Norton Campbell is the type of boyfriend who initially struggles to find peace at night. He lies on his side, his back turned to you, muscles tense and restless. The shadows in the room seem to mirror the turmoil in his mind, and you can sense the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. It takes time for him to unwind, the silence thick with the echoes of his past.
But as the night deepens, a shift begins. You feel him gradually relax, his breathing becoming steadier. He turns toward you, and you catch a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes before he pulls you in by your waist, guiding you to rest against his chest. The warmth of his body envelops you, and there’s a sense of safety in the way he tugs you closer, as if he’s claiming the moment for both of you.
Once you’re nestled against him, he often lets his hand slide to your thigh, the weight of it grounding him. His fingers linger, tracing soft, deliberate patterns that send shivers up your spine. Sometimes, he’ll slip his hand under the hem of your shirt, his touch warm against your skin, igniting a gentle spark of intimacy. It’s a silent exchange, a way for him to connect with you deeply, feeling your warmth and letting go of the chaos outside.
As he buries his face into your hair, inhaling your scent, you can feel the tension in his body fade. He finds solace in your closeness, his breath warm against your neck, and you sense how much he craves this connection. Occasionally, he’ll shift slightly, urging you to lean deeper into him, his arm wrapping securely around your waist, pulling you even closer. It’s possessive yet tender, a protective embrace that makes you feel cherished.
When nightmares stir him from sleep, his body tenses again, but your presence acts as an anchor. He instinctively pulls you closer, his hand tightening on your thigh, fingers digging in just enough to convey his need for comfort. In those moments, you whisper soothing words, and he leans into your voice, drawing strength from your closeness. Your heartbeat becomes a steady rhythm that calms the storm inside him.
Eventually, he relaxes again, his breath evening out as he drapes his arm protectively around you. In those quiet hours, you’ve created a cocoon of safety where he can finally surrender his burdens, if only for a little while. Being wrapped in his embrace, you know that even through the shadows of his past, he finds light in your presence, a quiet intimacy that binds you both in a world that often feels chaotic.
I don't know if you're an Edgar fan, but I think a lot about Edgar being in charge no matter what his lover is like. They could be taller, older, more power in society idk but Edgar would not settle to be seen or feel like the 'lesser' one in the relationship. It would carry over to the bedroom for sure
Yeah, I think Edgar values himself too much to let someone else make the decisions. He would also want his partner to do most of the work.
Since the only think valuable to him his art, bedroom activities would need to be a form of art in his eyes & he would be very picky about it. & it would be expected that his partner learn fast & to pick on his signals.
He also wouldn’t be satisfied with the same things. He need novelty. & if you want something specific, you better be subtle about it & make him believe the idea comes from him for better results.
But if he’s willing to have a partner, that person is probably hella special in his eyes. Otherwise he wouldn’t accept them anywhere near him. So he would probably value their opinions & needs.
But yeah I don’t think he would accept to not be the one in control. If he let his partner takes charge for entertainment, he’s making it clear that he can take the control back any time & that it will not go unpunished.
Also if his partner is of higher standing, taller, etc. having them comply to his every needs & demands is what gets him going. He is superior to everyone & that’s just another proof.
Another ego boost he probably shouldn’t be getting x)
I honestly thought he was gonna hit the hunter with his canvas when his ability was announced to be of the excitment category & with how is personality was. So no, nobody can order him around.
Fandom — Identity V
Pairing — (Tea Party, Quinlan) Acrobat | Mike Morton/reader
Summary — His eyes, enchanting as they were, they were unnatural, inhumane. A brief romance, one where the pressure of the world ceases.
Content warnings — alcohol consumption, Mike biting the reader (literally)
Word count — 561 words
Author's note — Happy Halloween, a special for those who enjoy a bit of vampiric romance. Mike is referred to as Quinlan in this fic, as that is his name in the Vampire lore.
A bright moonlit night accompanied you on the balcony of the castle, your wine glass in hand as you swished it around daintily, softly, the whirlpool within seeming to play its own song as you did so. Soft and slow, it enchanted your gaze in that moonlit night, pulling you under its spell as the orchestra inside continued to play.
"Surprised to see someone out here tonight," a voice began, "shouldn't you be inside?"
Your gaze rose from the glass to inspect the young man that had made himself known, green top hat and freckles that seemed to glow under the moonlight. "Quinlan, I am not interested in your special wine tonight."
"I am not asking for you to taste the wine." Your eyebrows rose, watching as the dhvampire made his way to your side, his footsteps light upon the ground, almost floating as he leaned his weight against the rail alongside you. A charm, a flirt, Quinlan was the last person you'd expect to be accompanying you on the outskirts but he was oddly quiet.
Turning back to the scenery decorated with Jack'o'Lanterns plenty, the cool night kissed upon your wine-heated skin as you took a sip of its rim, letting the bitter-sweet burn cascade down your throat. It was a bitter poison you partook in and yet you could feel eyes on you, watching as that dark red drop spilt from your lips, rolling down your cheek.
To be a vampire's centre of attention, to have their full gaze on you without lusting for the blood inside of you, thrilled you to the core. Yet as your eyes locked with his, those swirling pools of colour seemed to be as entranced as you with him.
"Is it a crime to observe a pretty thing?" Quinlan questioned, his fingers drumming against the rail, "besides, I would say I was a little parched myself."
If wine was what he was after, you rest your glass next to his hand, briefly brushing against the cool, freckled skin with your own.
He seemed to have plans that conflicted against your own, however.
Grasping your hand in a grip so tight, your body melded with his as those fangs, those long fangs that humans usually dreaded grazed against your wrist, Quinlan's eyes shining with a mischievous delight at the way your body trembled and shook with surprise.
It wasn't fright that coursed through your veins, causing your heart to beat loud within your ears.
It wasn't the pain that flooded your system that you focused on as he allowed his fangs to lightly pierce your flesh, watching as he savoured your taste like a man enjoying his last meal.
It was the fact he stared at you, his eyes unblinking, unmoving from your gaze as he tasted your blood, the crimson staining his mouth in such a lovely red that only seemed to highlight his smile.
One may have called that bite one of the dead years ago, yet his expression showed no intent of death, no intent to maim. A claiming bite, a love bite.
"A person who has drunk wine has such a sweet flavour." Quinlan spoke, licking droplets that threatened to roll down your wrist, "the most delicious meal." Yet he didn't let go of your hand.
Fingers intertwining, he lead you to the floor; the vampire's waltz had just begun.
“Staring into space, love?„ — Jack the Ripper with a Spacey S/o
Fandom — Identity V
Pairing — Jack the Ripper/Reader
Content Warnings — you get poked with a knife, mentions of murder and blood (not graphic), violent thoughts (him towards you) (briefly)
Author's note —[none, ily [platonically] dude tho lmao]
As people should know, Jack is an asshole; a pompous asshole who enjoys tormenting those around him in ways that wouldn't get his head chopped off by Bane or Burke (as those two help keep the hunters... civil).
By god, you swear his "love language", if you could call it that, was frightening you every time he could.
When your beloved can turn invisible at will, it is to be expected.
He can and will use the fact that you stare into space often to frighten you, dragging his fingers along any exposed skin he can find, blowing on exposed skin with that icy breath of his, etc. If you haven't heard him walking up to you when he was invisible, it frankly was on you.
Jack has poked you with one of his claws before, though it was because he had asked you a question about the paintings that decorated the manor walls and you hadn't answered even when he had called. What else was he supposed to do?
Now Jack won't admit this, especially since he prides himself on not being poetic, but there are little drawings of you stuffed into the desk drawers of his room; his previous self, the real Jack that had once held the body, had never truly disappeared, being ingrained in muscle memory that twitched and begged for him to draw.
When you're spaced out, he commits your features to memory, taking note of things such as items you were holding, what you were looking at, what were you doing, etc. Each of these little things gets put into a drawing.
Sometimes, he even wonders, staring at your blissful face as you stare into nothingness, how you could even stand him. He wonders what allured you to him and what was so alluring about you. He wonders what it would have been like if he, The Ripper, was still being suppressed, only able to watch from a window if the 'good' Jack had remained.
He was nothing more than a killer, someone whose heart beat fast for the blood of those on his hands.
Those feelings get forgotten the moment you would come back, smiling at him with that smile that made him, for a while, forget that annoying, nagging voice that wished to tear you apart.
All seemed right in the world for that short moment.
"you make me feel all warm and fuzzy" Mike Morton please 👉👈
Glow || Mike Morton/Acrobat x reader
this request is based upon the endearing prompts
angst ahead ❤
The manor was unusually quiet today, the jester-esque man not seeming to make himself present in any sort of situation in the morning, and by the time he had revealed himself, it had already been lunch. While he would usually brighten the halls, the frown on his face was something rather jarring to see, especially the way how he didn't greet anyone or make any sort of joke. In fact, he was almost dead silent as he made his way through the rooms to the kitchen, and was equally as quiet as he made his way back to the sleeping quarters.
"What's the matter with Mike?" You whispered to Margaretha as soon as Mike had left, the dancer sighing as she looked towards you.
"He's in one of his moods. You can really tell when he's not wearing his costume." She was right, Mike the Acrobat wasn't even wearing his acrobat costume when you saw him, in fact, he was just wearing a button-up and some slacks, no shoes, and not even a hint of any of his normal clownish makeup. He was rather plain, he was ordinary.
This behaviour continued for a few days, with Mike only seemingly coming out to eat or use any other facilities that he needed. But then one day he just... didn't show up at all. No one had seen him that day, he hadn't gotten any food, used the toilet, and nobody had seen his name card when the shower had been running, and it was becoming concerning really fast. Usually, the Acrobat was able to bounce back to his normal self after a few days, but even those that had known him the longest had mentioned that this was unusual behaviour.
And this is why you found yourself in front of his room, clutching the tray that you had brought along with you. Maybe if you were to go in and leave these on his desk, maybe he'd eat it - and roast was his favourite sort of dish, after all, he maybe couldn't pass up the opportunity to have roasted, honey-covered carrots and chicken and you knew how much he hated to waste food. Yet when you knocked on the door, his voice sounded so... sad and weak, it was almost a shadow of his normal self.
"Mike, I brought you dinner, can I come in?" He didn't answer, but the gentle tapping of feet on the other side let you know he was awake, and when the door creaked open a bit for Mike to peer out an azure eye you gave him a small smile. "It's roast. Murro helped make it." You knew that Mike had a soft spot for the man, and watching as his eye softened a bit before the door shut, you heard the deadbolt [something that all the survivors had installed due to frequent instances of Kreacher stealing things] come undone before the door opened up fully.
"Yeah, it smells good." He was trying to put on a happy face, but as he tried to take the tray you decided to let yourself in, mentioning something about how it was decently heavy, and you didn't want to bother Mike with having to carry it. And oh dear, his room was a mess: clothes strewn all over the floor, empty bowls, plates and even dirty cutlery piling up on his desk, and even his diary seemed to be in somewhat of a shamble, with ink spilt over the pages from the ink well that usually was in the divet in his desk. It almost smelt like death.
This was a depression room.
You had seen many depression rooms happen within the manor, from Emma to Jose, everyone eventually would have a depression room since hope was something hard to keep a hold onto, but this was the quickest one had gone into this much disarray since the day before it had started, his room was basically spotless from you helping with the laundry.
Finding a semi-clean spot, you sat the tray down, having to step over things in order to reach the spot, and then bending down, you began to pile things into your arms.
"You don't have to-"
"Mike, you need help here. I'm just going to help you, you need to eat." There was no room for discussion on your decision, and as Mike cleared away some of his clutter and began eating, you made quick work of the clothing scattered around the room, throwing them into the nearby hamper to be taken down to the laundry room later before beginning to stack the dirty dinnerware that most likely had been sitting there for a while.
The way he hunched himself in his spot, gently picking at the food that sat on the tray in his lap, it was obvious that the man was ashamed for how he had to get help, but sighing as you finished stacking the plates and bowls on top of the nightstand, you sat down next to Mike now on the semi-clean bed. "Listen, you don't need to tell me what's on your mind, but please know that I'm still here to help you." Grasping his shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze, you smiled slightly at the small hint of a smile that showed on his scarred face, the man finally taking a bit of the lukewarm carrots on his plate.
"I know but, sometimes, things can't be helped." It most likely revolved around the rest of the surviving hullabaloo cast members, as you weren't stupid, you knew how Mike would stare at them as if they were a piece of dirt on the bottom of his shoe, you knew that despite the other cast members wanting to try and have a friendship with him were pushed away. Yet none of them held malice for him. Yet he held onto his. "... Thank you..." The man mumbled, having a mouth full of chicken as he spoke, "you shouldn't help me though." We're all criminals, after all you finished in your head, already knowing what he was thinking; when you had first came to the manor, you didn't know why everyone else was here, but over time, finding out that the manor seemingly was here for them to repent for their crimes, it always seemed a bit more homely, and as much as everyone else had came to terms with what they've done and working to redeem themselves. And that included him, as much as he still held onto something.
"Mike, we live together- we have to work together, we have to look after each other, I care for you, Mike." Mike almost choked on his food in that moment, the acrobat thumping a closed fist against his chest as he coughed, bits of spit drooling from his lips as his face flushed a gentle red and only seemed to grow redder when you began to rub his back.
"Ya know..." The acrobat began once he had gotten his breath back, "you make me all warm 'nd fuzzy when you say stuff like that." There was that smile, bright as ever as he looked at you, "Be careful before someone catches feelings, or has to rival them." Watching as he set his tray aside, you blinked for a moment before letting out a gentle yell, feeling yourself being dragged back on his bed by a pair of thin but firm arms.
"Stay a bit, I have a lot to tell ya." There was his glowing smile, just for you.
Hey, the name’s Olm. I’m 21+, agender & very bad with blog & stuff, so bear with me. I’ve been hyperfocused on idv for around 5 years now & figured I could post my writing with x reader. I mostly write smut, but I might write other themes. I’m not very expressive so sorry if I seem off.
I speak : Français/English/Español so feel free to use whatever language among these 3 to communicate. Note that I’m still improving my Spanish, so my writing might not be great, but I can read & understand it well.
English is not my native language. I do my best to correct my work, but if you guys see any recuring errors, don’t hesitate to tell me.
It’s a nsfw blog so minors. I've start writing some non smut work so these are fine to interact with, but stay away from the nsfw ones for your safety.
What I do:
I write one-shot of identity v x reader smut (mostly).
Reader is referred to as gender neutral with 2 version (Male anatomy & Female anatomy) because I go in detail with my writings & want to include everyone as best I can.
I wrote for canon & Skins AU.
I’ll make a post where I detail my vision of the manor games were everyone is stuck there (It's here now).
Also I put some mini updates/follow up under my name at the top to show I'm still active.
About Requests (Updated):
I got a couple draft & ideas (a lot honestly), so I won’t take request for now when it come to full OS, but feel free to send ask about small scenarios. Especially rarer characters, like if you want Burke, Keigan, Kreacher or anyone else who is never or rarely written about I will be very happy to do it & if the idea is interesting enough I might turn it into a full OS (no promise though)
I can write for any characters as long that it’s not a child (So no Memory & Robbie). So like I said, go for any character, even if you think you’re the only one who like them, I don’t mind. I actually would love that! Expect a lot of Luchino compared to the others at some points (When I finally have time to write for this lovely reptile as much as I want).
I’m a slow writer (big time) & busy a lot IRL, so my updates will be slow & with no clear schedule. I do this for fun, so I work on it when I feel like it & I time.
In this blog I can write:
Nsfw, yandere, darker themes
I will not write:
Pedophilia, incest, zoophilia, cheating (just personal preference for this one), child reader, character x character (unless it's for a polycule), crossovers.
I will update this page (I have updated this as of AL 2026). It’s my first time doing a writing blog, so I’ll adjust with time (slowly).
You can also find my work on AO3 under the same name.
