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fishermanshook · 2 months

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ASK: sooo you mentioned that you wanted someone to ask for ganji or orpheus smut so here i am 😆😆 so, general ganji smut hcs? or maybe just sfw nsfw hcs of taking a bath with him? or perhaps first time hcs? Soooo many ideas

requester: @ch6douin

HOLD ME TIGHT AND DON'T LET GO

(batter , novelist x gn!reader) separate [N]SFW hc’s

# MINOR WRITING SMUT ⚠️ , reader is gn , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

What’s more intimate than bathing together under the moonlight? Holding each other in your arms, as the other shakes and cries from the overstimulation you’ve caused to their body. Seeing you, their darling, twitch, and moan from the pleasure they give you is something they need engraved in their mind and memory.

How can they help themselves when you look so stunning right now?

꒰wc꒱ 1.3k

The Batter

SFW

Getting close to the Batter is an accomplishment in itself, but establishing a relationship with him earns you some bragging rights. Ganji’s emotional (and physical?) walls are literal fortresses in themself, so to have a relationship with him takes time, patience, and communication. The more the two of you talk, the fewer bumps there will be.

Once the two of you start dating it will be a lot smoother from there on out.

In the early stages of your relationship, if you were trying to bathe alongside him, Ganji is automatically shutting it down. He’s not comfortable doing something that he finds so intimate already and he’d rather do it later in the relationship.

When he does find your relationship solidified, he asks you if you would like to join him in the bath. Where the sun pours in from the windows and gleams across your skin. It feels nice to be this close to his, with your chest against his. Skin to skin. Heart to heart.

Ganji might ask you to wash his hair, or, as long as your hands aren't wet, run your fingers through his hair. It's such a soothing thing for the man that he could fall asleep if he weren’t in the bath.

But on certain and rare occasions, the Batter may or may not find it harder than usual to keep focus. Especially when your ass is pressed right against his— oh god. He might explode if he doesn’t have his way with you right now.

[N]SFW

“Fuck, Ganji! Yes right there!” the words spilled out of your mouth as the Batter pumped his dick in and out of you. You should’ve become numb to any feeling down there, but it’s your 5th round and you swear the twitching of his cock becomes even more prominent with every thrust.

The Batter seems to have an unwavering stamina, but you sense his tiredness growing in every thrust. Yet he keeps it up. He can’t get the image of you bouncing up and down on him out of his brain, and he wishes to soak up the memory and feeling before your touch eventually wilts away.

“Tell me I feel good, love,” Ganji whispers in your ear with that deep, raspy voice that you love. It never fails to send chills down your spine as you moan out his name and praise him like it’s going out of style.

“You so amazing darling,! Fill me up so good, ugh please keep going,” you groan out as his name continues to spill from your mouth like a mantra. You take him so well, your eyes filled with lust and love.

Ganji senses that you're about to reach your climax, and he’s not far behind you. It seems only now you realize that his hips have started to meet yours in a lustful rhythm neither of you want to end. With a final kiss, you moan out his name one last time before coming.

“Yes darling— come for me,” Ganji says as you come undone on his cock, coating his in your essence once more. The Batter eventually thrusts into you sucking in a breath of air as he follows suit.

The aftermath leaves both of you tired and drowsy. Using the last bit of your energy, you help clean up Ganji and yourself before making the trek back to your shared bed.

“I love you,” Ganji states as he lays a gentle kiss on your forehead. You hummed back in response, closing your eyes to get some well-deserved rest.

Aftercare is an obvious must. It doesn’t matter how tired he is Ganji will help clean you up. So while it doesn’t explicitly state that here, he did make sure to help wipe you down.

Ganji just wants to make you feel good, but also won’t deny pleasure as a response. As long as you feel like you're going to burst, he’ll feel good too.

The Novelist

SWF

The Novelist isn’t one to trust easily, let alone fall in love as quickly as he did. He’s quick to judge others on their behavior and who they surround themselves with. You must’ve made an amazing first impression on him, as it’s become a lasting one even months later.

Orpheus finds himself confessing to you using a heartfelt letter that took him weeks to write. Don’t believe him? Then maybe the crumbled drafts decorating his bedroom floor will convince you otherwise.

Regarding bathing together, he’s not entirely against the idea. Orpheus thinks just that preferably, he’d want to do it later on in the relationship when trust has further been built. He’s not rushing to have you with him in the bath, and it doesn’t seem like you are either.

Although, he can’t deny the pleasant thought of holding you oh so close to him. A glass of red wine is held in your hands as he massages out any areas of tension across your back and other areas. To have you wash his hair and try (miserably) to keep the soap out of his eyes.

It’s all adorable to think of, which leaves him to inviting you into the tub more often than not. As you lay on his chest, hands intertwined, he can’t stop thinking about how lucky he is to have you.

This time though, the rose petals and candles that decorate the bathroom floor tell a different story. Leaving you to wonder if Orpheus had ever written something like this before.

[N]SFW

Orpheus wants the both of you to feel good, which is why he refuses to stop when you're begging him to. He works away at your neck first, covering it in hickeys as his fingers twist and pinch your nipples.

“Orpheus please— need you so badly,” you whine into his ear as he pulls away from your hickey-covered neck to face you.

“But darling I thought you wanted this,” Orpheus states as he presses kisses along your jawline before finally moving inside you. Drawing a low moan from you as he pushes himself inside. “Shit, always so tight for me no matter how many times I do this huh?”

It doesn’t matter how many times the two of you do this, he always makes you feel too good for words to describe. He touches all the sensitive parts, kisses all the right spots, and always hits the right spot. His accuracy is precise and has you coming in no time.

Your wet hands glide through his hair and pull his head towards yours. In other situations, he’d pull your hand away and sulk because “now my hair is soaking”. Now though, he wouldn’t want anything else but to have his face against yours. To listen to the melodies that fall from your mouth. To hear his name fall from your lips.

“Come on daring, lemme hear more of you.” Orpheus managed to grunt out as he pounds into you, the water and soap around you creating waves around you.

“Feel so good—Orpheus I want all of you!” You shout out as you scratch and claw at his back. Your neck and collarbone are littered with hickeys and warm spots from where his soft lips were earlier.

Sooner or later, you're gushing from his cock. Your back arched in a way that has him drooling from his mouth and shooting loads into you that feel like they'll never stop.

Once the situation has calmed down, he'll help clean up and tuck the two of you into bed. With a final kiss to the lips and a shared "I love you" goodnight, you two drift far off into sleep.

Orpheus is a gentleman at heart, but despite that, he'll tease you a bit before giving you what you want. It's always worth it in the end and always makes the experience just 10 times more pleasurable for both of you.

note: hi poookieeee,,,, apology’s for how long this was left in my drafts 🌝 hope your happy with this sjsjajakqllemsc

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

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heartshapedbubble · 6 months

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and now, for a request that took me six months to start writing and two months to finish due to personal stuff. jesus christ i should start including financial compensation alongside my fics.

anyways happy spooky szn everyone!! now that my reqs are finally empty i'll be reworking my page soon and opening them again💞

unspoken words, an orpheus x maid reader fanfic📕

tags/heads up: reader is a maid, gender not specified, one sided enemies to lovers kinda????, suggestive only if you squint really hard and get your eyes reaaaally close to the screen (theres only kissing tbh)

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Being a survivor was never easy. Peer pressure from both your team and people outside it, dealing with all sorts of blows directed right at you - either the physical ones, by the hunter, or the verbal ones from the other survivors.

But being a survivor AND a servant? It made things even worse.

Right after a match, it was only a matter of time when you'd hear groans and whines about how there's no tea and biscuits served in the living room, how there's so much dust on library shelves, how stained the floor in the hall is. And there was no time to catch a break, hell, no time to heal either. You roughly wiped your bloodstained knees, plucked out pieces of wood that dug themselves into your palms, and got back to work. As drops of remaining blood rolled down your leg and you felt your hips crack each time you bent down, you got back to your everyday cleaning service. As you were a maid - the only one that was available at all times, at least, and the only one who was actually living and not just a stitched-up corpse - most if not all of the household manor duties ended up a burden on your back. Strolling between the survivor side and the hunter side, you served warm cups of lemon tea, handed clean towels, even polished shoes. And my god, there was no mercy from either side. Everything was always "not good enough", and most of the time you barely even got a "thank you" handed back. One time, one especially daring hunter dared to spit on you as you scrubbed the tiles beneath him - let's just say that the handle of your broom got to his ankles quite quickly.

The maid life was ugly, but it had its benefits, too. For example, you heard all sorts of juicy gossip dealt from mouth to mouth, from ear to ear, dark secrets from every single person inhabiting the manor. And as most people ignored you unless they needed some unimportant favor from you, in the meantime there was plenty of alone time you could use up until the next bell ring. Curled up in a hidden part of the library, a plate stacked with softened butter cookies by your feet, your free time was spent dozing off on the soft, velvet cushions of the hard sofa by the foggy window, your eyes occasionally skimming through a yellowed book.

"Oh, sorry." Helena mumbled as the tip of her cane accidentally scratched your hand as you scrubbed the floor. "I knew you were somewhere in front of me, but I didn't know where exactly."

"It's all good, Hele." Helena was one of the more polite residents, but it was just part of her nature - shy, polite, respectful. Compared to everyone else, she was just a kid after all.

You achingly checked the grandfather clock looming over you, waiting eagerly until it rang for five o'clock and signaled your break for the day. Yesterday you stumbled over a really good book, with a fascinating plot decked into at least five hundred pages. You barely got to skim over the first few when you heard a whine from the living room, demanding a serving of pastries. It kept you up all day long and you could barely contain yourself from running to your little haven straight away.

At last, your deserved break came, and you almost tripped over the carpet folds as you ran towards the rusty trapdoor separating you from your one-hour paradise. Yet, as you lunged right for the piled-up cushions, you noticed a figure.

Someone.

Sitting on your sofa.

Reading a book.

Not just a random book.

The exact same one you picked up and tucked under the pillows yesterday, so no one can get their grubby little hands on it except you.

And, to top it all off, it was no other than the novelist, Orpheus, who was sifting impatiently through the pages, splayed on your sofa like a frog, his leg bouncing nervously.

Ugh, that Orpheus. He was polite and all, one of the exceptions, good-looking even, but god did something about him rub you the wrong way. He always said hello, said goodbye, said thank you and please, smiled back at you, yet...

"Oh, good afternoon, ___!"

The position he was in right now really wasn't helping.

"Hello, sir Orpheus." The "sir" title you had to use out of respect awfully repulsed you, even more so than "lady". Perhaps it was the undertone of uttermost submission unavoidably coming with it. "May I ask you, what are you doing here?"

"Oh. Well, I was on a.... little expedition, will you", he chuckled, nervously playing with the buttons on the cuff of his shirt, "Y'know, messing with the bookshelves and what not, when I stumbled upon this fine little room. Seems like I'm not the first one to discover it, am I?"

"No, you're not." You forced yourself to smile, and sat right by him, the cushions dipping under your weight and slightly pulling you two closer. "I've claimed it as my own, in fact. I believe you don't mind that, do you?"

"I-I don't mind it at all! No no, how could I? Well, I..." He mumbled nonsense, trying to hide his face as he cleaned his monocle. He seemed especially nervous today, and he wasn't the calmest in general, either. "...may I assume you don't mind me staying a bit longer here, do you?"

You sighed. Well, maybe some company instead isn't a bad thing. Even if it was him. "I'll let it slip this time. Want some cookies?" You pulled out a scratched tin box from under one of the big cushions, and messed with the tightly clasped lid. "They're a bit stale, but they taste just fine."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. Hesitatingly, he picked a crumbling cookie and wrapped it in his handkerchief. "Thank you for welcoming me so nicely despite your... condition, y'know. I can only imagine how hard it can be having the role of a maid and a competitor at the same time." There was pity in his voice, a hint of internalized shame, maybe. Willingly or not, his last sentence created an uncomfortable silence between you two, and it was only a matter of time before one of you broke it.

"...You're welcome", you went in head-first into the conversation, "but I really don't need your pity. I didn't get a lot of it in the first place, and I sure don't need it now. My life is what it is, and neither of us can change it."

He sighed. "I suppose you're right", he said as he got up and stretched, "just saying, though.. accepting empathy or help here and there really isn't that humbling as it seems." He calmly walked through the trapdoor, as if he didn't say anything.

God. You decide to be nice for once and you get back a lesson instead? How fun. Especially when it's from someone who you thought you could confide in. But you're not going to allow his words to get to your skull - there's so much better things to think of compared to that....

"My apologies, dear." Michiko whispered as she quickly tiptoed away, accidentally bumping into you the second before.

"I'd advise you to be more careful where you tread, doll", Joseph suddenly appeared in the hallway, weaving his words with his usual husky yet elegant voice, "I believe you don't want any accidents to occur while working, hm?"

Out of almost all of the (adult) hunters, Joseph was the most talkative. And you were no exception - he regularly spoke to the other survivors, often scaring them by whispering from behind their back or jumping out of the shadows. He wasn't trying to form strong relationships, obviously, but it seemed like he wasn't the type to withold his comments. After some time spent observing you deduced that Joseph might be a little bit too fascinated with you - or at least a little bit too interested in chatting with you.

"No, Joseph, I, in fact, don't.", you groaned as you threw the broom back in your bucket, "Besides, shouldn't you be more worried about your own wellbeing, old man? Should I bring you some balm for your sore limbs?"

He clicked his tongue. "Tch. You know I have good intentions, dear." One blink later and he already merged with the shadows, looking for someone else to talk to.

"Woah. What was all that about?" You heard a voice behind you, a bit shaky and uncertain. It was - you sighed - Orpheus again, in his hands a ceramic tray stacked with porcelain dishes and silverware, a warm scent of mint emitting from the glossy teapot. He wasn't having a good time trying to balance it in his arms.

"Nothing. Just Joseph being Joseph. Mind me taking this for you?" you grabbed the tray in an instant, now much more stable under your grip.

"I...do, actually." He slowly pulled the tray back towards him, a bit hesitantly now as his hands shook beneath it again. "I thought once you finish we could sit down for tea. Y'know, just the two of us. In the little room in the library. I can bug Norton for some of his tres leches if you want. Or maybe Margaretha for pierogi if you're craving something savory instead... Sorry, I wanted it to be a suprise." He looked away, bashfully, as if he regretted doing all of this in the end. You weren't sure what had gotten into you at that moment, but you suddenly felt that if you don't accept his offer now, you might feel really bad later on. Like looking at a sad little puppy's beady eyes.

"Thinking of it now, it doesn't seem like a bad way to pass the afternoon. I'm in."

You puffed at the steam coming from your cup.

"Joseph really gets on your nerves, hm, ____?"

"A bit, yeah. Snooty old man."

"Ah, come on now, he isn't that bad. He's quite pleasant to talk, actually. A little intimidating, very peculiar, but pleasant. Most of the time."

"Wish it was like that when playing against him. I go through hell and back while dressing my wounds because of his damned rapier. How did it even get approved by the owner?

"He's a veteran, so I believe they decided to let it slip back then. Or maybe he just swayed DeRoss off of his feet with his Frenchman charm and the two lasers he has for eyes."

You almost choked on your tea. Orpheus had a suprisingly sharp tongue, unfitting with his unsuspecting face and downturned eyes. He took off his gloves - revealing rough yet nimble fingers - and scooped some pierogi onto his plate.

"Was this a pleasant enough suprise for you?"

"Well, for the first time someone has been nice to me in a while, it's quite delightful, I admit."

"You mean, you wouldn't consider Joseph being polite towards you as "being nice"?"

"Hm?"

"Oh, just wondering, since I overheard bits of your conversation today. He didn't really sound rude, did he?"

"I mean, he wasn't rude or anything, it's just...I don't know how to explain it. Yeah, people are nice to me, actually, quite a lot of them, but they rarely go beyond their words. They don't put them into action."

"I see. I believe it gets annoying with time."

"It does."

"Do you put what you say into action, too?"

"...What are you implying?"

"As in, when you like a person or care for them, do you also try to put into action your love for them?"

"Orpheus, I put everything into action. Every day. That's my job as a maid."

"Yes, I...know that very well, but do you put love in action, too?"

"I don't have time for love. Nor is there anyone to fully love here, I fear. Just tolerate and like, maybe. If they're really nice."

He sat up straight, his thumb trailing his bottom lip back and forth.

"See, I'm no expert, but I do feel that you're denying yourself of something you don't know you need most."

Leaving you puzzled, he got up and left the room.

"Orpheus, have you ever kissed somebody before?"

He suddenly jolted, staring back at you from the other edge of the sofa.

"What kind of question is that?" He tilted his head, pouring milk into his tea. One tea break ensued after another, and now it has become an unspoken rule to bring something to sip (or munch) on to the library hideout as the clock struck for afternoon.

"You know how they portray poets and novelists. Romantic, sensual, passionate. I just assumed you already have some experience with dating."

A faint pink flashed his cheeks. "Well, now, what is it that prompted you to ask me? And now, of all times?"

Sip by sip, sentence by sentence, and you got quite close to Orpheus in these few months. You couldn't help but think about his words here and there - to do something with love, not just because you have to. Or out of love. Whatever. The following day after he brought you tea for the first time, you felt the moral obligation to invite him for lunch. And so the cycle continued, an opportunity to chat appeared along with it, and in Orpheus you now saw a friend. Perhaps. There were bits of joy in the moments when you picked out the perfect flavor for the day or played with coffee cream, attempting to make some designs with it.

No, in fact, there was no real reason behind your question. It seemed fitting enough for the moment, and maybe, just maybe, you wanted to catch him off guard again.

"Felt like it."

He cleared his throat. "Well, if you're so curious about it.... not really. Fangirls were common but... I'm simply not very experienced. Some may see me as charismatic but once things get a little bit more serious I don't know what to do. Was that the answer you expected from me?"

It was a bit ironic. A bit cute, even. How his charisma only reached up to actual love, the real thing. The same thing he remarked you needed the most.

"Funny. The Orpheus, the detective novel author, afraid of love? Out of all things?"

It didn't take long for him to pout his lips, looking away in shame. "To be fair, there's quite a bit to be afraid of in love. There's commitment, passion, building trust, insecurity... It takes a lot to love."

"I see."

"May I ask you the same question?"

"Which one - if I've ever kissed someone? Never. Never had the opportunity. Never felt the need, in fact. It wasn't a necessity to have a partner, only a plus. It's not something to be terribly afraid of. I believe it just happens and, well, you go with the flow."

"Well, maybe you never feared it because you never reached its starting point."

"Oh, Orpheus, you're supposed to be a novelist, not a philosopher."

The library sofa is quite practical. If you pull the compartment at the bottom of it a little too hard, it can be stretched out, turning it into a large comfortable bed, although a bit rough on the skin.

You and Orpheus laid on the sofa-bed, directly facing the large window, listening to the sound of raindrops hitting the glass.

"It's really calming here. Lulls you right to sleep." He started, his monocle set aside. Now having a better look at his so-to-speak "monocled" eye, you noticed it's more downturned than the other.

"...Mhm." Already half asleep, you turned your head towards his face, soaked up his profile through lidded eyes.

"____ , is everything okay?"

"Everything is just fine. Juuust fine. I'm just a bit sleepy."

You looked at his hand, laying by his hip between you two, fingers twitching here and there nervously. He never took his gloves off in front of you except for when he was eating.

"You can go take a nap if you want. I'll wake you up once it's time to go."

Your hand mindlessly headed towards his and your fingers pinched at the satin gloves, trying to take them off his hands.

"No, I think i'm good."

He sighed sharply. That wasn't a sigh of annoyance, it was a sigh of pain, like trying to breathe deeply while your heart aches.

"God, no. Please, ____ , don't do this to me."

He was scared, and now you were too, but his hand remained still. Torn between pleasure and horror. His fingers cold and nimble, his hand rough and calloused again. For an unknown reason, you wanted to hold it, from the second your gaze switched to it.

"I'm not doing anything bad, am I?"

Your fingers finally fit between his, palm to palm. It was weird. Like holding a pleasantly cold cup and trailing across sandpaper at the same time. But it felt good. It felt safe, secure, like it could last forever.

"You know what you're doing."

You felt his fingers tighten around your hand, gripping it tightly.

"...Please keep on doing it."

Seven o'clock.

An envelope in your hands. Your name written on it in the prettiest cursive you've seen, like a treat, baiting you to open it.

But you held back.

You waited.

The door creaked behind you. Not turning back, you spoke softly:

"Orpheus."

"____"

Your name uttered between breaths.

The clack of his shoes, his weight switching from leg to leg, his breathing becoming louder. You could now feel it on your neck. The chilling warmth.

"Why didn't you open the letter?"

"You know why."

"You're cruel."

"But you came anyways."

He sighed. "... for love." It sounded heavy coming from his mouth.

"For love." You smiled, the word now as light as a butterfly. The knife tore through paper and you skimmed through the lines of words, a careful gaze watching you as you did so.

"...What do you think?"

"It's wonderful."

"I know what's on your mind."

You turned towards him now. Face to face. Mere inches separating your eyes. Eyes, wandering everywhere else except towards what laid in front of them.

You tried to lay your hands around his neck. You tried, really. But the look in his eyes already denied you before you even started.

His hands quickly reached for your lowering wrists.

"Give me a moment, I beg of you." He whispered, shaking.

His lips indecisevly hovered above your lips, then your neck, your nose, your cheek. You closed your eyes firmly, only opening them once you felt comforting warmth on your jaw. He pulled back, leaving a translucent string of saliva as he parted.

"I know it wasn't as magical as you expected it to be. I'm sorry, ____ ."

"We barely even started, Orpheus."

He tried to object, to bury himself again, but before the words could slip from his mouth, your lips shut him up. And so, in a mere moment, the unspoken words did not matter anymore.

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