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fishermanshook · 22 days

Text

F!CK BOYS GONE SOFT

( mercenary , batter & prospector ) + gn!reader

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

INTRO

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

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

꒰wc꒱ 1.7k ( longest fic so far !! )

✦— THE MERCENARY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦— THE BATTER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What-?"

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

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

"Really? You love me?"

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

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

✦— THE PROSPECTOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 3 months

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Mating

Dragon Hunter!Composer x Dragoon!reader

Rated M | Warning: you both have dragon blood you can guess how that goes

The dragon blood within him sings when around you. At first, it sang the song of adversity. The first time you met him it was when he was hunting beasts. You were hired to save a child, nothing more nor were you aiming to kill the dragon within the area.

But he complicated the situation by making his battle some grand spectacle, the audience being you and the dragon blood-tainted child. The dragon only took what was offered as a payment for protecting the village, the child was theirs to raise as kin. Its blood binds it to the child and the child to it.

“Begone sellsword! You will only get in the way.” The Dragon Hunter is known for his might and bloodthirsty nature.

“You will stand down.” You are not a slave to your blood nor are you its master, you are equal to it. Human and dragon coexisting within body and soul, blood singing with power. “This dragon is innocent. Trickery has been done by mortal words.”

“You lie.” Not that he cared. The dragon is his prey and he will smite it! “Stay aside or fall with the beast!”

“So be it.” You pull the lance from behind your back and go into a battle stance. “Take your child and flee as far as you can.” Ordering the wounded dragon, the child clinging to its adopted parent. “Go no!” As you block the rush attack from the Dragon Hunter.

Each strike is blocked, and each attempt to go after the original prey is met with your lance snatching and throwing him into the ground.

“Fine, then I shall deal with you first!”

As a Dragoon, your dragon blood roars to life, the aura imbued into the lance and your armor. Those who have fallen crafted into the bone armor and redden by their rage. When the Dragon Hunter stabs his blade into your shoulder, you roar as you bring him into the air.

He is no match for a Dragoon in the air, this he learns when has he to attempt to ground you.

The fight is spectacular, the Dragon Hunter has never felt this rush, this thrill before! To meet one who battles like a dragon, to witness the might one can tap into when it draws upon the blood of such magnificent beasts!

“Marry me.”

You were on the ground holding yourself up by your lance and a knee on the ground. The veteran has met your match and now he towers above you equally a mess from the fight.

“Be mine and I will not hunt the dragon and its kin.” It is rather cruel to have you choose to forfeit your life for the lives of others—

“Then I shall wed you.” Standing up to keep your pride. You do not hesitate to save anyone at any cost.

Frederick has never heard of a Dragoon much less seen one, nor has anyone captured his attention the way you have. Your armor is different, with spikes and scales like a dragon. When he touched it he felt the wrath of its spirit, the mighty fury of a dragon in rage. The lance you call Gae Bolg is crafted to represent a dragon in flight and strike like the dive of one. Had the Dragon Hunter been a wizard or human, you surely would have killed him.

“This is unnecessary.”

“It is quite necessary!” He finally can see you and you can see him without the armor. “Though I intend to marry you, we should probably get to know each other.”

“Was the trip here not enough time to know my body well enough for you, Frederick the Dragon Hunter.” You say with no emotion.

The man nearly chokes on his wine. The dining table is decorated with all types of food, drinks, and treats. His wealth befits a dragon, greedily hoarding wealth but you must admit his kingdom seems prosperous despite his greed.

“Frederick, my dear. We do not need titles when alone.”

“We do. It keeps us from mating once again.” You are very bluntly stating the events as it is true. After the battle, a new fight started. Dragon mating can be… Rather frightening to see for humans, it is about domination, proof of worthiness, and in the end compatibility. As human dragon hybrids, this follows.

Several days of fighting before the actual mating happened. The wedding will only be symbolic for humans, and it seems the Dragon Hunter wants to fully entertain courting you in a human fashion.

You, being raised more as a dragon than a human, do not see the point given you marked him as your mate.

“Humor me. I think you will enjoy the human mating ritual.” Drinking his goblet of wine while you take a seat beside him, your hands on the table. He hums pleased but then stops drinking when you do not grab the utensils on the table. “Is something wrong?”

“I do not know how to use these.” Because you only eat food with your hands given you are wandering time.

There is a silence before he starts snickering.

“Careful Frederick, I will not be mocked.” You grab the fork awkwardly before he reaches over and gently corrects your hand and finger placement. “... Thank you.” Quietly saying those words. He does not mock you when you try using the fork by aggressively stabbing your plate. It is strange and you prefer using your hands, easier to pick up things.

After dinner, Frederick takes you to the armory. Here is displayed all of the various armors throughout the ages. His victories and paintings depicting them.

“Seems you truly are a worthy mate,” Examining one of his oldest armor, “A safe home for our children, you have means of protecting them, and a legacy for them to uphold.”

“Children, dragons move fast.”

“Dragons have no true concept of time. For humans, it will appear slow but for us, it will be a blink of an eye. We are eternal. Nothing has to be immediate.” True. Your father took many human centuries before deciding to mate and have a child. When time and death have no meeting, waiting an eternity is nothing.

“Would it be a topic to come again?”

“If you so wish.”

Frederick grew up with human parents, the church called upon him to consume dragon blood, and the people who needed a savior. You grew up with your father who consumed your mother so their souls are joined as one, you became a dragoon as traditions of old call upon all hybrid children of dragons, and you wander to see the world.

Two very different people bound by the instincts of the dragons.

There are a lot of things you learned from each other. A give and take, the wedding was strange and very elaborate. It pleases your mate so you go along with it. Your father had given the Dragon Hunter his blessings and attended the wedding. The great Siegfried, the first and last Dragon Slayer of his kind. You never knew the human remembered as a hero once more, last your father recalls the human deemed him a monster. He was a human who became a dragon to save his home.

Interesting how times have changed.

The celebration after was much louder and Father took a human form for the occasion.

Dancing, eating, drinking, the weird sentimental speeches. More drinking and dancing. The celebration lasted until the evening when it was announced the newlyweds were leaving. The unspoken time for mating.

“Now they all know we are having sex.” Humans are strange.

“It is not exactly a secret when we slip away to our chambers what is going to happen.”

“Still, humans love to claim they are so reserved yet are easily enthralled by desires. Next, they are going to ask to witness our mating to ensure we have consummated our marriage.” You are naked now and Frederick barely has his ceremonial armor off. “Get on the bed.”

“I am still— Oh.” Pinned down on the bed with you on top of him straddling them without shame as you are naked for only him to see. The scales of your dragon heritage shine in the light of the candles in the room. His eyes dare not wander as your gaze locks his with yours.

“You can still perform with the armor on. In fact, you may need the extra protection for our mating.”

That certainly makes his dragon stir, “I can handle you.”

“Show me, dragon hunter.” Grinning at him.

#idv #reader insert #fanfiction #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #identity v composer #composer x reader #composer x you #frederick kreiburg x you #frederick kreiburg x reader #frederick kreiburg

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acosmicblizzard · 1 month

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Hello there! Such a cute blog the colours and aesthetic reminds me of cheesecake and sweet pastries ❤️❤️❤️

May I request something with idv? Can I request a headcanon about a baker female survivor, who loves to bake for both the survivors and even the hunters. She even goes to the hunters side to give them their favourite pastries. She’s not a talker but she likes to show how she’s feeling through actions. She’s very motherly to both the survivors and hunters and even during matches she leaves muffins behind her whenever the hunter is chasing her (a sneaky way of distracting the hunter while the others decode and she gets away) also her pastries serve as an energy boost and healing to the survivors during matches.

Hello! Thank you so much for the request! It took me awhile due to dealing with some writers block but I'm finally feeling well enough to write!

Various survivors & hunters with a Female Baker Survivor Reader.

Warnings: Mentions of food

Story type: Fluff, Au, can be considered platonic or romantic depending on the characters being interacted with.

Pairings/Characters: Various

The manor getting new survivors is nothing new, so when another red wax sealed letter was sent out people on both sides were expecting either a new ally, or simply another prey. Once you arrived some rushed to greet you, some stayed to the side and watched, some never interacted with at all, some were weary, there were a lot of different reactions due to the many different personalities of the residents of the manor.

Whenever the first few matches started, it took awhile for some survivors to get use to you handing out treats. Confused as to why you baked treats for a murder game only to come to realize that firstly, they tasted good, and the benefits they gave. It took some survivors like Naib, Aesop, Kreacher, and some others a longer time to actually take the treats though given their personalities and various other issues. Eventually though, they'll all get use to your helping and kind presence in matches.

When this kindness started extending to the hunters, many of them were suspicious. However some of them like robbie accepted the treats with glee, which gradually had some of the hunters start warming up to you. Even if your treats can be a bit annoying if you give them to another survivor mid kite or how distracting they can get when left on the ground while they're chasing you, it's hard to deny that you're handing them out of the kindness of your heart and generally just want the best for others.

Overtime, the younger end of survivors and hunters especially the ones who are children, teenagers, or just barely young adults often stay by your side. Finding your presence very comfy and welcoming among all the different people in the manor. Not only can you make some hella good treats, you're also a very comforting and caring person that they can go to for comfort.

Time will continue to go on in these endless games, but your kindness and sweet treats will remain a staple bright light amidst all the chaos and fighting.

#identity v #idv #identity v headcanons #idv headcanons #idv fanfic #identity v fanfic #idv x reader #identity v x reader #platonic identity v #platonic idv #fanfiction

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heartshapedbubble · 9 months

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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.

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akuma-tenshi · 7 months

Text

writing a cute little college au halloween fic and this is basically a summary of the whole thing

#yes it's for another rarepair what about it #rambling #idv #identity v #victor grantz #idv postman #emil mesmer #idv emil #idv patient #idv luminary #luca balsa #idv prisoner #idv paranormal detective #there's more dw #halloween #fanfiction

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olliesneweyes · 14 days

Text

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

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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m0-rax · 7 months

Text

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.

#fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #identity v #kinktober #smut #hastur #idv feaster #feaster #identity 5 #idv hastur #tentacles

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smittenroses · 10 months

Note

Hiii

If you have time could you write Hastur comforting (or helping in his own strange way, he's still an eldritch god lol) overstimulated reader.

Sensory overload has been kicking my ass recently </3

Your work makes me so happy, and motivated me to start learning how to write in my free time

— To Be Human

ask box open | commissions open | hit the tip jar | Patreon

Fandom — Identity V Pairing — Feaster | Hastur/reader (suggest this takes place in the same universe as the Mouse and the Cats) Summary — Hastur's knowledge of humans is still lacking. You constantly confuse him — he adores that. Content Warnings — mentions of Hastur eating people Word Count — 532 words Author's note — when I got this in my inbox my heart bloody melted, nonnie. To be the person that motivates you to learn how to write is such an honor and I do hope to be able to read your stuff sometime in the future 💕

Endless knowledge, endless power, and yet Hastur always found himself to be confused by you. So tiny, so frail against his mighty form, one that you had grown close to despite the knowledge he had feasted on mortals, feasted on the innocent and guilty alike, yet you always sought comfort in his endless robes.

“For what does my most devote follower need?” He asked one day as he felt your presence against the back of his robe, feeling the way your arms came to wrap around the vast colours of soiled yellows and whites of his sins, your face pressed against the fabric that smelt of the sea. When you did not reply, he allowed his body to shift ever so slightly to look down at you, seeing the way your hands trembled and shook. Though his form of slightly involved his body contorting in inhuman ways, his spine audibly growing and shaping in order to allow him to commit the impossible.

Like a rabbit or sheep ready for the dinner table, your soul smelled divine to him as the two of you stood in the manor’s library.

“I cannot aid you unless you speak up, mouse.” His hand came to cup itself under your chin, raising your face away from his clothes, tentacles appearing from the abyss to slowly stroke at your legs. “Ah, have you been crying, little one?” He muttered, his thumb coming to caress your cheek. “I can smell your sadness,” he muttered softly, even if his voice may boom like the mountains in your mind, “who did this to you?” To make a devotee cry, to sadden the one thing that did not fear him besides the snake wrench that wandered the halls, it was a notch on his soul, one that fanned the embers of rage that constantly welled in his heart.

“No one…” You finally muttered, your words soft and meek in reply, “the world is just too loud, lord.”

“Too loud?” he questioned as you buried your face back into his robes, escaping the merciful touch of the Lord in Yellow as you weeped. “What thing do I have to silence to bring you peace?” For you, he would send any animal, person, god to the abyss, to the eternal silence and madness that was where he crept, but yet your fingers clenched tighter on his cloak and he knew all at once something that made his soul ache and burn.

This was not something he could squash with the weight of madness. He could not even grasp it in his feeble hands. “Talk to me, dear mouse. What is it that makes you cry so?” As you began to talk about the sound of the wind in the trees, the texture of food you dislike, the feeling of cuts and bruises on your skin that would not fade; it all overwhelmed you so, caused for your mind to whirl and your senses to increase.

“Stay for as long as you need, mouse.”

Wrapping the edges of his coat around your shoulders, he did not let you leave until your heaves softened and your eyes dried, you were his most devoted follower after all.

#identity v #idv #x reader #identity v x reader #idv x reader #gender neutral reader #idv hastur #idv hastur x reader #identity v hastur #idv feaster x reader #idv feaster #idv fanfiction

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scaraluvrr · 5 months

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hi scara nation!!

i’m not new to tumblr but new to actually sharing my writing! expect mostly scara focused content, requests are always open unless said otherwise! will make intro post soon!

im 16, dni if that makes u uncomfortable.

i do write smut!

yandere req are okay, im not comfortable with incest/dub-con

fandoms i take requests for:

•Genshin Impact

•Identity V

•The Walking Dead

•Stardew Valley

all my work is mostly self indulgent,,, reader will have gender neutral pronouns but afab genitals, i’m not too confident in my abilities to write amab BUT i will try!

#scara smut #balladeer x reader #scaramouche comfort #scaramouche smut #yandere scaramouche #genshin #genshin impact #identity v #idv fanfic #idv smut #twd negan #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead negan

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overmore · 4 months

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Alvaluca fic recommendation list

quite literally because I can. no other reason.

Forest's Warden by Arcanu

Probably considered the alvaluca fic by now. the longest one too. still ongoing as of the time this post is made, over 600k words. You will not regret reading this fic I promise you!

Stay with me by Arcanu

Finished, 45k words. Set in the truth and inference universe, a Warden x Paranormal Detective fic. Absolutely amazing, loved every second of it.

Baby, It's cold outside by StrawberryCheeseCake

Finished, 16k words. This was the first alvaluca fic I read. This was also written by someone who's now a really good friend of mine with who I share the alvaluca obsession now.

bubble pop electric by sanriodanshi

Finished, 9k words. First fic in a small series, very good. Focuses on pre-incident alvaluca and how their relationship looked like, with a bit of manor setting alvaluca at the end. Heavily recommend alongside the rest of the series!

3. Pets by sadraven8

Finished, 3.6k words. Very sweet pre relationship gen fic that focused on a more relaxed moments between them. Love the manor au too!

Forbidden by TheRedRedness

Finished, 3.7k words. White Tombstone au. Interesting take on adding characters that originally weren't in the game.

Small bonus aka my own fic:

Lifeless Stars

Ongoing fic, currently at 31k words. A bit slow on updates but worth the try!

#alvaluca #idv #identity v #fic rec #idv prisoner #idv hermit #alva x luca #fanfiction #idv fanfic

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lostarchivesoforpheus · 3 months

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`•- Their Love Languages

antonio paganini, andrew kreiss, kevin ayuso, luchino diruse, matthias czernin, naib subedar, william ellis x gn reader (all seperate)

prompt: love languages

warnings: physical touch (obvs cuz it's one of the love languages lmao)

a/n: wasn't able to get this out on time cuz i was busy but day 6 of the valentines event yippee!! also i have now spent 161 pulls for matthias and i still haven't gotten him yet. im now entering my villain arc

Starting off, Antonio loves giving you words of affirmation and physical touch. Every single day, whenever he's around you, he'll be holding your hand or hugging you affectionately as he whispers compliments and sweet words into your ears. He'll back off a bit if you dislike PDA, though. As much as he just wants to pick you up and smother you with his affection, he'll happily wait until the two of you are in private if that's what makes you comfortable. When it comes to receiving love, Antonio likes words of affirmation and quality time. He's often busy with matches or practicing a new song, so any time spent with you is time he treasures. It also makes him giddy whenever you compliment him. Whether it be you praising him after playing a song or doing well in a match, he always loves receiving your compliments.

Andrew is a bit awkward with his affection, but he loves to give you quality time whenever he can. It's not really something he can explain, but something about you just being there with him seems to wash all his worries away and make him feel truly at peace. Also, he likes to receive words of affirmation from you. Again, your presence is soothing to him, and whenever you give him kind words and reassurances, it always makes him feel calm and happy.

Kevin is extremely affectionate, and he loves giving just about everything. Oftentimes, when he's near you, he'll come up behind you and gently wrap his arms around your waist, giving you a surprise hug as well as a quick kiss on the cheek. He also likes giving you little compliments accompanied by affectionate petnames as he hugs you. Also, he'll be happy to take care of just about anything for you if he sees that you're feeling tired or unwell, and he'll give you a little gift in hopes that he can cheer you up, even if just a little bit. When it comes to receiving your affection, Kevin adores whenever you spend quality time with him or do little acts of service to help him. It never fails to make him feel warm inside when you offer to do some little mundane tasks for him before sitting down on the couch and cuddling with him.

Luchino is very busy, so he tries to apologize for it by spending quality time with you. He doesn't have very much time between matches and continuing his research on whatever new topic has caught his interest, but he always tries to make time for you at least once or twice a day. Oftentimes, he'll spend lunch with you, engaging in a pleasant conversation with you before he returns to his work. Sometimes, though, his work keeps him busy during your usual noon meeting times, so he tries to apologize by finding you sometime later in the day and spending a few moments with you. When he's receiving affection, Luchino loves whenever you give him words of affirmation and physical touch. It always warms his heart whenever you pay him a visit while he's working himself to the bone in his office. When you walk over to his chair and gently massage his shoulders while you whisper kind words in his ears, he just absolutely melts. He has a soft spot for you, and whenever you're sweet and kind to him, he always feels warm and fuzzy on the inside.

Matthias doesn't really know how to show affection, but he always tries to give you some quality time and gifts in order to show his love to you. Mostly, he just likes to be around you, as your presence tends to make him feel less worried and more peaceful. Oftentimes, the two of you aren't really doing anything specific together, he just likes to tag along with you wherever you go. Also, he'll often try to give you some small things that remind him of you. Typically, he either picks a few flowers from the manor's garden and gives them to you in a small bouquet, or he'll give you small little trinkets like a locket or something of the sort for you to keep in your pockets for good luck. When he receives affection from you, he values words of affirmation the most. Your kind reassurances always help him whenever he's feeling worried or doubtful of himself, and he feels honoured that you think of him so highly. He also likes receiving physical touch, though he prefers if you'd ask first before you touch him; It makes him more comfortable.

Naib isn't the best with affection, but he tries his best for you, and he often shows his love through acts of service and quality time. Most often, he tries to take care of miscellaneous tasks for you so that you're not too exhausted by the end of the day, and he loves to sit down and relax with you on the couch in the evenings. He's not used to receiving affection, so any kind actions from you tend to make him feel warm and jittery inside, really. Though, he especially loves whenever you give him words of affirmation or physical touch. After a long day, Naib loves nothing more than when you cuddle up to him and make him swoon with sweet compliments. He practically melts in your embrace every time, and all of his worry and stress that built up our the course of the day seems to dissipate immediately, leaving a happy and content Naib leaning comfortably into your touch.

Lastly, William is also very affectionate, and he likes to show you love through physical touch and gift giving the most. Several times throughout the day, he'll just casually walk up to you and proceed to give you the tightest spine-crushing hug ever before letting go, ruffling your hair, and walking off to go participate in another match with a goofy smile. He also gives you a bunch of random things, usually for no reason besides that he thought you'd like it. He gives you just about anything, whether it be flowers, chocolate, necklaces, or other things. He just likes to shower you in love and affection constantly. When he's on the receiving end, William is a sucker for words of affirmation and quality time. He just loves it whenever you tell him how great he did in a match or how well he did when practicing rugby, it just seems to always make him feel all giddy inside, and he can't help but grin like a lovestruck fool. He also adores the moments whenever you two are hanging around together. It doesn't matter what the two of you are doing, he just loves being able to spend time with you.

a/n: was gonna add some of the girls and also a few more guys in here too but i ran out of time rip

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

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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

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 4 months

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Hello! May I make another request?

Can I request a Frederick x fem reader. Ya know the scene where he pulled out the gun and pushed orphy with it and pointed it on the ground when he told Alice to place the box on the ground? (Him with a gun is so hot) can it be like a similar situation, for example reader and Alice are close friends and they went to the manor together. nsfw

I was just talking to @turbulentscrawl about the THAT scene, buddy only had one round and if he shot it then his glass jaw was done for lolol also based it off this post

Rated Mature | Warnings: Reader has a past (tm)

Alice deserves to be called 'good girl' (listen!)

“A single barrel pistol,” Cold, “Meaning you have exactly one bullet.” The Composer's eyes narrow at your words, “Once that bullet is gone, you will have only maybe that cane of yours as a weapon or you better start running.” Laying out his choices.

Alice stands behind you, rather you place yourself in front of Alice who looks at you surprised. Back at the orphanage, you always were the defender the children flocked to; Alice too back then looked up to you.

Still does as she knew for this investigation she will need an ally. Someone to watch her back.

“Better make that shot count, Frederick.” This is not your first time being held at gunpoint, sadly as a kid, you were the fighter. It was your only way to survive, none of the adults helped— Whether they cared or not, it didn't matter, you had to fight. As you got older, you got involved with the wrong side of the law. A driver, the type that helps with getaway driving and deliveries– No questions asked, no identification shared on your side.

Frederick looks at you, you know desperation when you see it.

The roar of thunder echoes, blood spills, and Frederick stands there in shock.

You grunt in pain but strike him with a right hook, he stumbled backward holding his face, hand dropping the cane in his hand.

“(False Name)!” Alice catches you before you fall to your knee, blood slipping out of your shoulder from the bullet wound. “Are you crazy!?”

You laugh as Frederick doesn't get up as Orpheus, who so happens to show up after the showdown, restrains him with a rope he found at the stables.

“Is the bullet out?” Alice nods at your question and points to the ground where it landed, “Good. Remember what I showed you?”

Alice does first aid, not her first time patching you up after a firefight.

“Good girl.” A low voice to have only for her to hear you as she makes a sling using your jacket.

“Gonna dump him in the same spot as his great-grandmother's favorite horse?” You ask Orpheus who gives you an inquisitive look.

“She is not my great-grandmother.” Frederick corrects you.

“Whatever, we can just say he went missing.” Shrugging then hissing at the pain.

All of them look at you like you said something horrible.

“He almost killed me, remember!”

You once told Alice, as a joke, that you would stay with her like the Cheshire cat as she makes her way down this rabbit hole. You are loyal to her, always have been since the orphanage. And even as the world turned to a new nightmare, as the truth about the manor became murky yet clear, you remained steadfast to your word.

Driver, this is the title given to you upon the first match.

The game is akin to a story you have read once during your late shifts of being the getaway driver. Something about man being the greatest beast to hunt. This game is just like that.

A single hunter versus five survivors. Only, the twist is that everyone has strange abilities that can make or break a game.

Ciphers. Exit gates. Dungeons to escape. Chairs, the fucked roller-coaster ride seats with loads of fireworks under it with a timer attached.

It's a sick game you are forced to play with others.

You try to put science to all this but none of it makes sense. Maybe… You hate having to accept this is outside the realm of science you know or logic that is well, logic.

Alice is not safe, and you aren't either, but she is your priority.

Two ciphers down, fuck this game, the hunter is tailing you like a wolf hungry for meat. You stumble as you climb through a window after using a pair of gloves that boost your speed.

The hunter loses you thanks to a person titled Batter.

You limp over to a toolbox looking for hopefully some form of first aid— That miracle syringe Doctor has.

The people in your group are Journalist, Batter, and Composer.

Yeah, strange seeing— much less being in a group with a guy who nearly killed you run over, after priming the cipher, to you and patching you up the best he can. His hands are steady, nibble, and quick as they all had to learn how to patch each other up. This isn’t a game one can win by playing lone wolf, in order to survive everyone has to work as a team. Even if that means working with someone who tried to kill you.

Now, to say you hang that over his head is not true. In the line of work you had been in, you sometimes had to work under pressure with people who may have threatened you with any form of physical violence. You rolled with the punches, often literally, but you lived. Life hardened you, and you moved on (though moving on does not mean you forgive them). Guilt bites at the Composer in a way that you had not expected.

Relationships are not unheard of but rare. One-night stands are not rare but not as common because most do not want to deal with drama while trying to get through a match.

You were open to having sex, it is a destresser and you can do it with no strings attached. Luca was one you had bedded a few times, fun guy. Norton too but he is a messy one, the mood swings had ended the arrangement fast (though you did let him have it when you both got into a fight in the duo match).

Past adventures, the present adventure is the man now kiting with you against Naiad.

The gate currently opened (thanks to Alice), is blocked by the mer-bitch (you… dislike her or rather going against her).

Composer takes a hit to distract as he hasn’t taken any damage during the match. You follow up by shooting the hunter with the flare gun then dashing to follow out.

The match ends in a victory for the survivors.

“See you tonight.” Upon entering the manor you pat his shoulder before leaving off to check on Alice.

Frederick Kreiburg could be considered boring.

There are not always nights with that raw passion that would make the Gods blush sort of thing. Nothing like romance novels with the life-altering sex the protagonists have.

It is… Well, it is like making love honestly.

With Luca, you had fun. Playful and a lot of teasing. With Norton, it was like a fight, rough and hard that left you swore for days. Even the time you slept with Demi after a long of partying, it was fun and sweet.

With Frederick, this love. He is the composer and you are the orchestra. Each symphony played with care, practice, and with love.

You never made love before. Sex is one thing, fucking around is another, but love is different. It is just as consuming as lust but lingers longer than lust. It has you biting your lip as Frederick removes your slippers from when you bathed, his lips kissing the top of your foot, his hand massaging the soreness under your foot.

It is like being worshiped and adored in a way lust cannot give you.

He travels upward slowly, his gloves tossed to the floor, your leg brought up to rest on his shoulder and the other leg guided to open you up to him.

Like a flower, or something poetic.

“Frederick.” You don't realize how pent-up you are until he kisses the inside of your exposed thigh. The bathrobe opened and slumped around your waist. “Fuck.” Moaned out.

He enjoys making you sing, enjoys seeing that hardened exterior crumble to expose that you are just as starved just as him. He takes his time preparing you. Every action is blessed by a tune he knows you ask later what song he is singing. You enjoy hearing him talk about his music.

When he finally lets you cum, you nearly jump him in your eagerness to get him naked. The Composer is different from you, you like that.

“I love you.”

To think he pulled out a gun and had shot you during the struggle.

“Say it again.” Between his legs.

“I ah l-love you.”

The hum of an old song, Clair de Lune, sounds pretty, as you blow him is fun. He has to guess the song before he cums.

The fun part is after when you let him gather himself before the union. The crescendo (you told him and found it amusing that you tried learning musical terms to flirt with him), the part that you both have to fight to not be so loud. Even if his room is free of neighbors (a few less than other sections), you more than once had to tell Naib to shut up with the teasing about Frederick moaning.

Yes, you possess those moans and the Mercenary does not need to be an ass.

The low, yet comforting part, is the post-orgasm part.

Lying there basking in the glow. You are clingy and praising him endlessly, it is something you enjoy doing with your partners. He falls asleep fast when you ‘overwork’ him, the man needs the sleep and you need to let out some post-match steam.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #frederick kreiburg x reader #idv composer #idv reader insert #idv x you #identity v x you #identity v #identity composer #reader insert #ask #fanfiction #idv #composer x reader #composer x you

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