

No word can describe the feeling you had listening to his song, and for once, you didn't have to.

The moment the song's conclusion came, Frederick's fingers lifted itself from the keys, his eyes opening to turn towards where you've been seated. He could've said something, but he stopped upon seeing the relaxed look on your face.

Ah...

The fact that you fell asleep while listening to him play was... Surprising. Was the song so good, or were you that tired when you got to the ballroom?

He didn't knew. But maybe he can ask you tomorrow, when you both meet again.

The composer moved to stand up from his spot in the piano, and with a swift turn, he leaned down to grab one of your arms to wrap around him. The other free hand reached over for the lantern, just so that he wouldn't trip over anything in the dark.

With that, he trudged on to the survivor's wing, sealing a sleepless night such as this on a positive note.

#✎ . . . 「 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙀𝙍 」 ➠ ❝ Frederick Kreiburg ❞#✎ . . . 「 𝙒𝙍𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝙇𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙎 」 ➠ ❝ long-fics ❞#✎ . . . 「 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙇𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙎𝙀𝙉𝙏 ! 」 ➠ ❝ answered ❞#identityv #identity v #identity v writing #identity v frederick #idv composer #frederick kreiburg x reader #identity v x reader #identity v x you #frederick kreiburg x you #idv #idv survivor #identity v survivor

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the-manors-writer · 2 years

Note

Hello may I have some Emil headcanons? Can it be fluff too?

૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

request: general fluff emil headcanons pairing: [emil] patient x gn!reader warnings: none

emil

emil is the very definition of puppy love to you

he clings to you a lot and is whiny whenever you have to go somewhere without him

but he’ll always be running to your side whenver you return

emil loves dates with you where the two of you can eat good food

so mostly chinatown dates

the asylum doesn’t give him good food, so food that’s actually good is something he scarfs down

however, he finds food tastes good regardless of what it is with you by his side

his favourite thing to do is feed you food he makes, though they aren’t super gourmet. just homemade foods that anyone could make

emil’s love language is making you things then giving them to you and physical affection

especially if it’s arts and craft jewellry

old metal clips and such into necklaces, bracelets... rings :)

emil is a very supportive boyfriend to you

if you express interest in anything, he’ll go around the manor to ask others about the aforementioned topic

then he’ll return to you and tell you everything he gathered to see if you’re still interested in it

and if you are, he’ll find a way to get that interest to you

emil is very touch starved and physically affectionate

the slightest kiss from you is enough to get him love drunk all day

whenever you cuddle, his arms will wrap around you and cling to your warmth with a tired, content smile on his face

emil loves being the little spoon with you

he also loves bathing with you! non-sexually at that

it’s a level of intimacy he feared so much in the asylum

however, when it’s with you, it’s so much more

the two of you sitting in the bathtub, him washing your hair, you washing his, and each other’s backs too

when your eyes close, he always blushes as if you two haven’t been together

sometimes he cries during these times trying to think what he did to deserve you

he loves you, truly, fully, so, so much.

[art credit - official art]

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midnxght-sweet-time · 2 years

Note

Can i request (naib x doll f.reader?)

(Actually i has going to request wu chang x doll f.reader but wu chang is not there in lists 🥲)

So like reader is hunter. who know hunter nickname is "broken doll" she die by suicidal or someone killed her bc they are jealous bc of her. her skill is like she can summon the mini doll version of survivor whenever some survivor is close to her the mini survivor doll will be puff of out of nowhere and if she hit the mini survivor they will have a damage of it. And the problem is f.reader is so easy to kite bc of her skill every time when she use her skill the mini survivor doll will be gone bc survivor. some of them are really fast and some of them drow pallets at her and f.reader can't speak bc you know someone killed her or suicidal.. after that some survivor will going to bully her every match. And there is nain who going to save/protect f.reader whenever someone is bullying her. And if you don't mind in ending where reader will going to revamp that she can finally sing or talk.😅

𝙰 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚢

❥︎ Paring: ♤Naib Subedar x F!Hunter!Reader

⚠︎ TW: Hurt to comfort. Naib also being a little ooc, but I pretty much soften his personality, Ganji being ooc cuz idk how he acts usually but i know he no like richy ppl n i based reader off a noble singer so ye-. Edgar being a prick. Survivors bullying hunter reader. Mentions of reader's death like poisoning.

᯽ A/N: Im not really fond of the usual damsel in distress reader especially when its a hunter but i aint here to complain.

This was pretty long as i had a whole scenario in my head n took a 5 min break doodle along wif it-

I rather draw y/n that has some hair n eyes than them being bald n almost faceless lmao.

Reader died by poisoning cuz i need a reasonable explanation how she cant speak n not she just died. Almost every hunter died n only Mary seemed to have vocal issues cuz of her chopped head n jojo having asthma cuz he probs smokes-

The sound of wood colliding on the hard cold edge is always a discouraging sound that smashes into your eardrums as the rough material scratches the side of your delicate face. The pain burns on your cheek like a familiar fire that you have gotten used to that hot tears streamed down your face on cue.

Every match was the same; a pallet to the face, the pathway kept clean, and emotionally tiring hours that brings you to a state of depression. You watched with a blurred vision as the doll on your hands slowly disappeared and footsteps of your prey got further and further away. You could never get a win. It's either a tie or a loss. Even the ties are just lucky shots being paired with the weak kiters, or the few friendly survivors that would spare you some pity.

Of all the hunters, you were the weakest, making you an easy win. You wished you'd never ended up here. If only you had been more careful in your past life, maybe you wouldn't have drunk the sweet nectar that was spiked with poison from the one you have so foolishly trusted at first sight.

Blaring alarms pierced through your ears like needles. Your eyes caught the small figures of the survivors rushing towards the door to make their escape. Their tiny bodies from a few distance away sway with the wind, scaring the crows that rested there and relishing in their victory with small bits of laughter your abnormal ears can catch; you know for sure their cheerfulness dripped with venom for you.

Defeat overwhelmed and pulled you to the ground. Your knees scraping on the blades of grass that are more merciful than most survivors that torments you for your lack of experience or disadvantages. You watch as they celebrate like it's a holiday party and continuously making mocking gestures by the open doors. A lump drops to the bottom of your stomach. The feeling of failure felt like a harsh grip; suffocating you like the poison that deprives you of any oxygen and burns your throat til your voice becomes shallow and hoarse. You remembered how you were unable to call for help as your humane life left your body and your corpse left as an artifact of who you once were. Tears blurred your vision as an attempt to shield you away from the disheartening sight and attempt to cool the burning sensation on your cheek, only to make it sting more.

A quick electric sensation courses through your veins, three times in a pattern; the game's psychic signal to you that some survivors have escaped. The daunting feeling stacked on your back like falling bricks that's building a tower in tetris. Silence filled the air now. The breeze of Lakeside attempted to comfort you with its cooling touches, brushing your hair away from your face. The empty sight however, only reminded you of your despair. It has become oddly peaceful now that the survivors are gone, even if your heart feels heavy with guilt.

That's when you noticed— you're not being sent back to the manor.

A honking noise caught your attention, followed by the consent squawks of the crows that alerted you of their location. Your head shot up at the sudden alarm; someone hasn't escaped yet.

But why?

Out of instinct, your body rushed to where that survivor might be. The crows are your aid, running their beaks, mocking the poor survivor and leading you straight to them. Your feet flew with the wind, carrying you to the upstairs of the giant ship. The red light you emit strangely from your eyes acts as a flashlight in the dark fog. The crows disappear upon your arrival.

It's almost unnoticeable, but the glowing heartbeat gave away the green hooded man that's curled up on the floor behind a batch of barrels in front of a cipher. His body was shaking, his head low to the ground and his hands were by where his ears were supposed to be. It seems like he barricaded himself in the barrels, scared of whatever monster that lurked in his imagination.

What was the mercenary still doing here?

You awkwardly stood around for a few minutes, trying to understand the position he was in. It's like he's hiding from something. Seeing him in that small space, scared and alone reminds you of a stray kitten that was abandoned in a bush. You approached closer, as slow and quiet as you can, like approaching a child. The creeks of the old worn floor made him shot up. His eyes looked at you, startled, before his brows furrowed and his growling at you like a hostile animal– wary and distrustful, but within those same eyes that glared at you, you can see a hint of what seemed like fear.

You backed up, hoping the mercenary won't attack you right then and there. Your fingers slipped loose, forgetting you ever had your weapon and it dropped, making a thud that caught him off guard. Confusion replaced his hostility once he noticed you werent here to kill him. He looked around before bringing eye contact to you. "Is- is the match over?" His body slowly loosened up the tension when he saw you nod your head. You pointed towards the open gate below the ship, in a way telling him his teammates are gone.

He became silent. The mercenary was about to walk over to you until he realized his position; trapped between barrels stacked sideways. His face displayed pure innocent confusion you never thought you'd see from him.

This was just very awkward.

The moment he places his hands on the barrels to push aside, he immediately recoils his body in pain. A loud groan erupted from his throat, making you step forward in concern. Your hands involuntarily grabbed onto a barrel and helped him push it off to the side. Shock now covered his face as he backed up to a wall when you were kneeling in front of him, your form towering above him. You were about to grab onto his hand to take a look at his injuries, but realizing you may scare him off, you just stood there with your hands out.

Even you were surprised at how upfront you can be.

He clicked his tongue when he finally realized what you wanted from him. "I'm fine, thank you. I don't need any help from a hunter." His head turned away from you, averting his eyes and shoving his injured hand behind his lap to avoid your sight on it.

You didn't move. Your eyes focused on him and the signature red light shone on him like police headlights. You're very close to him, making him feel slightly uncomfortable at your unnerving presence.

You and the mercenary don't really encounter each other a lot so it's reasonable why.

That's when you remembered; You're close enough to manifest a doll of him.

Strings of different colors appeared from thin air as the hand you had out for the mercenary created a cute little doll of him. The mercenary felt a strange sensation on his body, like the feeling of thinning into a string and being tied into a knot. Like when the white guard would siphon his soul– only the pull of his soul seems to be attaching himself with the doll as he feels compelled to it. He can feel his heart stopping, as in he doesnt know how to react , standing still in time and watching helplessly..

The big button eyes of the doll stares at you with the same bright blue as his eyes. You noticed his doll version has a slight torn opening, little specks of cotton threatening to spill out from that crack.

That must be his injury.

"Woah, what are you doing?" His tone was skeptical and you responded by lifting up the doll and pointing to its mimicked wounds. Your head tilted at him to ask how he got that. He seemed to catch on quickly and looked at his own injury.

"Honestly– I don't know…"

You looked around, seeing any signs of sharp objects until you caught sight of the familiar crimson color on the edge of the cipher nearest to you. The cipher's light gives you a clarification of its dull color which tells you the blood has dried. You pointed at the dried up blood, wondering if that's where he had hurt himself. He looked at where you pointed at and for a moment his eyes widened and his pupils shifted from the edge of the cipher to the cipher itself.

He was speechless, he didn't say anything until you snapped your fingers in front of him, crashing his train of thoughts. "Oh- I must've been careless." Scratching the back of his neck. You can see a single sweat rolling down his head.

Your focus is back on the doll. A needle suddenly appeared in your other hand, making the mercenary even more tense. Lining up the sharp tip, you pierced through the delicate fabric of the doll, causing the man in front of you to suddenly twitch up in response, feeling the poking sensation on his skin. "H-hey- what are you doing?!"

You ignored his yelping. Stitching away at the small slit, securing back the cotton to its rightful place and closing the gaps. By the time you snapped the excess string to proclaim your completion, the thread that was stitched into the hand slowly morphed with the fabric, disappearing without a trace and making it look as good as new.

The mercenary watched you before looking back at his hand. Sure enough, just like the doll counterpart of him, his wound is gone. Like his injury never happened.

"T-Thanks." The hooded man nodded as a small mimic of bowing. The confusion never left his face. He was in pure shock but also sparkles of curiosity mixed in those same eyes.

His head lifts up once again, catching the gentle expression on his face. Your hair flowing with the wind as the moonlight showered you in its heavenly glow. He spotted the scratch on your cheek and reached out to touch it, but the moment he touched your skin, not only you moved away, he also retracted his hand in surprise.

"What the fuck-?" He muttered before touching your face again, making you recoil again. "What the fuck?!" The confusion was beyond you at this point, making your head swirl, thinking what you did wrong. Was it because you moved away from his advances?

"You're fucking wood!"

Ah nevermind, that's why.

You slowly nodded your head at him. Your eyebrows furrowed with deep concern, opening your mouth and pointing at the thin line by your chin that shows you are a wooden puppet. How is being wood even remotely more astonishing than the other hunters you're sure he has seen before, like the octopus god, the Feaster or the literal lady made of wax on Phillip's shoulder?

"Do you ever talk?" He grumbles at your lack of speech. You stayed silent, your eyes narrowed at him as to give an obvious answer he already knows. A sigh escaped his mouth as he slowly reached. out to the scratch on your cheek, this time you stood still and his fingers hovered ever so slightly above your hard flesh.

"Does it hurt?"

You shook your head. It doesn't hurt anymore with minutes to recover. The scratch would recover once you returned to the manor.

"Do you… have a name?"

Your ear twitches at his words. Your name? Do you even remember ever since appearing here? You stared at him with wide soulless eyes, deep in thought. Searching the darkest and deepest parts of your mind in search of anything that represents your identity.

Nothing.

Your head feels numb.

You can't remember.

Why can't you remember?

You remember your death but now who you are?

Who are you?

Why are you even here?

"Hello?!"

You focus on two hands put together in front of your face. The clap that followed with it took a little bit more time to process. What were you thinking about again? You shook your head to clear your mind, but it seems like the mercenary took it as a sign of no.

"Well- uh. This is awkward…"

Silence filled the air, an awkwardness accompanying the both of you. The right index finger slowly raises up and points to him. The mercenary didn't seem to understand and even pointed at himself to mimic you. "Yes, me?" Your mouth creeks open as the wooden edges scrap each other. The mercenary stared at you for a moment as you stood still with your mouth still agape, wondering what you were trying to ask for. "Are you… hungry?" He queries, head tilted as to wonder if you hunters even need to eat.

Your expressions showed signs of struggle as your head twitched back and forth, leaving the poor man in front of you with even more concern. To him you look like a cat trying to hack up a hairball and with the sudden hoarse moans you just emitted, he was very much worried for you— as weird as that sounds to him.

"Y–our. Na–m–e."

His eyes widen at you, not because you suddenly spoke but the fact your voice sounded worse than an obnoxious squawk of a duck. Does being a puppet mean you have horrible vocal cords? Or did something happen when you died that damaged your ability to speak?

"Naib. Im- Naib." He subconsciously voiced out, not realizing he revealed his name to a hunter until he snapped out of his own disbelief. "Nya–eb-" "Stop. Just– don't speak. You're hurting yourself." He puts his hand out as a gesture of concern much to your disappointment. It's not just because your voice is ear wrenching, but more because he can tell you're struggling to even pronounce a single letter; and he can't help but cringe at your attempt.

You hang your head low, your eyes hiding behind your fringe and struggle to maintain eye contact. The mercenary, who you now acquainted to be Naib, let out a heavy exhale as if he'd been holding his breath for too long. You flinched when he stood up from his spot and stretched his limbs. The sound of his bones cracking made your eye twitch. Naib stood in silence for a brief moment, looking over the open door that called out to him to escape. His eyes then shifts to you, your head still looking down and your thin index finger drawing imaginary shapes on the dusty wooden floor, feeling fiddly with embarrassment creeping up your back; hoping the mercenary would leave and end the match entirely.

"Hey."

You shot your head up. His hand right in front of you, an offer to lift you up from the same hand he refused to give you to check on his wound. You stared back at him with wide eyes, wondering if his action was sincere. In embarrassment, he looked away with his eyes furrowed and lips in a sharp frown.

He normally wouldnt do this, especially not to a hunter. But with you he knows you are more docile than most. Perhaps it wouldnt be so bad to trust you, right?

Another match that had you sentence to misery. 4 ciphers has already been done over the course of this match. You have grown tired and eventually decided to avoid any coming survivors and decided to roam free in the map you're held captive in. The crooked circus music invaded your ears as the carousel horse slowly guided you into a never ending loop.

You were in blissful peace. Following along to the distorted tune with your raspy voice. Ever since you're meeting with the mecernary, you have been exercising your vocal cords. Mary has also encouraged you to do so. Saying if you keep exerting your voice and cough once in a while, you will be able to speak normally soon. So that's what you're doing.

The last cipher popped in the near distance and the blaring alarms of the exit doors lit up either sides of the map like a beacon. The loud noise stings your ears like a loud cry of a child, warning you to leave the area and wait for the survivors to escape. Slowly letting yourself fall from the metal saddle on the back of the horse. Your inhumane legs carried you from the middle to the bridge, your footsteps echoed as your heels made constant contact to the stone floor of the bridge. As you went in to the main building, shifting passed the large curtains thats a makeshift door, your eyes caught something specific.

A lone canvas with it's stand supporting it in the middle of the stage. Oddly reminds you of yourself whenever you sat quietly on the comfy chair of the waiting room. The colors on the white material were vibrant and eye catching, hypnotizing you with its glorious image. You went closer and noticed— it was a painting of you. A painting of what you looked like without your wooden doll features.

What you once were.

Your mouth hung agap and your hands once again dropped your weapon to the floor. Something about this painting mesmerized you. Was it because it was a picture of you in a certain way? Or was it because of the radiant colors that blend together perfectly?

A sense of collusion crashed onto the back of your head, causing you to stumble on your feet and crash onto the painting you were jusg admiring.

"You insolent fool! My creation is now ruined!"

You lifted your face up, your dress and face tainted with specks of paint that was still left to dry. You wince at the slight pain that came with the fall. Another harsh bump on your head. If you were ever human, it could leave a bruise.

"Oh shut it with your fine art. We got bigger fish to fry."

Laughter filled your ears, and not the good kind. You look up to see both the Painter and the Batter in front of you. The painter with his arms cross and sneering above you with a snobby look while the Batter had a more smug look.

"Look at this one. How can they call her a hunter when she acts more like a mouse."

The painter's words seared through your wooden skin. His shadowed eyes piercing through your weak form like predator in the dark. Meanwhile the Batter juggled a ball in his hand, he was more focused on the noble dress you wore that was now tarnished. A snicker slipped passed his mouth, a twisted satisfaction was clearly expressed on his face.

You watched helplessly, you were about to grab your weapon until it was knocked away by the feet of thr painter. His other feet stomping on your hand that tried to attempt your escape. "Dont even think about it. How are your little dolls now?" A ball was dropped onto your head before rolling back to the Batter as a taunting game. "Can we leave now? I dont see any reason to continue this." The taller male was now the one to cross his arms.

Bang!

The sound of a well known flare gun fired. The Painter was quickly interrupted by a sudden blast to the face, making him stumble and fall off the stage. Both you and the Batter seemed shocked. You were too scared to look behind you after what you just witness as whoever shot that flare made his presence known with the slow steps that held so much animosity with their approached. You closed your eyes, internally grateful for whoever shot that flare gun but still too much in shock to move.

A small breeze flows passed you, your savior dashed in front of you. Their voice sends you into a sense of warmth when they finally spoke.

"Stop fucking around. Lets go."

It was Naib.

You looked up in surprise seeing the mercenary holding the Batter by his collar pushing him forward to the exit before walking over to the Painter by the floor still writhing from the aftermath. "If you dont want another hit to your pretty little face, I suggest you leave." His grip is now on The Painter's collar. You can see from a small angle, the anger om his face. His eyes fold so tightly with his lips raised up high til his nose scrunched up and teeth revealed.

Yeah that man's pissed.

The shorter male in his grasps looks at him with the same angered look, challenging his death stare but didnt dare to talk back. He only gave Naib the click of his tongue as a spitful agreement before shoving the mecernary off of him. Standing there for a good few seconds before running out of the building.

Naib looked out at the exit for a few moments. His face still filled with fury before closing his eyes to take a quick breather. Turning back to you he picked you up by the shoulder. Slowly bringing you to the stairs and letting you take a seat there.

"Fuck your not alright."

You were slightly taken aback at his straightforwardness. Yet his keen observation was much appreciated. You nodded sheepishly, dusting any remaining dirt off your dress. Naib sighed and scratched the back of his neck, looking at the stage where the left behind balls and the empty flare gun accompanied the broken canvas stand and the tarnished painting; all laid on the middle of the stage like a wreaked performance just happened. He growled, catching you off guard before calming himself down.

Another whiff of silence flew passed you two before Naib reached his hand out to caressed the side of your cheek, making you perk up. When he noticed his irrational action, he quickly pulled away and held onto your shoulder instead, correcting his action.

"You go back and take care okay? I want you to report those two to Miss Nightingale. She will ban them from matches for a month for that."

You nodded your head, a warm feeling crept up your chest. He nods back at you before turning his back, about to leave you. You quickly stood up, jumping down from a step of the stairs you sat on with your voice croaked out to him. He stopped and looked back, his head tilts to your attention. As the distance sound of the gate opening and the tingling sensations buzzing in your mind. The cool breeze that had always been there for you, encouraged you; giving you to confidence to finally speak like a chirp of a bird.

"Thank you."

#naib subedar #idv naib #identity v naib #idv mercenary #mercenary idv #identity v mercenary #identity v fanfic #idv fanfic #identity v x reader #naib x reader #idv x reader #identity v x you #naib subedar x reader #idv mercenary x reader #idv writing #identity v writing

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fishermanshook · 3 months

Text

[n]sfw Drabble w/ Orpheus

Thinking about how Orpheus just loves you so much, his heart physically hurts when you confess to him that you don’t like how your body looks. Every day is filled with dread when you see the added fat on your stomach and thighs. Orpheus just wished you could see how beautiful your body is.

Which lead to where you are now. Maybe it was for the better, but you can’t think as Orpheus’ cock splits you down the middle as he fucks you in front of your mirror. Cum drips down your legs from earlier sessions as he whispers just how much he loves you into your ears. He won’t stop until you realize just how lovely you are.

note: is vent smut a thing? cause this is basically what this is 😇🙏 if your reading this, go read my new Demi fic 😈

#⋆౨🎞️ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ PLAYBOY NOW PRESENTS...#smut #minor writing smut #Orpheus idv #orpheus deross #idv the novelist #idv x reader #idv #idv smut #orpheus x reader smut #orpheus smut #identity v orpheus #idv orpheus x reader #idv orpheus #mirror sex

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stellari-s · 1 year

Text

☀️

request; yes, by anonymous. requests open!

wc; 1 015.

tags; morningstar! ithaqua, gn! survivor! reader, yandere vibes! ithaqua, canon-typical violence, obsessive and unhealthy behavior, toxic dynamic, it's morningstar y'all he may be pretty but he ain't a good person, reader also isn't the most stable, i wrote this in the span of 2 ✈️ flights.

summary; only he can destroy the sun in your heart. nobody else but him. and he wouldn't have it any other way.

this is an unspoken contract, written in spilt blood.

a contract between you and him, both entrapped within the large, spiky gates that dares and threatens the world to find out just what is happening beyond.

it is a secret, known to none but you two.

oletus manor has over time forged you into someone you can no longer recognize. looking in the mirror is impossible without witnessing the empty shell standing before you, staring back at your dull eyes. even now you somehow have a distinct, sharp awareness that you had stepped through these gates with a wish in mind, but you have long forgotten what it was.

constant “games” twist your mind’s perceptions and play with your innermost fears and desires, and you have probably been spiked with some drug before, since sometimes your memories either feel overwhelmingly vivid enough to leave tingles on your skin for days or you have no recollection whatsoever. at times, your stomach feels like maggots are chewing inside - perhaps it’s an aftereffect.

over and over and over.

whenever someone gets injured, you don’t have the energy to care. at some point, the cuts and wounds that you originally noticed are no longer tended for.

your body, fully used to the pain, has grown completely numb.

you know that, and while fear slowly seeps into your heart upon that realization, you can’t bring yourself to care at this point.

everything is the same… until you find yourself before a face you don’t recognize. his silver braided hair contrasts with his black attire and an orangish red cape, and his axe is large, but he doesn’t seem to have trouble wielding it.

what stands out to you the most though is his mask. it only covers the upper half of his face, so you can see a wide smile that almost goes ear to ear, but his eyes are completely hidden by that black crown-like mask with a single faced sun in the center where his forehead is. chains surround it; it would surely give any normal person shivers down their spine.

everything about this person screams danger.

but you had twisted your ankle trying to turn on your heel and slam the pallet on him, so now you are rendered unable to move, sitting on the ground while holding your ankle and staring blankly up at that ominous mask.

“you,” he starts, his voice laced with a sweet poison that makes your palms sweat and your heart beat right out of your chest, “just tried to stun me, didn’t you?” he breaks the pallet like crushing a bug with those sharp stilts. “yet you couldn’t do it. how pathetic.”

even while calling you pathetic, he can’t conceal a sadistic giggle from escaping his lips.

“anyone would do the same,” you reply flatly, narrowing your eyes.

“really now? then care to tell me why everyone else trembles like a leaf in front of me? but whatever.” he lifts his axe, and you widen your eyes, half in fear and half in awe at his graceful motion and the way his axe gleams beneath the moonlight. “we can change that.”

you can’t avoid the blow. the blade of the axe digs into your skin near your shoulder. you feel the warmth of your own blood spilling from the wound, and that familiar dullness spreads around that area.

it’s a numbing type of pain. it’s not enough.

just then, an idea pops into your mind. it’s a crazy idea - certainly not one a normal person would even dream to ideate. but for days, perhaps months or years, any sense of normalcy has been robbed from you.

you grab the handle of the blade and push it in deeper. gradually, with more blood staining your clothes, the dull ache grows more sharp.

it is a more genuine, raw pain - a sensation you haven’t felt in such a long time. as strange as it sounds, it makes you feel alive for the first time in who knows how long.

you’re honestly relieved to know you still have some semblance of humanity left in you, but on the other hand, the axe-wielding hunter seems puzzled. that maniacal smile is replaced with a slight frown, from which you can sense confused curiosity.

“deeper,” you say, “aren’t you going to make me tremble before you ‘like a leaf’? if so, then push it in deeper.”

at first, the hunter seems to be contemplating something, completely still as if he is a statue. then his lips stretch into a grin. he complies with your request, digging his axe in until you wince and tears start to sting your eyes before he withdraws it.

through your tear-blurred vision, you can make out the hunter’s sick glee.

if it’s him… if he has that smile on his face, then i don’t mind.

your head starts to spin as you try to stand while putting most of your weight on the ankle that’s not twisted. the hunter takes hold of one of your shoulders with one hand and cups your cheek with the other, his claws digging into your skin in both places. he applies pressure to the wound though to help a little with the bleeding.

now that you can see him a lot closer, he looks very much like a normal boy. not really non-human in any way. you imagine under that mask of his is just a normal face you would be able to see down the street.

it is clear from your interactions, though, that he’s got one too many screws loose.

“let me break you,” he says, “let me destroy the sun in your heart, and then i’ll give you a new world.” his voice is gentle but deceptive, holding the poisonous allure of a demon.

you know that, but you are still drawn in hopelessly. “it can only be you,” you reply in between uneven breaths, “nobody else - only you.”

the hunter’s grin widens, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“i have a feeling we’ll get along very well.”

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olliesneweyes · 13 days

Text

Arcing sparks [OUTDATED! I've already rewritten it]

(Luca and Alva reunite in Oletus Manor. It goes... Worryingly.)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The moments that lead to Alva's death were caused by a catastrophic misunderstanding.

Luca found his father's manuscripts the day before. Appalled by the thought Alva was stealing from him, he'd try to work on the invention that he and Alva shared several times without Alva's knowledge, to spite him.

And spite him it did. The two had an argument about it one day. Alva apparently had no idea what Luca meant by "robbing" his father's research, or "blocking" Luca from completing it. Luca simply left to do things away from him.

It was only that night, when Luca was caught working on the machine alone, that Alva knew what it was like to feel robbed. He yelled in anger that Luca was the one stealing, and he charged towards Luca determined to find out what the hell he thought he was doing.

Luca was very startled by this. Panicking, he hit Alva with the parts he was working on in a panic, only realising far too late that those parts were highly electrical. Alva was dead on contact. Luca was somehow spared by the deadliness of the current, only to be arrested the next morning.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

In truth, neither were attempting to steal anything at all. The revived Alva, after many nights spent contemplating the moments leading to his demise, began to wonder if that was the conclusion he should come to.

Luca thought much differently, but not in the way you might imagine.

Prison had taken a harsh toll on Luca's sanity while he was there. Hated by everyone less fortunate than him, and taunted by those who knew what he did, his memories of the events began to twist and warp.

A cacophony of head injuries and the other prisoners' harsh cries of "murderer!" started to make his judgement slip as his memory got more disjointed and fuzzy around the edges. If everyone said he was a murderer, then he had to be one. Simple as that.

Despite how simple it seemed, it was nowhere close to truth. In a mind drenched with guilt, a desperate accident turned into an attack in the heat of the moment. (Luca couldn't have been careless enough with his delicate machinery to hit someone with hundreds of volts on accident, right?)

A misunderstanding between potentially stolen ideas turned into uncertainty if those manuscripts were even his father's at all. (Why would Alva be so confused about what he meant if they were?)

A strong bond between geniuses that turned sour at the last moment turned into the smartest man in the world and his forgetful, impulsive, stupid apprentice. (After all, he can't have been good at all if he can't even remember what they did together properly. What did he do to deserve such a perfect man to mentor him?)

What once was an unfortunate sequence of events was now all his fault. And the guilt suffocated him.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It was years before he and Alva would meet again, now within the halls of Oletus Manor. Alva could recognise the man in front of him as clear as day. But Luca could not do the same back. He barely even remembered his mentor's face. To him, this man was just the Hermit, as he introduced himself.

Something about the Hermit's words strangely calmed the Prisoner. It was like he recalled it from a distant memory, a life he could never come back to. But he couldn't recognise who it was from. The Hermit only gave a soft smile when Luca brought it up.

After a while, The Hermit was allowed into Luca's room. They were surprised to find the sheer amount of devices and gadgets strewn across wall floor and table. The Hermit offered help with Luca's mechanical problems, (since he clearly had a lot of them) with only one type of meagre compensation. To listen to him talk.

And Luca found it strangely easy to talk to this stranger, who felt soothingly familiar in the way they helped him. Almost like a father. Or a teacher. Or a... Mentor? He wasn't sure. But he kept talking, even if the stranger never said their name.

Alva wanted to know what Luca's side of the story was. That was his main goal, after all. But he didn't need it yet. It was enough to see his former apprentice ramble on about anything he wanted. Just so he could pretend things were still alright, for a while. He found himself smiling, several times. Luca smiled back.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It was in those meetings that Alva began to prod. He would never force Luca to tell him what happened, but he asked. And Luca answered. Vaguely at first, but sometimes it'd spiral into a whole rant.

First the Hermit asked about prison, and Luca blabbered about how much he hated when fellow prisoners would treat him like dirt and kick him and yell at him and hit him and— he stopped as he noticed the Hermit quite clearly boiling over with rage, even as they promised that they were angry at how he was treated, not him. The scars that couldn't have been from normal inventing suddenly started to make more sense.

Another day, the Hermit asked about his life before that, and he rattled on about how his mentor and him had been friends despite Luca's struggles, until an "incident" happened and everything fell apart. The man didn't seem surprised when Luca said how much he thought his mentor hated him, but was quite a bit more surprised when he started explaining how great of a man that mentor was. The Hermit joked about not expecting compliments, only to get "you remind me of him! Just... Less intimidating?" Thrown his way. They'd never thought about how much pressure Luca must have been in underneath them.

The day he tried asking about the Invention was the first time Luca cried in front of him. Luca had frozen up when asked to explain, and the words flooded out like a waterfall as he broke down, saying how he couldn't even remember the what damn thing, or how it worked, or what to do, or anything. The Hermit held him, then. Not close, but enough to comfort. They pretended not to hear Luca's quiet cries for his mentor.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

One night, after preparing for this moment the whole week before, the Hermit came into Luca's room with a single request. "Tell me everything you remember about what happened between you and your mentor when he died, and I'll never ask for anything from you again. I promise."

And Luca stares in disbelief for a while, until he bolsters himself enough to speak. He starts slow, reiterating things he's said before. Invention, Mentor, everything was okay, then a problem arose.

He found manuscripts that he believed belonged to his father. He'd never seen them, so he thought Alva had been hiding them intentionally to steal from them.

[Alva didn't even think of that at the time, though he's wondered about it many times after he died, of course. But Luca should know they belonged to his father. His name was plastered everywhere on them.]

After he found them, he explains there was an argument where he was harsh, too harsh, and ran off to where the invention lay in order to calm down.

[The argument part was correct, but he wasn't harsh. He was just confusing, and didn't explain. The entire last part was wrong, however. He'd done several other things before that.]

He tells about how his mentor had walked in, and in a seething fit of rage for what had happened he'd picked up the tools he was using and— it was an accident. He swears it was an accident.

[Alva had barged in, not walked. And the replay of that fateful moment that's forever stuck on loop in his brain shows Luca startled, not angry. But whether or not it was an accident doesn't matter right now.

Because the man he took under his wing for all these years is crumpled on the floor under the weight of his breathless confessions.]

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Luca clings to the man at the first offer, feeling himself shatter into tiny pieces. This man should hate him for all he's done. Do what the others did back then, hurt him, condemn him, kill him too! But the man doesn't. Luca doesn't realise he's not the only one crying as he begs. For forgiveness, for pain, for hatred, for this to stop, for— for Alva.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Luca knows, somewhere, that his mentor is here to hold him. But that somewhere likely isn't part of his conscious mind. But Alva hears his name, over and over again, as Luca collapses into him. He doesn't know if Luca can even recognise his response, but he calls back anyway

"Luca, it's me. I'm here. You're okay. You're okay..."

Even as Luca tries to fight against a sea of emotions, that voice he now recognises makes him fracture more. He doesn't let go, even as he drowns in it. Even when he passes out.

Alva doesn't know what to do. But it'll start with an apology. His own apology, not Luca's broken one. Maybe it'll be like old times. Maybe it'll be better.

They'll be okay. And that's a promise he can keep.

#idv #identity v #alva lorenz #luca balsa #fanfiction #luca x alva shippers dni #they are father and adopted son to me #ollie writes

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