Darkiplier, Wilford, The Host, Dave (TEoS), Simon (Iron Lung),
Based on this post, sort of?
CW// my personal headcanons for these characters (He/She/They Dark, He/It Wilford, He/They Simon), probably ooc Dave (only seen the show), spoilers for Iron Lung (post canon but also canon divergent ending)
NOT cross posted anywhere
It was supposed to be a simple joke, something you didn't even expect them to react to.
"Pspsps," the noise leaving you was one people made when calling for a cat, "c'mere boy."
You laugh to yourself, thinking you were the funniest person in the world, not thinking anything more of it.
Until they're turning around and looking right at you, even making their way over and leaning down to see what you need.
Dark has a perplexed look on her face, as if you had insulted his entire being with your little joke. Yet, he's still there, in front of you, waiting for you to do something.
When your hands come up and cup his face, they just stare at you, into your eyes like they were just trying to process what you were doing.
Then he's melting into your hands, his face pressing into your palms and letting his stubble scratch at your skin. Her hands come up to rest on top of your hands, thumbs rubbing on the back of your hand, as he nuzzles into your warmth.
His hair falls over his face, obscuring some of it as she rubs her face against your hands. It makes you think of a cat, rubbing its head onto your hands for pets, so you give in.
A hand runs up her face and into his hair, brushing their bangs up so you can see his face once again. His hand that was on top of it goes to hold the wrist of your hand still caressing her cheek.
While she gives no true indication that they're enjoying this time together, at least you can tell he doesn't hate it. A smile playing on your face as you continue to pet and scratch at their hair.
Wilford is over in a second, smiling as he awaits for something to happen. He's always been one to need things to happen, being bored was not ideal for anyone when it came to it. So you relent, cursing yourself for your stupid little joke.
Your hands are raised and pressing against it's cheeks, pressing them together to give him fish lips. A chuckle comes from him, which is a good sign. His hands rest around your torso, and pull you close. Then he's on his knees in front of you.
You can't comfortably rest your hands on it's cheeks anymore, so you move them up to it's hair, running through the somewhat greasy strands. He's looking up at you, and you can't help but smile down at it, your hands fully running through his hair now.
It smiles up at you before resting his head forward, burying it's face in your torso. So now you're stuck like this, standing uncomfortably with one Wilford Warfstache wrapped around you, practically forcing you to pet him like an eager dog that hasn't felt the love of someone in ages.
Maybe if you had treats, you could get him to do tricks.
The Host is one of the more difficult egos, being unable to tell what he's feeling about 99% of the time unless he verbally says anything. So when he's in front of you after you make your joke, it surprises you.
A chair that wasn't there before is suddenly behind you, and his hands are pressing on your shoulders to get you to sit. You oblige, because what else are you supposed to do, and sit down. He follows suit, cradling you as he sits on your lap.
He's quietly narrating to himself, about how he takes your hands and rests them on his head, how you start carding your hands through the strands of it like it's the most natural thing in the world, how he rests his head on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your body in a hug.
How you're now stuck under him, forced to pet and scratch at his hair, until he sees fit. How your little joke has now cost you hours of affection to him, and that if you make such a joke again, The Host will make the period of time much longer than today.
Oh, and don't be shy to rub his back, The Host would not be opposed at all to the added affections.
Dave is happy to be at your beck and call, a tired smile playing on his face. If he were a dog, he'd be sitting and smiling up at you, tail sweeping across the floor happily.
Suddenly you feel bad for wasting his time with your little joke, he could be resting but instead he's waiting for you to do something because he didn't realize you were messing around.
With a deep breath, you bring up your arms and wrap them around his shoulders, pulling him into you for a hug. He happily accepts, wrapping his arms around your torso and resting his head on your shoulder. The weight of him is comfortable, and it doesn't take much for you to rest your head on his, a hand coming to play with the ends of his hair.
It's by no means perfect, but he doesn't seem to mind the uncomfortable arch in his back, or the ache in his legs from standing. Rather, he enjoys the moment, burying his face in your jacket like it's the most comfortable pillow he's ever felt.
Simon doesn't know what to do with himself, being in such an odd environment. Before he knows it his arm is reaching for you, his hand grabbing onto yours like a lifeline. You called to him, albeit in a weird way, how can he be of assistance.
It's tough to tell them it was a joke when he willingly made his way over, so I stead you rest your free hand in his face and scratch a bit at their stubble.
The touch is overwhelming to Simon, the way your hand rubs up and scratches on his skin burned them like fire, yet it didn't hurt. Butterflies in their stomach threaten to burst out as he rests his head more into your palm. His shoulder even comes up to try and press it more into his skin, since he doesn't have another hand to do so.
It's a comfort to Simon, to know you won't pull away as they show such vulnerability. Your touch makes the pains go away, and if it weren't for the fact his arm was missing they'd probably think it was all a nightmare.
Tears begin to bundle up in his eyes, and your other hand is already detangling from his to rest on his other cheek, thumbs ready to catch the tears as they start to fall. His hand gripping at your sleeve to ground themselves as you reassure him it's alright.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of blood, wound descriptions, implied self-h*rm, awkwardness, just sorta the beginning stages of a crush so it's really cute
Warnings: Actor is an asshole, angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of some events from WKM
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Googleplier
Hug - Google x gn!reader
Warnings: none
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Reader Who Can’t Spell Headcanons - Google x gn!reader
Warnings: none
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First Kiss Headcanons - Google x gn!reader
Warnings: none
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ISWM
You’re Not The Captain AU
One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Ficlet
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You’re Another Engineer AU
One
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Captain’s Log - Ficlet - Addition
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Dogs in Space Headcanons - ISWM Crew + Captain!reader (Slight Captaineer)
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Engineer Mark
Kiss It Better - Engineer Mark x gn!reader
Warnings: minor injury, but mostly just fluff
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Captain, My Captain - Engineer Mark x AFAB!reader
Warnings: period fic, cramps, swearing
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In My Solitude (Songfic) - Engineer Mark x gn!reader
Warnings: loneliness, depression, possible su*c*dal thought (written in red text just in case), death, heavy angst, maybe a little fluffy at the end but like a sad fluffy
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I Missed You - Engineer Mark x transmasc!reader
Warnings: being (unintentionally) misgendered
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#1 Captain - Engineer Mark x gn!reader
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort
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Your Captain - Engineer Mark x gn!reader
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, loss of identity, overworking
I love what you did with that one ask where y/n lived all together with the egos and singing the masochism tango!!! Can you please please please continue it but this time they're singing An Unhealthy Obsession or or Stalkers Tango while they're dusting around the mansion(?)house(?)! I want to know the reactions from these egos (Maybe like Googleplier, Wilford, Actor Mark, or Host- either separate or poly, I want you to go nuts with this idea!! :DDD) headcanons
And to the anon who sent that ask, i want you to know that you have a really very wrinkled big brain!!! <3
Y'all are making me break out my Ego Manor ideas. Oh boy. /pos I'll be using Stalker's Tango for this because that song is a banger.
Google:
Recognizes the lyrics of the song you're singing immediately as it's in his database
Questions you on whether you actually have those feelings for someone
When you deny it, he then questions why you'd sing songs with lyrics that aren't applicable to you, to which you say it's for fun
Confused by that concept, he takes his leave to go research "fun"
Wilford:
One of his favorite songs, let the unhinged man like the unhinged songs
Steals you away from your dusting to pull you into an actual tango, singing along with you, the melody switching between the two of you as music spontaneously starts playing
As he spins you out, he disappears and you're left flustered and confused
Actor:
Also knows this song well, not a favorite, but he likes it
Watches you dust and pretend to tango with someone, not alerting you to his presence yet
Comes up behind you when you stop singing, holding your arms gently before you can do anything
Suggests an encore, perhaps with a bit of audience participation
Host:
Reading a braille book in the corner of the library as you dust, and begins quietly narrating your movements as to not alarm you
Soon the song almost starts to carry you, as if it has a mind of its own and a particular effect on your movements
Host sits back in his chair, smiling as he now narrates at a normal volume, gently pushing you to give him a little performance
When the song ends, he apologizes for taking a little control, but his face tells a different story
━Notes: I have delted this over five times on accident. If there's any typos- too bad so sad I'm never revisiting this. It took so long ;-;
━Song: "Why Am I Anxious" By Tom Cardy
"You know I have the power to fire you right."
Giggles filled with pure mirth came from (Y/n) as they tried not to double over, staring at their unamused boss, whom, was covered head to toe in sticky notes.
Their record for how many post-it notes they could place on one person had been 18. Had been.
Now it was a whopping 23.
As one could clearly tell if they took one look at the man in front of (Y/n).
You know, suprisingly, working at a studio downtown dedicated to airing a local t.v channel wasn't all that entertaining. Especially when someone like (Y/n)—who had mounds of untapped potential according to the company—was stuck wiping the dust off of camera lenses instead of putting their four years at college to use.
What's the use of going to school for a degree in sound design if they didn't even use it.
So they had to find a way to spice up their day to day routine. That didn't involve loitering around the snack table untill the day ended. (The coffee tasted like shit anyways.) What better way than slapping half a pad of post-its on your co-workers.
"If I didn't like you so much I would have kicked you out a long while ago."
(Y/n) paused their laughing fit to swipe dramatically at the corner of their eyes, pretending to wipe a tear away.
"Yeah. But you wouldn't want to get rid of 'one of the most talented workers you've seen in years'. Your words not mine." They clasped their hands together with an overdone grin, looking up at their (still) uninterested boss. He just grumbled at them in response.
Honestly Robert wasn't a bad supervisor. He never yelled at anyone, only tossing the occasional death glare when people needed to be reminded of things. Which was much appreciated concidering his sagging eyebags and sardonic demeanor made it seen like he would and could snap at the smallest thing.
He was pretty nice to (Y/n) anyways. Treated them like a hyper cousin. You know; the one you always saw getting yelled at by their mom at family gatherings because they put a whoopee cushion on someone's seat.
"Listen. I didnt call you in here to talk about, er, this." Robert plucked a blue sticky note off his temple, crumbling the material up into a ball and flicking it across the room.
It landed in the waste bin by his desk perfectly, making (Y/n) widen their eyes with an entertained smile. Robert didn't share their enthusiasm.
"I got an email from HQ this morning. One of the cast members saw you, ah 'performing by the water cooler' the other day so to speak, and wanted to meet you for something in building 2M today. As in, fifteen-minutes-from-right-now today."
(Y/n) saw a flash of remorse pass across his eyes. His tone was gentler now. The kind of gentle tone people use when they tell you your dog was just run over by a steam roller.
They felt their heart drop, face twisting into an unpleasant expression.
It had just been a bit of goofing off. Balancing a cherry on their nose before popping it in their mouth and tying the stem like a magician presenting their next trick—that kind of stuff. They didn't even know a cast member would be there. If so they would have used one of their sick days ahead of time. (Can you blame them. No one wants to be in the same room as their boss when their working.)
"Do you know who saw-"
"No. I don't know. I'm sorry (Y/n)." Robert's lips twitched down into a frown full of sympathy. He reached out to place a hesitant pat on their arm, the gesture holding a lot more meaning than anyone would think.
"If they try to fire you, quit before they can. That's business 101."
Well that certantly made them feel a lot better.
"Thanks. Want me to just hand in my resignation now or-?"
"Shut up (Y/n)." He rolled his eyes. But there was no annoyance behind it.
"You need to get going anyways. And-" He rubbed the back of his neck.
"-good luck."
"Just make sure my headstone looks nice and neat alright?"
"Fuck off."
Offices surrounded by glass should be illegal.
That's all that was going through (Y/n)'s brain as they walked through the winding hallways of headquarters. More specifically building M2.
They could see everything going on in the rooms due to those stupid glass walls, yet nothing at the same time. It was anxiety inducing.
But also what-the-fuck inducing.
A man with a cowboy hat, sunglasses, and atrocious mouth mullet was talking to a group of terrified looking people in one area while waving around what was, hopefully, a fake gun.
In the room next to him was a masked figure in a skin tight black body suit, posing like a superhero while resting their comically large hands by his hips. They almost looked to be roleplaying if anything.
The company didn't talk about this in the introduction video.
What room were they supposed to be in again? The lady at the front desk had said the one with the cream walls right? Or was it gray-
They let their feet lead them down a few more twists and turns while trying not to think about it too much. The contents in the rooms only got more bizarre as they went, albeit less and less people occupying them untill no one was left.
The journey only paused when a room on their right came up, big bold letters above it reading Conference Room.
Hey, that room looked cream colored enough.
(Y/n) pushed the glass door open, head popping in as they scanned the contents of the place. Just as their view from the outside suggested, no one was in there.
"Yeah. Okay. That's great. Invite me up here why don't you. Give me a heart attack why don't you. Make sure not to show up before me why don't you."
Their words were full of nerves, bones in their neck popping as they cracked it anxiously.
Who exactly was the cast again? They knew the general idea that surrounded all of them. The Big Men. The bosses. The people who ran this entire company in their free time.
Wispers about who exactly they were ran rampant on set some days. How one was a demon. The other was an insane pink Willy Wonka. Someone even had a thoery that they were all just fragments of one mans mind, which was met with as many eyerolls and scoffs as one would think.
Honestly (Y/n) had never paid much attention to any of the theories. They were never gonna meet the guys in charge anyways, so why bother? They'd much rather spend their time getting their job done quickly so they could spend the rest of their shift goofing off.
But now, walking around the oval shaped table and eyeing the place skeptically, they wish they had listened in to those conversations.
"Ah! Wonderful! We were wondering when you would show up sugarplum!"
(Y/n) nearly jumped three feet in the air, whirling around to the source of their sudden spike in heart rate.
Right where seconds ago no one had been sitting were six individual men surrounding the brown table.
Everyone looked the same. But different. It was a wonder how they had never really seen any of them before, despite working on set and them being the 'main cast'.
They all were staring straight at (Y/n), who swore their face lost all color at the attention.
Each one was dressed in different attire, ranging vastly from suits to hospital scrubs. A couple of them even looked to be glitching. Or was that buffering? They couldn't tell.
"Well come on! Sit down sit down. There's a chair right next to Bim and Hosty right there!"
Their eyes flickered to the enthusiastic man with messy brown hair, his voice slurred as if he'd been drinking. A pink tinted mustache moved with his words, which they couldn't help but stare at for a moment.
Nonetheless they listened, walking over to the chair he spoke of and slowly sitting down. If they hadnt felt small enough being stared at by six separate pairs of eyes, they certantly did now.
The one—Hosty he had been called?—on their left was a man in a light brown trench coat. He was rather handsome looking, albeit solom. He had a bandage around his head, weaving through his dark tresses and covering his vision. There looked to be dried blood stains where his eyes were, causing them to wonder how he could even see them.
"The Host thinks it's rude to stare."
(Y/n) quickly looked away at their words, choosing instead to eye the other man beside their seat.
Not like they had much of a chance to before a hand was shoved in their face.
"Alright that's enough Bim. You're startling them." Someone said with a sigh.
The hand pointing straight inbetween the area of their eyes slowly reclined, Bims smile still ever present—if a bit forced now.
Who the absolute hell were these people.
"Wilford, why exactly are we all here?"
"Ah, yes. That!"
(Y/n)s eyes furrowed in the slightest, shifting in their seat as they watched the smiling man shuffle around for some papers. His tounge would come out and lick his lips occasionally and they tried not to acknowledge Wilfords little wink when he noticed them looking.
He then slammed a file decorated with stickers down on the table, patting it gently as if he didn't just completely demolish it against the furnitures surface.
"(Y/n) (L/n)! Works in building 4A, mic check crew. Born in Nevada, moved to Ohio to pursue their career in sound design! An adventurous little thing."
"We know Wilford. I recal reading the report on their interview. A very interesting one." A very monotone voice said, before screaming.
(Y/n)s eyes widened as a red and blue verson of the person across from them split in the air, howling. They looked to be in the worst pain imaginable. It was enough to make (Y/n) forget about the mention of their rather embarassing interview. (Let's just say the janitor had to stay overnight that day)
And then the figures were gone.
"Host notices (Y/n) jump. He wishes tell them that they were not imagining that. It is simply Dark becoming a bit aggitated."
Alright. So that made no sense. Perfect.
How to deal with this. Avoid eye contact? No they were already doing that. Music? Earbuds were in the car damnit. Oh-
Humor.
"So, is this gonna be done by my lunch break, because I have some tofu in the fridge I really can't let sit too long. Last time that happened I had to quarantine for a few months and oh boy-"
Their words faded the more they talked, nerves increasing by the moment.
Alright so no jokes. Tough crowd.
"Are you going to fire me? Becuase if so I quit first."
That made Wiford let out a hearty laugh, a few others joining in with small chuckled. Even the monochrome ones lips tilted up slightly, his expression having been stony untill now.
"Fire you? Why of course not! On the contrary sugar! Here, have some candy."
Before (Y/n) could say anything in retaliation a lollipop was shoved forcefully in their mouth. They gagged on it slightly, muffling out a 'hey!' as the sweet flavor coated their tounge.
Wilford just winked.
Host quietly narrated their flushed face with a slight tilt of his head.
They worked the treat around with their tounge, successfully muted as Wilford continued to go on a rant, pacing around the room and its inhabitants. Tossing out reasons why he had called them all up here with the occasional off topic discussion.
"-ut (Y/n) we were wondering if you'd like to come work in our building! On Warfstashe Tonight to be specific." He finally finished, filling with his suspenders and leaning down to look them in the eye with half closed lids.
He was so close, they could have stuck him in the eye with the end of their lollipop stick—and honestly was thinking about it just to see what would happen. So thank god for Host.
"The Host feels a bit neglected when Wilford fails to mention his podcast."
"Yeah, what The Host said. I'm Bim Trimmer! The Bim Trimmer! I need a mic guy too for my show about me! Bim!"
"They could help me with my diagnosis'. It's always more fun to tell people that their dying with an audience."
"I-I have no-o use f-for a us-seless huma-an."
Fuck you too blue shirt guy.
"Settle now." The dark man said again. Wait, dark? Dark.
(Y/n) thought someone had called him that. Strange name. However, it fit them.
"Wilford I recommend you stop playing with this poor human and get on with it. We can all figure out a schedule later. We've already confused them enough."
"You're no fun Darky." Wilford pouted, snatching the lollipop right out of (Y/n)'s mouth and placing it in his own. He sighed as he walked away, licking it at his leisure.
They blinked at the unsanitary action.
"But fiiiiine. Meeting dismissed. That means you too bubblegum. I can escort you out to your car if you'd like."
The pinkette was smiling at them innocently while twirling the spit coated treat around in his hand. But with the way Wilford looked them up and down they felt like he wanted to do more than just escort them to their car.
By now most of the other members at the table had gotten up to leave, shuffling around and making small talk amongst themselves. Not many spared an extra glance at (Y/n). Which they were thankful for. Their head was already spinning a little.
"Uh, no thanks Wilford. I'll just go back to my erm, building now." They declined his offer as politely as possible.
"You have some important tofu waiting for you if I'm not mistaken." Dark smoothed down his suit as he stood up, red and blue iris' boring into (Y/n)s own as he spoke. They had forgotten he was even there, which unnerved them a little. Silent guy.
"Uh, yes. Yes. That's it. Mhm yes totally. Tofu. I'll go get that and then I'll just- see what's left to do around here." (Y/n) stuffed their hands into their pockets, already starting to inch towards the door stiffly.
Wilford whined once or twice. But the glass door slammed in his face before any real words could make it out of his mouth, (Y/n)s pace increasing as they sped walked away with eyes as big as dinner plates.
They mentally thanked Dark for an opportunity out of there. They had never had trouble socializing in any sort of way, but in that room being offered so many promotions—could they even be called promotions if you're just thrust into the job—it felt more like they were being cooed and ogled at by a bunch of higher beings. Mainly Wilford.
But- whatever. They would do their research. The deranged Willy Wonka theory didn't seem too crazy anymore.
All my stuff in gender neutral, unless explicitly stated otherwise! All Markip**er egos. Updated: 27/02-2024
^^ = Lime
*** = Lemon
Strike through means I do not recommend reading that fic, but it’s still there
Characters: Actor, Darkiplier, Damien, Engineer, E-plier, Eric Derekson, Googleplier, Heehoo, The Host, Illinois, Murdock (Murderplier/Killer Mark) Porniplier, Wilford Warfstache, Yancy, Yandere. (And some extra Antisepticeye)
Normal fic count: 77
Kinktober 2022/23, fic count: 23
All my fics
Actor
Prompt: “Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”/“Well, since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.” ***
Prompt: Reader topping Actor and (consensually) wrecking his shit/Reader speaking French and turning an ego on ***
Prompt: Reader flirting with Google and Actor getting jealous and possessive ***
Fic: Damien x reader x Actor where Damien is in the middle for once ***
Prompt: Vampire reader with Actor, Darkiplier, & Wilford ***
Darkiplier
Prompt: “Darling, your heart is too pure for me.” ^^
Prompt: “I don’t care if you think you look like godzilla when you wake up, you’re my beautiful godzilla.” ^^
Prompt: “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.” ***
Prompt: “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”/“You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.”/“You look good all soaking wet.” /“Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.” ***
Prompt: “Did I say you could stop?” ***
Prompt: “You take my fingers so well don’t you?”/“Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”/“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”/“Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.” ***
Prompt: “You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.”/“Pull my hair!” ***
Prompt: Voyeurism kink/“I want you to watch me, first. Then you can have me.“ *** (AFAB reader)
Prompt: Winged reader that melts into subspace when their wings are touched ***
Prompt: Dark and Anti tries to get with you, but are always interrupted by the other, ends with a fight and an angry three way ***
Prompt: Dark with a naturally submissive s/o that has a praise kink to end all praise kinks, and he starts praising them in public ***
Prompt: “If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”/“I love the sounds you make when you come undone.”/“Say my name over and over again and, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it. I want the whole neighborhood to know who’s making you feel good.” ***
Prompt: “You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.”/ “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”/“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” ***
Fic: Darkiplier in a white suit and a fuck machine ***
Prompt: Darkiplier in lingerie ***
Prompt: “Can you stop sending me nudes, I’m at work.” “That excuse never stopped you when I was working.” “Can you blame me? I bought lace undies, what was I supposed to do?” ^^
Prompt: Dark consensually influencing readers thoughts and actions with the lines “Be a god pet and do what I tell you” & “Open your mouth.” ***
Prompt: You get a little possessive over Dark and Anti and have to mark them ***
Prompt: Vampire reader with Actor, Darkiplier, & Wilford ***
Fic: Birthday drabble with reader in a bow ^^
Prompt: Dark going down on afab reader *** (afab reader)
Fic: Dark and tentacles. That’s it. ***
Fic: This time reader is the one with tentacles **
Fic: Dark and Murdock shares you (afab reader) ***
Fic: Dark is asleep and you should let him, but you can’t help yourself *** (amab reader)
Damien
Fic: Damien x reader x Actor where Damien is in the middle for once ***
Prompt: Giving Damien a handjob ***
Engineer
Fic: The Captain fucks Engineer against a wall *** (amab reader)
Prompt: “Stop talking and take off your clothes.” “Why would you say that! I tried so hard to make you happy and now you’re- Your hands are distracting me.” ***
E-plier
Fic: You’re his boyfriend and walk in on a livestream, which leaves him distracted and horny *** (male reader)
Eric Derekson
Prompt: “Don’t hesitate, just kiss me.” ^^
Prompt: “Are you wearing my shirt?”/“Tell me what you like.”/“Did you dress up just for me?” ***
Prompt: Eric and a transwoman reader in an established relationship, reader offers him a blowjob for the first time (trans female reader) ***
Prompt: Eric fucking transwoman readers tits with “If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”/“You deserve a reward for being so good today, what would you like it to be?”/“Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.” *** (Trans female reader)
Prompt: “You have no idea what you do to me“ ^^
Prompt: Eric and dirty talk *** (Male reader)
Googleplier
Prompt: Google squad showing reader how much better they are at pleasing them than any other weak human ***
Prompt: Google and dry humping *** amab reader
Prompt: “I can’t wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin” + possessive Google *** (male reader)
Heehoo
Prompt: Consensual hunter/prey kink with Heehoo ***
Prompt: Reader accidentally stumbling onto Heehoo while camping ***
The Host
Prompt: “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” ^^
Prompt: Male Reader topping Host *** (Male reader)
Prompt: “I only want to please you.”/“Well, since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.”/“You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”/“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” ***
Illinois
Drabble: Illinois and someone with fangs ***
Fic: One tent instead of one bed ***
Prompt: Illinois and reader with an aphrodisiac ***
Fic: Illinois wanders into naga reader’s cave looking for treasure (male reader) ***
Fic: Illinois and almost skinny dipping ***
Murdock (Murderiplier/Killer Mark)
Fic: Dark and Murdock shares you (afab reader) ***
Fic: Waking up with curled around Murdock’s back (amab reader) ***
Fic: Murdock having some fun with Yancy when you come home (amab reader) ***
Prompt: “I think we need to talk about the fact that I’m in love with you and also that I’m pregnant.” ^^ (Female reader)
Prompt: “I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, I want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me.” ***
Prompt: “Come here, baby, let Mommy/Daddy take care of you.”/“Aww, is my little princess/prince getting shy?”/“It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs.” *** (Female reader)
Fic: Wilford giving reader’s wings a massage *** (Male reader)
Fic: Dark walks in on Wilford and winged reader *** (Male reader)
Prompt: Reader is a little chubby and kinda insecure, Wilford is sweet and appreciative *** (Female reader)
Fic: Somnophilia with Wilford ***
Prompt: Wilford with bratty reader that gets slaps as punishment ***
Prompt: “ Do you like it when I touch you like that?” / “ Okay.. This is new. ” / “ What a pretty sight. ” / “ Good girl. ” *** (Female reader)
Prompt: Just some desperate sex with Wilford ***
Prompt: Vampire reader with Actor, Darkiplier, & Wilford ***
Prompt: Wilford offering Captain some stress relief ***
Yancy
Fic: Visitation day ;) ***
Prompt: “Aww, is my little princess/prince getting shy?”/“Come here, baby, let Mommy/Daddy take care of you.” *** (Uses the nickname princess, but gender neutral :) )
Prompt: “Wanna see what I’m wearing underneath all this?”/“These walls are pretty thick, which means you and I can be as loud as we want.” *** (Female reader)
Prompts: “Why do you keep looking at me?” “Oh, you only just caught on? Why do you think I can’t keep my eyes off of you?” / shut up and kiss me already with Yancy / I’ve wanted this for so long with Yancy ^^
Prompts: Stolen handcuffs + “ Okay.. This is new. ” / “I read your diary“ ***
Fic: Yancy gets a new tattoo *** amab reader
Fic: Petplay with puppy Yancy and dom reader *** amab reader
Prompt: Submissive and a little touch starved Yancy ***
Yandereplier
Prompt: Reader being tired of being a bottom with “Touch yourself for me.”/“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” ***
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Combined with an idea that I had a while back that fit the prompt well, thank you anon for blowing life back into that! Warning for blood and some gore. (Hosts has no eyes under his face cloth)
Wordcount: 1.2k+
The Host’s narration was almost always constant, and over time you had come to appreciate his voice as you’ve grown to be friends. Eventually it even evolves into teetering on the edge of something more.
He’s a strange man (or whatever he is) for sure, but you enjoy his company.
You know not many do, and that he trusts even fewer, so you don’t want to squander that in any way.
Which is why, one day when you notice there is more blood than normal coming from the cloth tied around his face, you’re cautious to approach him about it. (It surely says something about you that you even notice.)
You find him in the kitchen, waiting for the water kettle to boil, a cup with a teabag in it on the counter in front of him. You see him wipe at his chin with a blue handkerchief, a few drops of blood getting away from it and staining his hand.
“Host?”
“The Host turns around to indicate that he has heard you, and asks what?”
“You okay?” You notice that his cloth is almost soaked through, and that there is already a new streak of blood going down his left cheek.
“The Host explains it has been a rough couple of weeks, but that he is fine.”
“Don’t lie, I know you don’t bleed this much normally.” Host actually startles a little at that, twitching for a brief second.
“The Host did not know you knew that.” He wipes at his face again, narrating still as you watch the motion.
“I care for you, of course I notice.” You let the words linger, but Host doesn’t say anything directly to you, instead narrating that the kettle is done, but that it goes ignored by you both. “Can I help in any way?”
“The Host frowns, before saying that there is, but he does not know if you will be able to do it.”
“Please, Host, just let me help you.”
“The Host sighs, then explains that he needs to change out the cloth that covers his face, as the one he is currently wearing is not doing its intended purpose.” Your answer is quick, with no hesitation.
“I can do that.” The Host’s narration stops for the briefest of seconds, one of the few ways you have learnt he shows surprise.
“The Host does still not quite believe you, but he abandons his tea to take you up on that offer.” He leaves the kitchen and you follow.
He takes you to his bedroom, and then to his en suite bathroom. It’s nothing big, just a shower and toilet on one side, and a sink with a drawers below and a mirror above it on the opposite wall. You wonder why a man that can’t see has a mirror, but you suspect that the bathroom was just built like that originally.
You stay in the doorway while he rummages around in the drawers, pulling out a new cloth, some towels, and wet wipes. He places it on the counter before turning towards you.
“The Host explains that the towels are to wipe away most of the blood, and then it is best to go over with the wet wipes. The Host also expresses gratitude. The Host says this is because sometimes he will accidentally poke at sensitive areas with the wet wipe when he does this himself, and that is not a pleasant sensation.”
You frown, even though you don’t know yet what hides under his face cloth, you can guess, and it sounds right that that would hurt.
Host keeps narrating as he sits himself down on the toilet lid with a towel in his lap.
He reaches up behind his head to untie the knot that keeps the cloth in it’s place, keeping his face tilted slightly forward. He struggles with it for a few seconds, and you wonder briefly about how often he normally changes it.
Finally getting the cloth undone, he lets it fall in his lap, but he keep his head down. You can’t fully see hat was hidden by the cloth like this, but you can when you step closer and til his head up with a hand under his chin.
Where his eyes should be there are just bloody holes.
It’s not only that, there is some fully black darkness making it look like you’re seeing inside a black void, but mostly it is red and irritated flesh, blood seeping out from it.
Perhaps you should be scared or terrified of what you see, but if anything, you only feel sorry for what pain it must cause Host.
You briefly turn around to get a towel, and start wiping over his chin and cheeks, soaking up as much blood as you can. You keep your hand on Host chin, and can feel his mouth move as he keeps narrating, voice so low that you can barely hear it.
It’s the quietest you have heard him, and you wonder why that is.
You also wonder how he lost his eyes (or perhaps he never had any in the first place?), but you do not want to pry, so you stay silent as you switch over to cleaning with the wet wipes.
“The Host knows you want to ask about his eyes.” His voice is clear, more of a normal volume, but he sounds tired. You hum, tilting his head so you can catch a drop of blood that almost makes it to his ear.
“I can’t help that I’m curious.” You glance at the holes in his face. “But I won’t.”
“The Host is grateful for that.” He sits quietly for a few seconds, not even narrating before he addresses you again. “The Host is also surprised that you are doing this, that you haven’t run away in disgust.” You shrug, trying to see if there is any more blood to clean up before you put on a new cloth.
“I guess I’ve never really been the squeamish type.” You pick up the clean cloth from the counter, holding it up in front of him. “May I?”
“The Host says yes, tilting his head forward so you can easily tie it behind his head.” You do just that, slipping it over his face, once more covering the holes in his face, being careful to not tie the cloth too tight or too loose. You tug lightly on it to test how it fits, and Host gently touches your wrist.
“The Hosts says it is fine, and thanks you for helping him.”
“Anytime.” You lean forward and plant a chaste kiss on his forehead. The Host chuckles as he stands up, putting the towel and the old stained cloth on the counter.
“The Host thinks you are a strange one. Not many people are able to see the true look of the Host’s face, and no one has ever kissed it afterwards.”
“Well, like I said, I’m not really squeamish. Besides, that was not a real kiss.”
“The Host hears the teasing tone of your voice. Was it not, he asks.” You grin, taking his chin in your hand once more.
“No, but this is.” You lean forward to capture his lips with yours.
Takes place during ISWM 2, they’re going through the different timelines and instead of landing in the cabin and meeting the narrator, they meet The Host.
Could be completely fluffy or angst/comfort, your choice!
I miss my boy <\3
Have a lovely day :]
"However, the Captain bizarrely started gesturing up towards the sky in a very unstealthy manner."
"What the hell?" You whispered as your arm was flailing about, drawing you out from behind the bush as you tried to stay hidden.
It's like your body had a mind of its own, but you knew what was really going on.
That damn Narrator.
He was starting to genuinely piss you off, especially back on the ship where he started doing whatever he wanted to you and those around you. At one point he tried making two people fight each other, so they became acutely aware of this “higher being” much like you did.
You just wanted to get back to your own timeline and fix things..why did he feel the need to complicate shit and make your life even more of a living hell?
Now because of his stupid narrating, your cover was blown and you were on the run from this feral Mark--apparently called Heehoo in this universe.
“Well, it seems to be the end for our intrepid Captain-”
“But with luck, they managed to put enough distance between themselves and Heehoo. Then a sudden noise from the woods startles him into fleeing.”
In confusion you slowed down as you heard a much softer-sounding voice; similar to Mark’s but not quite him. Looking back, you saw that Heehoo had fled, spooked by a loud rustle in the bushes.
You wondered who saved you, though...you knew only one other person who spoke in narrations.
“What?! No! You can’t do that! Who the hell are you?!” The Narrator demanded.
“The one who will be taking over the story from here on out. Goodbye, Dr. Mills.”
“Wait!! NO-!!”
You flinched slightly as you heard what sounded like a bat striking something, followed by a heavy thump against an unseen floor. Then you heard the bat being tossed aside and a sigh. “Now then..the warp crystal glows brightly in the night, sending the Captain to a familiar place that may jog their memory.”
Raising your hand, you saw the crystal glowing brighter than ever before you were whisked away through another wormhole, landing in...
A library?
You looked around, removing your helmet as you breathed in the scents of old wood and paper, sighing deeply. This certainly felt familiar.
“The Host is relieved to see the Cap--[y/n] has made it in one piece.”
Blinking, you turned around to see a certain man in a tan trenchcoat, illuminated by a dim orange lamp light. The gauze wrapped around his eyes was clean, and the smile on his face was warm. You noticed he had bandages around his hands, too, though that didn’t stop you from going over and taking them into yours.
“Host!” You grinned. “God, you don’t know how glad I am to see you.”
“..h-he considers the feeling mutual.” He seemed a bit flustered by the fact you were holding his hands, as he cleared his throat.
You realized his discomfort and let go, chuckling awkwardly. “Sorry. It’s just..it’s been one crazy trip after another. Thanks for getting rid of that control freak.”
“[Y/n] has nothing to fear. He was a..poor excuse of a narrator, and an even worse author.” He shook his head. “But with the threat of him gone, [y/n] believed they deserved a break from their journey across timelines.”
“Damn right I do.” Sighing, you slumped into one of the couches, leaning back and closing your eyes for a bit, trying to relax.
Once you felt a little bit calmer, you looked back at Host, who was sitting nearby and reading something in braille. “Say, I don’t suppose you can “narrate” Mark into shutting down the warp core...or “narrate” him into this timeline, can you?”
“The Host has a notion that attempting to influence events in other realities may break the universe further, so he abstains from doing so. He already took a risk bringing [y/n] here.”
“...of course, that’d be too easy-”
“However, he may have found something that can assist [y/n] in their quest.” Closing the book, he stood up. “And so they follow him to his studio.”
Feeling your legs move on their own, you followed him to a room that held his radio broadcasting equipment. You remember him taking up this profession after he had gone blind--since, of course, he couldn’t write as an author anymore. But he did make great podcasts.
He picked up a small leather book on the desk, handing it to you. “The Narrator’s book.”
“He was..using a book?” After taking it, you flipped through a few pages, eyes widening as you read the most recent one about your arm flailing and other unusual actions you’ve taken, followed by illegible scribbles (assuming they’re from the Narrator’s struggle with Host).
You couldn’t believe it. That asshat was controlling your every thought and move with writings.
You noticed a small blood stain in the corner, but you didn’t care. Whatever the Host did to him was much deserved.
“Son of a bitch. All this time, he was in another world ripping away my free will-!!!”
Suddenly you came to a realization as you gazed at Host. "Wait...he was able to do all of this no matter what world I was in.”
“Indeed, that book is a powerful interdimensional tool, greater than the Host’s own abilities, even. And the quill in his possession is-”
“That’s it! I can use this to find Mark!” You beamed, going over to take the quill from his hand. “I’m gonna need that....Host?” Blinking, you noticed how sad he appeared as he moved it just out of your reach, taking a step back.
“Does [y/n] truly wish to leave so soon?”
Your smile faltered. Of course you didn’t wanna leave him already, though you knew you had to get going. Or else the warp crystal itself would drag you back into the wormhole and put you god-knows-where.
“..I’d hate to but..I-I made a huge mistake. You know that, Host. I have to find Mark and fix this. The longer I wait around, the worse everything’s gonna get. Once this is over I’ll come find you."
You put your hand out, hoping he believed you. “I promise we’ll have all the time in the world to catch up...but first I gotta save all the worlds.”
After a moment more of hesitation, he finally relented and handed over the quill. “The Host understands. However, he warns [y/n] to write clearly and not be so ambiguous, as there could be consequences that even he cannot foresee.”
“...I just have to breathe and there’s consequences." Rolling your eyes, you sat down in the chair and opened the book to a new page, writing: “The Captain finds Mark, the head engineer of the Invincible II.”
“There. Can’t get anymore specific than that.”
“So it is written. The Host bids [y/n] farewell and wishes them luck on their journey.”
“Thank y-”
All of the sudden a wormhole opened beneath your feet, dragging you down into it as you cursed rather loudly in annoyance.
“Oh WHAT THE FU-”
The Host watched as it closed, finding the Narrator’s book and quill left in-place of where you once stood. He knelt down and picked them up, sighing somberly.
Once again he was all alone.
But he enjoyed your company. He hopes to see you again soon.
Strong hands tighten their hold on your waist, urging you even closer. A hot mouth envelopes one of your nipples and you cry out.
“Host!” You gasp, burying a hand in his dark hair and holding him against you.
You can feel his smug smirk against your chest, but can’t bring yourself to care enough to do anything about it with how good his tongue feels, laving over your sensitive bud.
Planting your hands on his shoulders, you use the grip as leverage to grind down against him, feeling the hardness beneath you.
Host groans, pulling off you to press his forehead to your sternum.
“The Host thinks he could spend days like this, exploring your body with his mouth, making you sing for him.”
“I’m sure you could, I, on the other hand, am pretty sure I’m going to combust if you don’t fuck me soon.”
He chuckles, tracing his lips over your collarbones. “Relax, little songbird, there is nowhere we need to be. Let the Host enjoy you. Let him make you feel good.”
Host ducks down, taking your nipple into his mouth once again. The tip of his tongue traces over it before you feel his teeth scrape deliciously across your skin. You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes and melting into his touch.
Suddenly, the gentle tug of his teeth turns into a harsh bite. You moan and arch your back, pressing further into his mouth.
One of his hands slides up your back and to the crown of your head where he grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs hard, forcing you to bare your neck to him. Host trails kisses up the column of your throat, stopping occasionally to nip your skin.
“W-What happened to relaxing?” You whimper when he bucks his hips up against you.
“There is more than one way to relax, songbird, and the Host thinks we have time to try out several of them. If you’re up to the challenge.”
