#identity v fanfiction

[strawberryvera]

₊✩‧₊˚ IDV CHARACTERS REACTING TO THEIR S/O HAVING A NIGHTMARE!!—- ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

cw: none!!

Vera and edgar gender neutral x reader sfw!

a/n: maybe I’m self projecting with planning on making these all late night. It’s okay though chat because ima make sure this fire fr (i’m low-key sleep deprived writing this right now, but we ball). And also, sorry if this sounds weird, this is my first time writing full x readers that aren’t head cannons so sorry if I make them sound ooc or cringe at all😭😭🙏 NONETHELESS HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

VERA NAIR

The faint glow of the moonlight sank into the perfumers room onto her material filled desk, catching some of her hair in the process as she fine tuned her euphoria, making sure that the violet colored fragrance smelled and worked as it should, as she had a focused look on her face. As she worked on the tree roasted scent, she heard gentle knocks on her door. Who could even possibly be at her door this late at night? Everyone she could possibly think of in the moment was asleep, quietly taking on slumber in their own rooms. She lowered her perfume onto her desk gently, as she began to speak.

“I’m busy right now.”

The brunette perfumer gave a short response, as her words came off sharp and arrogant, with a bit of irritation, not knowing who was knocking. She was also focused, affecting how long her responce would be. Just then, the familiar voice of her beloved sinked through the closed door.

“…Im sorry…can I just come in for a little bit..?”

As she heard the familiar voice of (y/n), her face quickly turned soft, yet with a slight lingering sense of worry. Hearing the somber, feared voice of her dearest (y/n) made her worry, she knew something was wrong.

“Oh—yes dear..I’ll be there in a minute.”

She spoke, her voice still remaining sharp, yet still having the assimilation of worry and softness, as she quietly but swiftly walked to the door, creaking it open.

“Is everything okay? Here…come in dear..you can tell me what happened if that would make you feel better..”

Vera spoke sharp yet gentle, her tone sharp as rose thorns yet just as beautiful and soft as a bold, crimson colored, gentle petal of a rose, as she gently grabbed (y/n) by the hand, guiding them to the entrance of her room. She put a complete pause to her perfume work, as she sat on the edge of her bed, patting the open spot next to her, looking down at the spot then back up at (y/n), being patient with them.

(y/n) took a seat next to Vera, leaning on her shoulder, looking up at her with gentle, yet somber eyes of a puppy, as Vera spoke sharp yet gentle, as if pencil was sketching softly on paper, having a sense of delicacy yet concern.

“…Is everything okay..?”

Vera spoke gentle, waiting for a response from her dearest (y/n).

“…I…had a nightmare..I’m sorry, it looks like you were busy and I didn’t mean to bother you—“

Vera quickly cut them off.

“Hey—No it’s fine dear..and you didn’t bother me..I was just working on my perfume..”

Vera quickly spoke with concern, yet straight and sharp as always. She gently rose her head from looking at her beloved, to glance at her work. (Y/n) followed the same pattern, looking at the perfume and the material scattered desk.

“..Here…smells sometimes help me feel better..”

Vera spoke warm and pointed, as she walked over to her desk, grabbing her euphoria she had been working on prior, as she handed it to (y/n). (Y/n) sprayed the perfume, inhaling the calming and refreshing scent of a tree roasting in the sun helped ease their dancing mind.

“..thank you, Vera..”

(Y/n) spoke more calm and refreshed, with a tired smile. As Vera looked at her, tucking (y/n)’s hair behind their face, as (y/n) savored the smell of the nature-like scent for a bit longer.

“Anytime, my dear.”

Vera spoke softly, quickly planting a kiss on (y/n)’s cheek, as (y/n) leaned into the kiss, a small soft smile smile formed on their lips. A light shined in midnights darkness, as (y/n) felt more happy and tranquil once again, savoring this moment with the perfumer, as they sat in the comforting silence for a bit longer.

EDGAR VALDEN

The midnight scilence draped Edgar’s room like a curtain, as he quietly painted by himself, working on another masterpiece, the scilence being broken by a soft dialogue of whispers between the canvas and the bristled paint brush. As he focused on nothing but the canvas in front of him and the colors he was ever so effortlessly putting together, he heard the gentle knocks of someone at his door, disturbing his peace, while adding sound to the loud quiet of his room. Who could possibly be knocking at his door, let alone at this hour? He was never really one to be friendly with others, or get close to anyone, except for one person, but they should be asleep, right?

“Hm…Who is it?”

The painter spoke with a hint of bite in his tone, reeking with sharpness, yet blunt tone of voice, not talking his eyes off of his earthy colored painting, as he continued to make swift and fast strokes on his canvas.

“…It’s me…can I come in…?”

(Y/n) spoke soft, tired, yet particularly fragile in this moment, they clearly weren’t feeling good. Hearing who it was, his face softened a bit, as he turned to the door, and sighed.

“..The door is unlocked. You can come in.”

Small signs of worry seeped through his blunt and pointed voice, as he put his paintbrushes down on the pallet, putting a halt to his activities, while (y/n) did their slow yet somber walk in. He was worried for them, but had a hard time showing that.

“Is everything okay? Why are you even walking out this late at night, shouldn’t you be asleep?”

He spoke with sharp arrogance, yet a little bit of worry and affection dripped through his voice. The brunette painter frowned a bit, picking back up his paint brushes slowly, while remaining eye contact with (y/n), as his beloved closed the door behind them.

(Y/n) sat on the ground next to Edgar, as they had their head hanged low, eyes looking up in his direction. As they sat down next to him, he ever so slowly resumed his painting, awaiting a response.

“..I had a nightmare..I felt scared..I didn’t really want to be alone…sorry if I interrupted your painting..“

Edgar looked down at them once again. He always had a naturally cold resting face, but when he looked down at you, saw your saddened face, and listened to what you said, his face turned slightly more soft.

“..it’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I can paint while someone else is in the room..if it makes you feel better, you can stay in here for a little bit..”

He spoke to (y/n), his voice softened up a bit along with his face, as he looked down at the now more peaceful looking (y/n), as they gave a warm smile at him in response.

“..thank you.”

(Y/n) replied, as they got hug and wrapped their arms around him. He tensed up a bit at first, not being too used to physical touch, but ultimately ended up melting into their beloveds arms like melting snow under the spring suns hold, reciprocating the hug back.

“It..it’s really not a big deal..but your welcome anyways, (y/n)..”

He gently moved their hair out of their face, a smile slowly spreading like butter across his lips as he treated their delicate locks of hair as a masterpiece in their own right, tucking it behind their ear, his touch lingered for a fleeting moment, before letting go of them. As they sat down next to him, scilentky watching him paint away, watching each gentle stroke he did on his canvas to shape another fragment of his masterpiece.

[akuma-tenshi]

TW for violence / light gore. it's much more explicit in flight response, but it's present in both.

finally done!! this was probably some of the most fun i've had writing fanfiction in a long time. this was a fun little concept that @cemetery-irises and i dreamt up that actually wound up turning into something of an inside joke / bigger storyline, and i'm so proud of how it turned out. these are partner fics that are separate perspectives of the same events; fight response depicts andrew's pov, while flight response depicts sterling's.

hope everyone enjoys!! like i said, these were a lot of fun to write, so i'm hoping they're fun to read too. and yes, these fics are what this post is referencing

[beesquee]

The snow felt scorching against her skin.

Violetta did not know how long she'd been lying helplessly in the middle of the woods just beyond the courtyard. She did know, however, that the tear tracks from crying earlier had frozen completely against her cheeks. "Crying does not help you any," Maxwell used to tell her whenever she was frustrated with herself. The lecture had quelled her leaking eyes-- and made her a better performer-- but she only grew more frustrated with herself whenever Maxwell said such things.

Despite her bitterness about having been sold off, Violetta believed, at this moment, that Maxwell had been right. Her wet eyes had not saved her from Joker's paranoia-induced wrath, and they could not save her now, stranded without her mechanical limbs to carry herself out.

read the rest here !!

[fishermanshook]

ASK: pretty pretty please… fools gold.. smut if you can.. I CANT KEE EDGING TO HIM WHENEVER I MATCH AGAINST HIM 😞💻 I GOTTA TAKE HIS CRYSTAL ROCK COCK

ROCK HARD!

( fools gold sex h/c’s ) + gn!reader

# MINOR WRITING SMUT , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

I suppose it is your fault, you shouldn’t have underestimated your boyfriend's ability to fuck you raw in his bedroom, not caring who hears either of you or if his Survivor counterpart walks in as you do it on his bed. 

His opposite shouldn't be back for a while though, as he's stuck in a match against that Ivy chick. Guess you'll just have to stick it out for a while, huh? Don't worry, he'll make it worth the wait. 

꒰wc꒱ 535

🪨⛏ | Fools Gold who is undoubtedly rough with you in the bedroom. Leaving marks in their wake decorated across your soft and delicate flesh unlike his own. Bruises from your last session have only just started to fade away to make room for more to come.              (He doesn't mean to hurt you, it's just that you're so much tinier than he is and he can't help but toy with you a bit.)

↳ on top of this, jealousy runs through the Hunter's veins. The cuts and bruises and hickeys and whatever else he does to mark you up is an indication of who and what you belong to. He can’t stand watching you interact with the other Survivors and, hell, that pesky Prospector who takes up far too much of your time. Time that could be better spent splitting you in half. 

🪨⛏ | Fools Gold is such a tease too. He'll mess around with your tiny little body and force you to leave for your match all hot and bothered. It's all part of the plan though because it means you'll just come crawling back to him for relief, not realizing what you're getting yourself into. 

🪨⛏ | Fools Gold who loves to get messy in bed and uses his hands and fingers to make you cum 1, 2, 3 too many times, leaving your body overstimulated and all too sensitive to his rough touch. It doesn't matter how many times you beg or whine or claw at the rocks on his back, he doesn't stop. 

🪨⛏ | Fools Gold who is always the one on top. It doesn't matter if you start it or end it, you'll always manage to find him towering over you with that same devilish smirk that adorns his face. 

🪨⛏ | Fools Gold who has the stamina of a 10-time gold place Olympian runner. He can go all night and then morning and then night again if called for. But know that once he starts, he won’t stop. The little sympathy he has goes toward calling it a night after round 5 or after you've passed out in his arms. He gets it, it's hard having a boyfriend who could last longer than he could. (Norton.)

The sound of keys unlocking the door pulls you from your aroused state as both you and Fools Gold turn your head toward the door. 

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." Norton sighs while turning his head up towards the roof. 

"Speak of the devil, could you leave? We're kind of in the middle of something." Fools Gold says, still halfway inside you as you cover your body in embarrassment. 

"That’s it, both of you, OUT!" 

note: I picked this up b/c I thought it'd be interesting especially because I've never written for him before,,,also annon im going to haunt your dreams now b/c you didn’t read rules (I’m calling you rocky annon now if you ever decide to send in something else)

also you guys help I have 37 (36 after this post) drafts

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

[decaffeinatedwriter101]

Basement fun

“Quiet sweetheart, we don't want anyone to hear us now, do we?” Norton whispered in a cocky tone as he continued to pound himself into you, the sound of skin against skin and the desperate moaning and whimpering coming from the basement echoed against the walls.

“N-no, I don't!.” you say through moans, digging your nails into his shoulders as tears begin to form and blur your vision from the over-stimulation, you're trying your hardest to stay somewhat quiet so none of your teammates try to come and assist you in your ‘kite’, the thought of someone coming down to the basement and finding you getting fucked by the hunter sent shivers down your spine, the feeling of humiliation and anxiety sinking into your nerves even though you knew that wasn't going to happen.

“Or do you want your friends to find you down here? getting fucked stupid, all because you're desperate for a win?” Norton asks you with a shit-eating grin on his lips while his hands begin to move away from your hips and begin to grope and squeeze at your ass, the feeling of him hitting that sweet spot over and over again had you struggling to answer him with a coherent sentence without moaning.

“FUUuuucK, no, i- Ah don't want them to” you finally mustered out as you threw your head back from him rubbing that little bundle of nerves in a fast circle-like motion, the feeling of him thrusting himself in and out so rough and fast made it feel like your brain was going to melt your whole body felt like it was on fire, Norton moved both of his hands down to your thighs ultimately putting you into a mating press, he grabbed you by the cheeks and made you look him in the eye. 

“What the matter huh? Are you scared that someone will come here and see us like this?” He groaned out as he got closer to your face pressing his lips up against yours for a kiss, one of his hands moved up to the back of your head to gently tug at your hair, you were getting close, and the familiar feeling of that coil slowly getting ready to pop.

“Norton, please, do- on't stop” you beg through messy kisses as he pounds himself into you even rougher and harder than before, he pulls his face away from yours and cups your face, moving strands of hair out of your eyes a soft yet still somewhat cocky smile on his face.

“You gettin' close huh?” he huffs out as he keeps pounding into you, his thrusts beginning to falter as he is close to his peak, you two holding eye contact the whole time, the feeling of his tip vigorously pounding into your sweet spot got you seeing stars, tears streaming down your face as your legs begin to shake, nortons thrust stammer a bit as he feels you tightening around him his breath hitches in his throat as he quickens his pace tightening his grip on your hair,

  “Ooh god I'm close y/n, I know you are too I can feel you tightening around me,” he says through huffs and groans, his thrusting Increasing in speed.

“Norton I'm so close,” you say through moans, The coil in your stomach tightens with every thrust, getting closer to popping, As you struggle to keep your eyes open, your eyelids flutter, trying to maintain eye contact with the hunter on top of you rearranging your guts, When the coil snaps, it sends your head flying back, causing your eyes to flutter with surprise and intensity, the feeling of warmth envelops the insides of your thighs, Norton leaned back with a contented sigh, surveying the mess he had created with a sense of pride.

“Well look at that, such a mess y/n,” With a confident smirk, he helped you up as the final cipher unlocked. The blaring alarm echoed across the map. As you made your way towards the open exit gate, you glanced back and saw Notion standing there, looking as cocky as ever. At least in the end, you secured your four-man win, and he got his favor.

A/N: hey guys this is my first fanfic, as you can probably tell, also this is a really and I mean really old fools gold fanfic I wrote back when he was released but never finished it until now, I hope you enjoy, I will of course practice on my writing more in the meantime,

Decaff out!

[inferencesarchives]

`•- Jealous Norton Headcanons

norton campbell (survivor) x gn reader

prompt: jealousy

warnings: jealousy (yeah no shit), physical touch

a/n: i have a hard time writing jealous characters but im gonna try my best today raaah hopefully i do alright also this is valentines event day 4 wahoo alright cool let's get on with it already

ever since the two of you got in a relationship with each other, norton couldn't help but feel protective over you.

he doesn't mean it in a bad way, of course! it's just that he's used to having things he cares about being snatched away, and he doesn't want to lose you as well. he cares about you more than anything else in the world, after all.

don't worry, though, he's not protective to the point where he's constantly hovering around you, obviously. he understands that you want to hang out with your friends sometimes, and he trusts that your friends wouldn't do anything malicious towards you. he doesn't let it get to him.

what does get to him, though, is whenever someone seems to start getting a bit too comfortable whenever you two hang out. you brush it off at first, obviously, since pretty much everyone at the manor knew about your relationship with norton. surely, they doesn't mean for their actions to come off like that, do they?

but norton isn't convinced. something about the whole situation just feels... off to him. he tries not to ovethink it, but he just can't help himself. something about it just seemed to make him feel strange and sour inside. he knows that they likely doesn't mean any harm, but...

he's left feeling bitter and uneasy as he keeps thinking about it. he doesn't quite seem to realize the way he subconsciously starts appearing by your side more and more, keeping a watchful eye on anyone else around. it's just his protective instincts. he doesn't mean to suddenly start sticking to your presence, it just... happens.

norton doesn't really seem to realize that he's jealous. he just wants to keep you safe and remind anyone else who dares to make a move that your his, and you don't plan on leaving him anytime soon.

if the situation calls for it, he pulls you closer to him almost subconsciously. he wraps an arm around your waist and holds you tightly next to him, shooting a nasty glare at whoever was getting a bit too close for comfort. he'll even go so far as to grunt at them, angrily telling them to back off, though he does his best to keep his emotions under control.

if you try to tease him about this later that night, he just grumbles and denies everything you say with the tiniest tint of blush on his cheeks. him? jealous? no, he'd never get jealous... where'd you get that idea from?

a/n: me when i. nortbn cmpball

thanks for reading, and remember to take care of yourself!

[overmore]

Identity V - top 100 ships based on ao3 stats

I made this spreadsheet that has all 100 ships ranked by how many fics they have on the archive. fics unable to be viewed in collections are not counted. This was all done manually, so there might be some mistakes, especially when you go to lower numbers. This was done for the fun of it and I will keep it updated every once in a while (probably once a month or every two months depending on how many new fics there are)

All the counting was done in the evening between of 4th and 5th of August, so anything posted after that was not counted.

If you want to. you can have a nice conversation in the replies or by reblogging, I'd like to hear thoughts of other people and how happy they are their ships are here hahah. as long as y'all are not being mean to people over which ships have more fics everything is fair game.

Link to the spreadsheet

for the sillies: top 10 ships will be tagged in this post. enjoy!

[heartshapedbubble]

Could I perhaps have something like those 2 long and well written Joseph and Luchino fic but with Soul Catcher? Thank you🙏

anon i am SO SORRY this took so long you might as well have my first born

also english isn't my first language so please have mercy on me i know i reuse the same words over and over 😔 reqs like these sadly clog my inbox even tho i like writing them so i'm gonna do something about them after i empty it!!

my very own prince charming, a soul catcher fanfic🧲☠️

cw for vomit mention in case you have emetophobia, reader's gender not specified although soul catcher uses a few spanish pet names (nouns) that are gendered because haha language rules, not proofread, warning for intense corniness, this is very bad i apologize, ALSO VERY LONG

-------------------------------------------------------

~

There are amazing forces of Attraction and Repulsion between souls; just like when fate guides some people together and causes others to part.

~

After a period of indecisive skimming through the bookshelf, you picked out a thick, hardcover book.

You'd consider yourself quite picky regarding books - just a flashy cover and a taunting description wouldn't do it for you. A beautiful, elegant maiden and a handsome, charming prince were just one-dimensional props in the story, and you found all of those "new " and "wonderful " fantasy worlds described and mapped out on the front page generic and bland. You always seeked out something new, something that would leave you thirsting and longing for each damned word pressed onto the yellowing paper, make your fingers trail over dozens of pages in mere minutes. Yet, considering your little town in the south was limited to just one small, dusty library, finding such books would be considered an extreme sport.

So for now, you had to be satisfied with the usual, popular literature that the townsfolk read.

But today was special - you weren't in the mood for something new, or something outstanding, in fact you'd even say you wanted to read something normal. Something you could nonchalantly mention to your friends during afternoon coffee, with a plot so malleable and simple it would be woven around your conversation like it was nothing. The misadventures of a rookie knight, or the sorrows of a young, noble lady, all interpreted differently and abstractly and able to be swiftly analyzed and twisted over a cup of overly sweet coffee. Although the pile of smooth, newly released paperbacks at the entrance intrigued you, a minute later you found yourself squished between two dusty, polished wooden shelves, inspecting the book you just picked out.

Well, you didn't know you'd stoop that low, but what caught your eye right now was a book of fairy tales and fables. It was an old release, presumably donated to the library considering the oil stains on the brown paper that wrapped itself around the thick leather cover. Although worn out by time and basically crumbling from the outside, on the inside the lettering was flawless and written in an old, thick cursive, and simply bringing your face closer to the text would bless you with the scent of old, yet well kept books - the fresh smell of walnuts and baldachin beds and white cotton dresses, and even lilac bushes in the spring. Although all of these associations were of a life unknown to you, for some reason they made you feel at home.

There was another reason for you picking out this particular book - a reason you'd rather carry with you to your grave out of pride, unable to bend your head down and admit it. When life got unbearable and overbearing and the only way you felt safe and well was under heavy linen bedsheets or in the shade of the old pear tree, you'd curl up and indulge in the exact same books you usually despise. A humbling experience, indeed, but at times where safety and love were most neccessary fantasies were the quickest, most low-key way of getting what you needed the most at the moment. Projecting your being onto the flat sheet of a protagonist, you'd visualise yourself instead of them, you being the one kissing the hero's fading scars or having your hair braided by the thin, nimble fingers of the king's son. The amount of scenarios was neverending, and, well, if you couldn't get your fix with all these readily available options, you felt like you're doomed.

The book was now set inside your trusty linen bag while you were walking home. Oddly, the usually loud and populated city market was silent and not a soul could be seen out on the street, not even a head popping out of the window or a hand reaching for the hanged clothes that hung on the ropes high above the rocky path. While you were crossing the town bridge, you decided to stop to take a deep breath and enjoy for a bit, now that you weren't being pushed onward by the citizens and the merchants that usually piled behind you.

It does take a while to learn savor things, doesn't it? It takes until adolescence until the dark chocolate on your tongue unveils its rich, deep and bitter flavor, until you learn how special that first sip of morning coffee is and how good of a feeling it is to simply have another hand wrapped around yours. Same goes for nature, you thought to yourself as you looked over the bridge, watching the river speed under the arch and the plants inside of it wave around like silk scarfs. Without the noise pollution, you were finally able to hear the satisfying noises of the water sloshing over the rocks, droplets hitting each other every second. Without a second thought, you laid beside the edge of the bridge, your bag lazily hanging off of your wrist, and let yourself get lulled to sleep by the melody of the current.

That is, until the straps of the bag slipped off of your wrist.

Fuck.

You immediately jumped to your feet in panic, looking around for your bag. Yet, it was too late. It was nowhere to be found - it was probably already driven away by the river, taken to god-knows-where.

Well, it's not like you weren't aware of the risk. But your heart still ached - that was not your book, after all. And what a beautiful, old edition it was as well! There was no way you'd be able to properly apologize to the librarian, unless....

"Oye, muñeca, ta libre."

You jumped at the sudden voice whispering at your ear. You were sure no one was around here except you... or maybe..?

Slowly turning around, your face was met with another, yet wider, lathered with paint and shaded by the hat above's enormous brim. As the face moved away from yours and the person straightened their back, you found yourself gazing up and down at - what seemed to be, at least - a tall, youngish man, couldn't be above 28. Dressed in gaudy purple, green and black, adorned with flowers and gilded accessories, he looked like a living puppet, his chest and shoulders wide and his waist slim, proportions of a wooden harlequin they sold during the holiday season in the toy shop. Hanging off of his wrist was your beloved linen bag, the forsaken book inside still in tact, not a single droplet of water blemishing the paper.

"Who...? How did you...?" You muttered nonsense, as your arms needily reached for the bag that he gently waved around. Props to the visuals, but you had your priorities.

"It's all reflexes, sugar. Was taking a nap underneath the bridge, you know, all that wandering around numbs out your legs, and your little sack here just happened to fall close enough to my hand for me to grab it in time. Be a little more careful next time, will you, doll?" The man-puppet replied nonchalantly as he tossed the bag into your arms.

"Thank you, I- wait, what?" You quickly snapped out of your daze. "Napping? Under the bridge? "

"Don't judge it before you try it", he whistled, crossing his arms behind his head, "The cobblestone ain't the comfiest, but it does wonders for your back."

You sneered at his carefree expression, as if lying under a bridge was the most normal thing to do. Who exactly was this fellow, and who did he think he was?

"And you expect to believe me all that?"

"Hm?" He jolted a bit, not expecting a question, maybe a compliment, but definetly not a skeptical remark.

"Napping under a bridge? Seriously? You catching my bag is impressive, yes, but there's no way it was that much of a skillful feat. You probably dozed by the river's shore and suddenly found a bag by your side like any other guy at this hour. Who are you even, some wannabe-show-off-superhero?"

To your suprise, he just smirked back at you, lowering his torso until his face was just inches away from yours. So close, you could feel his warm breath on your cheeks, and his raspy voice rumbled inside your ears.

"How about you take a wild guess."

Stumped by his question, you took a few steps back. Your eyes now digesting his form in his entirety, you rubbed your chin as you gazed up and down at the man, posing, obviously very into the careful stare you were dissecting him with.

"Enjoying the view, hm, azúcar? "

"Give me a break! I'm trying to focus." You mumbled, panicking a bit, sensing that your cheeks started to flame up. To be honest - even under all that fabric and thick paint, he was quite a looker. The black paint defined his jawline in all the right places, and man, that silly outfit of his was tailored pretty damn well, gripping his legs and his biceps enough to define them nicely.

Although visually he was as fancy as a rich man's birthday cake, nothing seemed to pop out from his outfit, as if every embroidered piece of textile and every golden stud was carefully planned out. However, upon better inspection, one of them seemed to take the cake - it was the small shiny skull on top of his hat, shaped like a squished pear, a few nails stabbed into it like birthday candles. The cherry on top of it all - metaphorically and literally.

"The skull on your hat... looks like a well-made prop to me. You're some kind of entertainer, huh?"

A playful smile appeared on the lad's lips, yet it wasn't a confirming one. "You're getting closer, but no, not exactly."

"Street musician?"

"I can be one if you desire, but it's not exactly my main job."

"Actor?"

"Only behind the scenes, dear. But I can see by the look in your eye that you're going to head in the right direction." This little guessing game seemed to amuse him to no end.

"With all that flashy wear, it seems fair to assume you might even be some kind of high-end magician, performing for nobles or aristocrats. Or some wannabe wizard."

He bit his lip, the smile widening with each guess. He seemed more excited about this than you were.

A flower painted around his left eye. A belt fastened around his waist, with a big golden buckle. Sheer black gloves covering his hands in their entirety, bones painted in gold on his knuckles and fingers.

A glowing ring - no, a disk - hanging from the side of his belt, rocking with the movement of his hips.

Wait. It couldn't be. The disk looked too...

"Hold on a second. You couldn't be..."

"Sí, muñeca? "

"Are you..."

Before you could even finish your sentence he grinned from ear to ear and inched even closer to you, his nose now touching yours, as if he just managed to read your mind.

"Bingo."

~

The legend of the Soul Catcher was told times and times again, twisted and folded like fresh taffy to suit every possible scenario in one's life. To children, it was told to scare them into going to bed in time. To teenagers, it was told to ward them off from the forest at the edge of the town. To young adults, it was told to motivate them into becoming independent and to work hard. To newlyweds, it became a prayer, to protect the newly formed family and to bring safety to their home. He was not the Reaper, but if a soul was left astray, detached from the body it resided in, everyone knew well that once the Soul Catcher gets his hands on it, that it won't be back ever again. He was both a devil and a saint, a villain and a vigilante - but one thing was sure, he was well respected. No one knew if it was out of fear or out of genuine admiration. And what was even weirder - not a single person was sure if he ever actually existed.

Not a single adult, at least.

The legend was not a new one, in fact, it has been told for a little less than a century. If you were to have a little extra patience and attention, you could hear the town's elders occassionally mumble about seeing him as a child in the forest, or him visiting them in a dream. But their interpretations varied from tale to tale - he went from a spirit, to a ghoul, to simply an omen, either good or bad. Since the townspeople couldn't agree on a single, concrete definition, the Soul Catcher remained a concept, embodied by what seemed to be multiple entities.

However, if you were to ask a child about the Soul Catcher, you'd get a much more vivid and universal description than anything an adult could tell you. All of them were along the lines of "magical jester", and what was weirder, almost all of the children confessed that the Soul Catcher played with them. And no, it wasn't just a single sighting, he played with multiple kids at once, even going as far to balancing three of them on his shoulders and telling them stories. During the hot, damp afternoon hours of the summer, huge groups of children snuck out of their homes just to play with him. When their mothers soaked their cramped hands and their fathers took their first break after the morning shift, their beloved kids were out on the dusty streets, carefully following every word seeping off of the Soul Catcher's silver tongue.

The only thing that bound the varying opinions and theories of both the young and the old was the trusty disk that always hung by his hip, rumored to be the tool he used to attract and harvest souls. And this same legendary disk was now hanging off of the belt of the man in front of you, green and purple mist enveloping it.

The myth himself, in the flesh, in front of you.

"You were quicker than I thought you'd be. Bravo, dollface." He smiled and patted your head. "If we ignore your initial hostility, you seem quite confident in the fact that i'm the real deal. Mind telling me why?"

"Well, you don't see someone parading around with THE exact disk that the Soul Catcher uses. Everyone agrees on the main description of its appearance, but to be completely fair, no one around here is skilled enough to make a replica that's convincing enough."

"I see. It's nice to see somebody with both the wits and the pretty face." He chuckled. Who would have known that he's such a flirt? Nontheless, to your shame your face lit up at his silly compliment. There was just something about him that made you weak in the knees.

"Alright. I believe I should prove you I'm the real thing now." He unhooked the disk from his belt, spun it around in his hand, and hopped a few steps away from you. He pointed the disk at your chest, positioning himself as if he's getting ready to react to a suprise attack. You didn't know what he was trying to do, but you felt as if you shouldn't make a sound or even object to it.

A tension-filled silence wrapped around you two for 20 seconds. After 10 more which seemed more like 10 minutes, you felt your body move. Move, although your legs were planted at the same spot they were before. Your head ached and pulsed, you felt dizzy as if your intestines were tying themselves into knots. To be sick without actual pain, to move without any movement, what was he doing to you? If this keeps up, you might just end up vomiting out your stomach along with its contents. It was like being carsick, except the sickness rumbled not only through your abdomen, but through each one of your limbs as well.

"Here, I stopped. It's all over. Sorry for this."

The headache seemed to halt, and your body was back to normal, yet your hands and legs still felt a bit sore. He was now above you, his hand stretched out to your sides in case you lost your balance.

"...What did you just do to me?" You yawned, trying to stand up straight again.

"What you just experienced was your soul being harvested from your, already inhabited, body. I usually refrain from doing this, but I felt like I should let anyone that witnesses me up close go through this. Y'know, I want to be honest with people. That although they've seen me in the flesh and talked to me, they're fully aware of what I can do so they can prevent themselves from getting harmed."

"Does this imply you sucked someone's soul out from their living body?"

"Maybe", he shamefully turned his head away, "but it was never on purpose. Usually it was them reaching for the disk, or trying to see it up close. It pains me, since in most cases it's nearly impossible to return the original soul to its old body."

An awkward silence ensued.

"Sorry for ruining the mood, I felt like I needed to warn you first."

"Oh no, seriously, it's alri-"

"May I walk you to your house, jewel?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me the first time." He extended his hand, waiting for your next move.

~

What a peculiar man, indeed. First he tries to suck out the life out of you to give you a heads-up, and then he offers to walk you home like a gentleman.

And you'd be lying if that offer didn't sound thrilling. So now, your hand was intertwined with his, you trying to slow down as much as possible to make the moment last.

"I realized I had forgot to ask for your name. My apologies. Not very gentlemanly of me, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't mind it. It's ____."

"___..." He looked up at the sky, rubbing his chin, as if he was trying to remember something, your name echoing on his lips multiple times.

"Pretty name, but it doesn't ring a bell. You're not among the horde of youth that I visit, are you?"

"Nope. I'd say i'm more of a loner most of the time. I like socializing and all, but nothing's like a good book that you can read in one sitting."

"I figured. No way in hell I'd forget such a cute face like yours, even if I saw it for a split second." He smiled and pinched your nose. If his plan was to drive you insane, he was incredibly effective.

"How come people have such different reports about you? Can you shapeshift?" Trying to lead a conversation with him felt like navigating through a mine field - there were no known limits, no known good or bad questions, or any shared topics you two could talk about. But you'd lie if you said it didn't excite you - waiting for his response, never being able to predict the next word that will come out of his mouth.

He sighed. "If you wore the same pair of pants every day, wouldn't you get tired of it?"

"I suppose..?"

"Well, yeah. It's that. Mix it with hallucinations the brain dials up once it's met with something outside the world it knows, and here's your answer. I'm no sprite or shapeshifter, just a regular guy who made a regrettable deal years ago. I might have the powers of the dead on my side, but at what cost?"

You shrugged. As much as you wanted to quiz him and get him to talk about himself, right now biting your tongue and playing it cool seemed like the best idea. Getting deeply invested in his life might not lead to good places.

"So... you're one of those so-called bookworms, hm? You've been carrying a book inside that bag of yours the entire time, too." You could feel his hand slip from yours, trailing across your arm to your shoulder, then to the other, gripping it softly. His touch felt warm on your skin, very human and real despite what he did for a living.

"...Yeah. In fact, I was just on my way from the library back at the bridge where I met you. I just borrowed it." You smiled shyly, holding the bag tightly in your arms. Knowing his curiosity and boldness, a feeling of panic unfolded in your chest, dreading what he might say next.

"Mind me taking a peek at what you're reading?"

Aaand this was it. The moment you prayed will not happen, but his chin was already resting on your shoulder, trying to get a peek at the contents of the bag.

"H-hey, hey! Back off! That book's my business, after all!" You giggled, holding it tighter and tighter, trying to laugh off your growing anxiety. If there's one person that you wouldn't like knowing about your little self-indulgent hobby, then it was Soul Catcher. But your tightest grip was easily undone by his loosest, and now your book was in his left hand, clumsily open, and the digits of his right were buried in the strands of your hair, holding your head away with careful but great strength. Even with your annoyed and panicked groans and your hands clawing at him, he simply couldn't miss the opportunity to steal a look at a few titles.

"Calm down there, you're acting as if it was a pipe bomb that you were carrying!" He chuckled, trying to stay composed as his body lost balance under your pushes and pulls. Yet your delight was short-lived, as only a second was needed for him to spread the pages open with his thumb and smugly read some of the titles out loud.

"Cinderella, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty... seems like someone's a sucker for Prince Charming, hm?" He snickered, but gave in to your pleas and dropped the book right into your sack.

"Would it hurt your pride to not dig through others' stuff?" You hissed, patting the bag in relief. "A-and is there something so wrong with indulging in childhood comfort anyway?"

"Oh, not only would it hurt it, it would kill it. Besides, something tells me that this little guilty pleasure of yours goes beyond just childhood comfort", he whistled in his usual self-satisfied tone, yanking at his suspenders, "But hey, who am I to say?"

"Oh, does it?" You gave him a taste of his own medicine, grimacing right at his face, making sure each word rumbled through his skull. "Well, what if I told you that such absurd assumptions are indeed incredibly untasteful, especially when left unelaborated? Just imagine how much of a hit that could be to your fragile ego..."

"¡Dios mío! You couldn't possibly...!" He dramatically threw his head back. At least something was true - he really was an actor behind the scenes. "Oh lord, it truly seems like the only way to make it up for you, your majesty, is to explain myself beneath your ice-cold gaze, like an accused pauper chained and laid before the king!"

Both of you laughed away at your ridiculous actions.

He cleared his throat, after a good minute of dying from laughter. "O-okay, where were we? Ah, yes, your dirty little secret." With his hands crossed behind his back and his gaze innocently directed at the sky, it seemed like this was a touchy subject for him, too. "Well, from all my previous experiences with people, I noticed that a lot of them like to fantasize about, well, a world where everything is just better - usually some kind of unrealistic fairytale utopia. It helps them feel better about their problems, especially during adolescence." His eyes briefly shifted to yours, watching them as if he's waiting for you to point out a fuck-up nested in his wording.

"Alright, continue...?"

"And, uhm, although fairy tales are meant for kids and all and are read by them, these same adolescents use them as a vessel for said utopias, or simply, a medium."

His lips were pressed into a firm line, waiting for your feedback.

"Bravo, jester", you treated him with a teasing smile, ruffling the stray locks of hair peeking out from his hat, "You got yourself out this time."

"Well then, call me Houdini." He smiled back, scratching the back of his neck. "Jeez, even though that fantasy thing should have gotten into my skull for the most part, I still can't fathom what's so special about the Prince Charming trope.. It's so annoying! Are y'all really drooling over the same guy in different fonts?"

"To be fair, it leaves a lot to the imagination. You can interpret him however you like, twist his personality to your liking."

"But that's exactly why it's horribly overused! Dressing every fictional man in a suit of already desired personalities is... boring! No variety, no depth - nothing! Do they really not find real people with actual lives, emotions, thoughts and opinions more appealing?"

It was a bit funny, him getting worked up over this, as if he was deeply insecure about it. You decided to fuel the fire a bit.

"Well, what does your average Prince Charming have that, let's say, I lack?"

"A great personality?"

"Oh, come on. Now you're just being mean." He sighed, traces of laughter in his sigh. "Damn you, muñeca." You chuckled.

"Big muscles?"

"These babies don't look defined to you?" He pouted jokingly, flexing his arm. Shit. Your face warmed up for a bit. For a second, a satisfied grin appeared on his face, liking the reaction he coaxed out of you through your composed armour.

"Strength and brave- AH!" You didn't even get to finish your sentence, and a moment barely passed, but his left arm was already wrapped around your calves, his right under your arm and around your back, his body leaned into yours and suddenly - you were hanging off his shoulder stomach-down, like a potato sack. "Oh my god yo- put me down!"

He whistled, holding you down to supress your squirming. "Strong enough for you, doll?"

"Not fair..." You groaned, lifelessly plopping onto him.

"You didn't answer my question~"

"Yes. Strong enough." It was quite enjoyable up on his shoulder, actually. After the initial panic passed it became nice, the rhythmic bouncing of his walk lulling you to sleep. You could get used to this.

"Now that's music to my ears." He showed no sign of letting go any time soon, perhaps he liked the smell of your perfume on your neck, and your weight resting on top of him, like a thick winter blanket.

"Since you've already decided to pick me up, would you be kind enough to carry me to my house?" You mumbled, your eyelids already feeling heavy. "That house, over there." Pointing at the tall, cobblestone house, you yawned.

"Entiendo, sirenita."

~

"How did you- actually, you know what? Nothing can suprise me anymore. You climbed up my balcony, didn't you?"

The sun was setting, and Soul Catcher was leaning against the railing of your balcony, your bag thrown around his frame.

"Actually I slid off the roof, but you're not that far off, beautiful." Every time your name was replaced - or you were simply called by - a soft pet name coming from his mouth, you felt as if your stomach would explode. Something about the way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, whispering endearments to you like you're the only person remaining in the world along with him. And whenever he read and peered through your façade as your face turned red and your breathing got deeper, he took a step further, engaging in the sensual, mental tango forming around you two. "I forgot to return your bag. Sorry."

"It's alright. I appreciate that you went out of your way for me." Gosh, the way you tortured him! Whenever he was smooth and flirtly and you punched him in the face with your kind, unfiltered smile instead of flirting back, it was like his heart was momentarily shattered into pieces and then bound again. The irresistable two-step of games and suave words was driving him insane and momentarily, in his mind it was your face, and your body, and your voice that called for him and your coldness clashing with his warmth, and it was making him dizzy. Behind his eyes, his brain was melting, and his heart was no different. To fall so quickly for a stranger - well, it's no secret that he's been depraved of actual love and affection beyond one night stands and empty promises to dozens of lovers from different times - was nothing new to him, but this attachment was not the same, it was permanent, stable, and wasn't going away any time soon.

"So, ___..." You turned quickly. When it was just your name and not something snarky on his lips, it seemed more important. "...You got any plans for the evening?"

"Oh- not really. Do you, though?"

"Not a plan, but rather an idea, a proposition, even." His voice was breathier as if he was nervous, coughing up the words from his chest. "If you want to, we could, y'know, watch the sunset together. I'm quite fond of sunsets myself, so I was wondering..."

"So you're proposing a date?" A date. As if he flinched when he heard the word.

"Well, yeah, a date, if you want to call it that." He said as he bit his lip. "Are you up?"

"Why not?" You whispered, creeping slowly towards him. "That sounds like a nice way to spend the evening."

"I'm glad." he smiled. In that little moment all of his confidence returned, and now his voice was clear again and he was back on his feet, jumping on top of the railing like the most skilled of acrobats and making his way to the roof. "You're coming, no?"

"And how exactly do you want me to come?"

"Grab my hand. Come on." His hand hanged from above, pushed as far as possible to reach you. "I'll pull you up."

You gulped. Heights remained a minor fear of yours ever since childhood, and having to face said fear head-first out of nowhere wasn't very appealing. "But what if I fall?"

"Believe me, muñeca, you won't."

"How can you be so sure!?"

He took a deep breath, trying to speak as gently as possible to calm you down.

"Trust me, ___. It's my hand around yours, no one elses, and my strength that's going to pull you up. I'm here for you. Please."

You didn't know when, you didn't know how, but the height suddenly stopped being a problem and, in a flashing moment, you were in his arms, being pulled to the middle of the roof.

~

"The clouds are such a beautiful color today. Light pink, as if they're crowning the sun before the moon rises."

Your back facing him, his chin on your shoulder, his breath on the nape of your neck.

"It's even more beautiful right before it goes down. They turn blood red, melting with the sky."

His arms wrapped around you, your hand around his wrist, your legs thrown over his.

"Do you have to go soon?" You whispered with a heavy heart.

"I should go." He suddenly stopped. "But I don't want to."

"Please. Stay for another moment."

He pulled you closer and closer to him, now his mouth right by your ear.

"Of course. A moment."

And it was more than a moment.

And more than an hour.

And only the crescent moon was the witness, and what it saw was sealed for eternity once the sun rose on the horizon again.

[lumierexfics]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Postal Service !

Postal service rules : Don’t request any NSFW for TMC/The Mandela catalogue. Don’t request any kinks that involve bodily fluids. Don’t request any minor characters aged up for NSFW requests.

[Requests/Letters delivered : 8 out of 14]

You are beginning to make a letter for that special person, where do they live?

Detective Comics / Arkhamverse

Squid Game

Dead by Daylight

Elden Ring

The Mandela Catalogue

Ghost ( Band )

Identity V

The Magnus Archives

The Outlast Series

How long is your letter?

Couple pages, Oneshot

A page, Headcanons + Short fanfic

What envelope did you choose for the letter?

Blue Envelope, Angst

Red Envelope, NSFW

Lavender Envelope, Platonic

Pink Envelope, Fluff

What stamp did you put on the envelope?

Heart themed stamp, No AU

City themed stamp, Ex-Husband/Wife/Spouse AU

Food themed stamp, Slasher AU

Animal themed stamp, Monster AU

Bird themed stamp, Apocalypse AU

Semi-postal stamp, Hospital AU

NetStamp, Detective / Killer AU

Forever stamp, Yandere AU

Flower themed stamp, Cult AU

Ocean themed stamp, Siren AU

Horseshoe themed stamp, Wild West AU

What else did you put in the letter? (Optional)

Dried flowers : Early morning prompts

Paper hearts : Fluff scenarios

Paper flowers : Platonic sentence starters

Pink wax seal : Found family prompts

Scented letter : Levels of intimacy

One ring : Smut Prompts

Kiss stains : Inexperienced smut prompts

Photographs : Smut sentence starters

Deep blue wax seal : 20 prompts for friends with benefits to lovers

[m0-rax]

KINKTOBER DAY 6: Tentacles

Pairing: Hastur x GN! Reader

——————————————————

Hastur was always doing this. Mid match you’d be decoding a cipher and then he’d use one of his many tentacles to find you.

Once he found you, he always ensnared you in the tentacles on his body hidden beneath his clothes.

Quick work was always made of your clothes.

The fleshy touch of the massive tentacles he had on him always had you squirming, but he liked it that way.

To see his touch make you moan his name. His large hands would grasp at your waist and he’d fuck you right then and there.

He loved to see you writhe when your holes were filled to the brim by him. His tentacles pulsating in and out of you by the minute.

You could never move during these times, grip on you too tight to do so. Hastur would stare at you with his many eyes as he fucked you.

You always had to hope that you wouldn’t be caught when he decided to do this during matches.

His large fleshy cock would stretch your walls and have you screaming his name and pleasure engulfing your body.

Tears would stream down your cheeks but he wouldn’t listen. Any hole not being used by his cock was filled by his tentacles.

The slimy texture and smoothness of them made you feel so strange yet filled inside. He rubbed your sensitive areas just right.

If his hands weren’t on your hips they roamed your body feeling every part of the skin he’d exposed for his own viewing pleasure.

He’d use every part of your body for his pleasure and his enjoyment. You don’t know how much he enjoyed the view of you restrained by his tentacles.

The way those long, wiggly limbs penetrated you so rhythmically that you could beat a drum to the pace of each thrust.

He always filled you with his own cum and when he was done fucking you during a game, he’d leave you to get yourself put together again.

It would never be the last time though, he’d always come back for another round whether it be the day after or in the very same night.

Ever since he’d found another use for those tentacles of his.

[nikonandesu]

＃IDENTITY V !! — THAT DAY ( ORPHEUS X READER).

#. synopsis — he misses you and his heart aches over and over , constantly wondering what he could've done to prevent you from leaving .

#. characters — orpheus deross .

#. warnings — mentions of violence, physical assault .

#. word count — 2k.

#. author's note —okay wow, this is my first fanfic post on here, if this gets attention... perhaps people would want to request me in the future ? just a thought ! orpheus also has bpd here !

The look on your face was one of sheer terror, a look that Orpheus was all too familiar with.

He hated it, he hated it so much.

He knew you were scared the moment his senses came back to him, his arm out stretched while beneath him was your crumpled form wincing in utter pain. You didn't look so good, a feeling of regret instantly pooling into the pit of his gut. Were you still conscious? his mind was racing with thoughts that never seemed to end. He felt as if he was suspended in time — forever reminded of what he had just done to you.

NO, this couldn't be happening !

"Y/N, wait —" your name struggled to make it's way out of his mouth, nervously stumbling forward as he tried to keep you from vanishing. "I can explain, you have to belie—"

A shrilling scream left your trembling voice, something that forever haunted the deepest core of his memory. You quickly got up to your feet and without a second glance, left the room immediately as you could with tears streaming down your face in panic.

Orpheus remained speechless as he stood there, in the middle of his now empty study. Why did you run from him? why did you look at him as if a demon took over him? in the midst of his panicking, the novelist spotted a mirror that was cracked and he soon found his answer.

His eyes were a bright purple, almost startling himself as he breaks the glass to stop looking at his reflection. Another hasty decision his end, dropping to his knees as shards of glass pierced his now bleeding knuckles.

Huff... huff...

"... Y/N..." his voice trembled as he sobbed, left alone to his own devices. He wanted you back so badly, he couldn't handle how the silence was now beginning to suffocate him. He was used to the loneliness, but after meeting you — Orpheus had realized what it finally meant to have someone by his side. You were what gave warmth to the coldness of his personality.

Ever since he lost that girl from ages ago... the one family that meant the most to him. Now you were gone too, a fate that was worst than death.

"That's right... I was always meant for this fate. I am what a tragedy needs, never meaning to be whole again.." he talks about himself with malice, almost sneering as he felt the bitterness in the back of his throat.

"A fool is what I was meant to be."

[strawberryvera]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ VALENTINES WITH THEIR S/O —-˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

annie and edgar x gn reader head cannons!

cw: none!!

a/n: I haven’t written in forever, so I’m sorry I’m my writing comes off awkward!! I’m currently writing this at 1am, so my brain is kinda turned off so sorry if I make a sentence that litteraly just sounds like me yapping… nonetheless hope you enjoy!!

sfw!!

ANNE LESTER

- Annie was always such a sweetheart, and that never changed when she got with you! She loves Valentine’s Day, and she loves giving gifts! Expect to be given quite a few things by her.

- right when you woke up that morning, annie made sure to give you your gifts, the gifts consisted of a handmade teddy bear she gave you, and a small box of chocolates. She was particularly ecstatic about giving you the teddy bear, as toys were always the thing that bought her the most joy even at her lowest points, and she really hopes she can share that joy with you!

- cuddles on that day! Lots of them. She’s an affectionate person when it comes to you, and she makes sure to let you know that she wants today to be about you two. She will give you tons of hugs and forehead kisses :3 !!

- she also made you guys small matching wooden heart keychains! each of you got a half, and when you put it together, it forms a little wooden heart, how cute!

- you guys spent the day in annies workspace, you both sat down and made each other small wood carved toys about the size of your normal sea shell. With a bit of help from your dear annie, you made her a small wooden carved teddy bear, and a duck, and annie made you your favorite animal!

EDGAR VALDEN

- the arrogant and cold painter you where introduced to with your first interaction compared to how he is with you now, it’s almost so different to how he treats you now..I mean it’s still kinda there, but he tries his best to set that aside, especially today.

- he loves giving you his artwork as small gifts, he does it quite frequently actually. It was a portrait of you that he gave you on valentines, you can tell he spent extra time on this one to perfect it. Portraits and just drawing people in general aren’t necessarily his strong suit, so he was a bit nervous giving you it, but overall happy and content when he saw that you absolutely adored it.

- you very much loved the painting he gave you, and you made sure he knew. He loves receiving praise on his work, so you gave him lots of compliments and praises on the artwork, even if it boosted his ego a bit.

- he’s not very good at showing affection, let alone physical affection, but he tries, and he really did try today. He made sure to remind you that he loves you a lot verbally today, and made sure to give you lots of hugs today as well.

- you spent your day with edgar in the manor garden, where he painted you. He has painted you here before, but he did everything so that he could make it extra special, especially for the day it was.

[akuma-tenshi]

haven't been making enough shitposts lately. i've been slacking </3

[tallemy]

Florimatt Drabble - Unfinished

Time had already passed midnight and the rings of the bell became quiet whispers in the starless night, barely reaching the windowless office hidden in the heart of the library. No matter how much he listens, its melody remains unfinished, empty, just like the homunculus that never gained the spark of life and the letter that was supposed to be sent by the morning. His last words will remain nothing more than another unfinished sentence, a soft greeting written in pitch black ink cursed to be fed to the fire.

Eventually the only end Philemon had found was his own.

[fishermanshook]

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

[tatertotsafterdark]

Confined - Nightmare x Reader

18+ MDNI. READ “CONTAINS” SECTION BEFORE READING.

|| Exchanging your body for a chance to escape.

CONTAINS: -> DUB-CON &lt;-(Sex in exchange for safety, though verbal consent is given), AFAB READER, P IN V, PUBLIC SEX/VOYEURISM (briefly mentioned), NO AFTERCARE, MONSTER/MUTANT FUCKING, NOT CONSISTENT WITH LORE

1.2k words

As your fingers pound incessantly on the keys of the cipher machine, your back aches. Staying your days bent over a typewriter isn’t good for you, and your body protests against your current lifestyle. It isn’t really your fault, of course, because you didn’t really know what you were getting yourself into when you accepted the invitation to Oletus Manor. A colleague from an event you didn’t remember was so kind as to invite you to participate in a game in his lavish mansion, so you couldn’t decline. Thinking back to your happy, almost greedy, past self, makes you cringe. You’d much prefer to be at home in your favorite chair at the end of a long day, humming along to a tune you used to love. Your longing memories have lost so much detail since you’d come to the manor. You couldn’t remember the rhythm to your favorite show tunes or the faces of your favorite people.

It doesn’t matter anymore, though. This is your life, and this is probably where you’ll die. Deep in thought, you finally crack the cipher you were working on decoding. The machine makes a loud popping noise, and a small light above it fizzles to life. The sound makes a shiver run up your spine, despite hearing it countless times before. 

You knew you were lucky - hearing that sound so many times meant that you’d survived through so many of these twisted “games.” As you briskly jog to the next cipher, your mind starts to swim with negativity. Why haven’t you died yet? Why did this cruel world let you live, time after time? You’d outlived allies and enemies, and you didn’t let your mind take note of their faces or names. It’s best not to linger, especially at times like these. 

You approach the next cipher, cracking your knuckles. It’s too late by the time that you notice the crow flying in circles above you. Shit. You’d been marked by the hunter, a mutated man with a bird mask. You’d taken to calling him the same name that a woman you’d befriended had called him - Nightmare. He truly was one, a beastly creature that defied standards of natural sciences. Bulging muscles, a pen that appeared to be part of his hand, and extremely top heavy… you didn’t think he was human, frankly. But if he wasn’t human, what else would he be?

You’re broken out of your philosophical thinking by your heart starting to beat, breaking away from the machine you’d just arrived at. Your head swivels, looking in every direction to see where that… thing… was approaching from. You huff, breaking into a run as you dash towards the nearest wall. Around the corner, you find one of multiple bronze lockers scattered around the area. They served as perfect hiding spots, though they were definitely a tight squeeze. 

You take a deep breath in, swinging the doors open and slipping yourself inside of the locker. You take shallow, quiet breaths as your heart begins to pound. The beastly man was nearby now, and you knew it. Your kneecaps press into each other as you try to stand despite wanting to crawl up into a ball, thinking that Nightmare wouldn’t be able to find you if you were as small as possible. Your heart nearly stops as you hear a crow’s call outside, and you’re certain it does as you hear the clicking of a bird landing on top of the locker. Seconds later, the doors to the locker flings open and you try to scream. Despite your best efforts, not a sound escapes your lips. You stand there, looking pathetic, with your mouth agape. Your eyes look at the purple goggles resting on Nightmare’s face, and your knees buckle again. You fall to your knees, and your voice box decides to start work.

“Please- please don’t hurt me.” You whine out, feeling the hard metal below you. You uncomfortably adjust, putting on the facade of a poor beggar for the monster in front of you. 

“I can provide you with any kind of service you desire, I’m a jack of all trades, and in exchange you can let me go.” 

Your words are met with a huff, and you’re quickly lifted up. This monster only needed one hand to grab you by the shoulder and lift you to your feet. You know you should be scared, but you can’t help but feel somewhat aroused. You hadn’t so much as touched yourself since you arrived at the manor, unless it was to clean yourself. Your legs quiver a bit, and your cunt throbs at the thought of what taking this monster inside of you would be like.

Clearly, you’d broken your begging facade, as you’re quickly turned around. Your cheek presses against the cold metal, and your pants are haphazardly ripped off. It happens so fast, but you have time to say two words: “Yes please.”

If you were going to die, might as well go out with a bang.

The locker doors close slightly, trapping you between Nightmare and the back of the locker. Your lack of touch must’ve driven you crazy, because you slowly move your ass side to side, welcoming in this monster that’d mercilessly slaughtered at least one of your teammates. You're not disappointed, though, as he suddenly thrusts into you. You almost scream, feeling stretched out. His cock is so thick that it almost hurts to take it, but you ignore the stinging of what’s surely a torn hymen. It felt so good to be so full. 

Your pussy quickly adjusts to his size, slowly pushing yourself back into him, moaning desperately as you start fucking yourself on Nightmare’s cock. You were enjoying yourself, despite being scared out of your mind moments before. Claws on your hips signal you to stop, and Nightmare takes full control. His hips slam into you, filling you to the brim with his thick endowment. Moans of pleasure fill up the locker, feeling louder due to the small area.

Your cunt tightens around his length, already prepared to reach your peak with such little stimulation. Your back arches and you shake a bit as you start to cum on his cock, but he doesn’t slow down. Without hesitation, this monster that you should be terrified of continues to slam his hips against your ass, fucking you mercilessly.

Another grunt escapes Nightmare, and his claws dig deep into your hips, causing you to whimper. He cums, and you swear that your stomach started to bloat due to the sheer amount of his seed he’d pumped into you. A few sloppy thrusts later, he pulls out of you, leaving you sore and empty.

You turn around to face him, feeling his cum starting to drip out of you and down your thighs, but he’s already walking away, set on one of your teammates who had been watching. You pull your shirt down, trying your best to cover your ass and bruised hips. With a sigh, you fall back into your cycle, walking over to a cipher machine.