#Worm x reader

[cryptid-catnip]

Yandere!Taylor Hebert x Reader (A, B and C)

TWs: Mentions of violence, general yandere behaviour

Author's note: Sorry this was short, I was sick while writing this

A is for… Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Taylor would be pretty affectionate as people go, wanting to be close to you. She’s been through a lot and you make it better just by being there. Please don’t leave her. She’s been through so much already.

B is for… Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Saying that Taylor Hebert is not averse to violence is a massive understatement. I mean, this is Skitter. You know what she’s capable of, and she’s perfectly willing to dispose of anyone who threatens your relationship.

C is for… Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Although Taylor is both able and willing to commit atrocities, she would never direct any cruelty to you. Her reputation very much procedes her, but she would be very kind to you. She would make her love for you apparent at every opportunity. You’re the only thing keeping her going. She can’t hurt you.

[orbitganymede]

18+, MDNI

asking ghost out on a date is…odd to say the least. utterly bold and fearless of you if someone was to ask other people on base, you’re big balled they say. the masked assassin had given a gruff “no”, clearly uninterested as he turned away and lit a cigarette as if you’re nothing but a nuisance. you’d shrugged your shoulders and went on with your day, what could you do? you’d tried.

but now ghost is interested, you’re the first person that’s approached him, usually he’d have to find hookups at bars or he’d have to resort to making his sergeants do their unofficial duty of stress relief. he refuses to leave you alone a mere week after you asked him. opting to sit next to you in the mess instead of haunting his usual corner, not that he’d make conversation. this went on for a few days before he decided to be the bold one and placed his obscenely large hand on your thigh. you’re confused to say the least, he’d denied your invitation to dinner, and honestly you’d prefaced it in a way that could have been taken as just the bedroom. but here he is hand so close to your crotch that the gesture couldn’t possibly mean anything but his want to try you out. you let it slide, let him fondle you, what bad could come from letting this mountain of a man take you back to his and give you a few, hopefully earth shattering, orgasms?

That’s how you end up with your ass in the air, stretched impossibly wide around his cock, little ah ah ahs falling from your lips, with him telling you to shut up, take it, you asked for it, pet. and after, when you’re trying to steady your breathing, clenching sporadically around nothing but his warm spend inside you, he’s on his phone, googling how quickly a marriage license can be drawn up.

[hellfire--cult]

+18 - Just something i would do for boyfriend!eddie

thinking about how Eddie is out with his friends, while you're out with Nancy and Robin, and he gets a text message from you. His eyes bulge out of his skull when he reads you want a dick Pic. In the middle of the day.

In your six months of relationship, there was never a need for one. Spicy pics were not sent to one another because you basically visited eachother daily, so you could just have the real deal. He sends back a message,

Eddie: "Aren't u with nance and robs?"

You: "its for me, i just want a pic. nance has dick pics of jonathan and i don't have a single sexy pic of yours!"

Your request was weird as fuck... but Eddie adored you. He can interrogate you later on. So he goes to Gareth's bathroom, and strokes himself a bit for the head to become slightly red, and his shaft to harden. He wasn't going to send a soft dick pic, it wasn't flattering at all.

He pressed send and he waited, the only thing he received was a 'Thx :)' from you. He hummed in question, following you up with 'i'll c u later?' which you replied, 'absolutely baby'.

When he went to your apartment, he was ready to ask a bunch of questions, but you shut him up by sitting on the couch, giving him a glass of wine. He noticed the color on your lips, probably buying makeup with Nancy today you just decided to try a new lipstick.

But then you kissed him, and the glasses of wine were left on the coffee table as you ravished his tongue with yours. He wondered what had gotten into you, but before he could ask, you were getting on your knees in between his legs while he sat on the couch.

"What?" His eyes widened when you reapplied the lipstick on your lips, taking the small tube out of your back pocket, and popping your lips at him with a playful glint in your eyes. He wasn't going to complain, this not being the first time you went straight for what you wanted and he fucking loved it. He loved when you just decided to use him after doing the most homely of things, or just randomly during the day.

So he helped taking off his jeans, then his boxers. You spat on your hand and you wrapped around his dick, and he was already in heaven as he threw his head back, closing his eyes as he delighted himself into your touch. You got him hard, super hard, and then, you called out to him in a sweet, yet mischievous voice.

"Eddie~" You called and he groaned as he looked down at you, his cock hard resting on your cheek and then you gave him a soft smack of your lips on the tip of--

Oh.

"You fucking minx..." He chuckled as he realized what you had done, how you tricked him earlier in the day, a giggle escaping your lips.

"It's a good match, isn't it?" He couldn't even respond as your lips wrapped around the head, those fucking lips that wore lipstick in the color of the tip of his cock. You matched the redness, the slight pinkish tone of it, and it looked so good on you... it looked so good to see it wrapped around his shaft as you bobbed your head up and down.

And he couldn't wait to smudge it away.

[degenerateworm]

Could i request some Yandere Captain curly headcanons? Pre and post crash if you'd be willing :3.

I would love to, anon! Let's see here...

---

Captain Curly is a kind man. Constantly thinking of others, how to help them and how to make them happy. A real people pleaser.

So it makes sense when you join the crew of the Tulpar that he would be friendly and welcoming to someone as new to ship life as you!

Curly gives you that kind smile that crinkles his eyes, and you almost instantly trust him. How could you not, when he's your new captain? And while he's being so understanding of your knowledge, or lack thereof, of crew life?

He'll try to worm his way into your mind, doing whatever he can to help you feel comfortable.

You need an extra pillow because the Pony Express beds are too uncomfortable? Here, take his! He doesn't use it much anyway.

Having a hard time adapting to the sub par food that the Tulpar can provide? You'll find a bag of sweeteners tucked under your covers next time you go to bed. Shhh, nobody else needs to know!

Curly does all of this to get into your heart, to make you comfortable around him. Don't get him wrong, he wants to do these things regardless! But there is a rather big ulterior motive; getting to you.

---

Curly asks to take your wellness check tests, and Anya teases a little that he might have a crush on you. She doesn't know the half of it!

You make his heart pound when you're near, his face quickly flushing and an easy smile reaching the corners of his lips.

He finds that he doesn't mind the tedious labour while you're around, doesn't mind that he's rather stuck on the top rung of this ladder he's found himself on.

As long as Curly can have you by his side, he feels he could go through anything and he could get out the other end.

---

Of course, this leads him to commit rather unsavoury activities.

Curly likes to wake up at awful times in the morning, half of them deliberate and half of them accidental from the nightmares he suffers from.

He makes his way to your dorm, slipping through the door easily due to the lack of locks.

Curly doesn't do anything bad in his mind. He just sits by your bed, sometimes on it, his hand resting on your cheek, shoulder, or whatever skin he can feel.

You're so warm, and soft. You're here, beside him. It's grounding.

Curly likes to watch you sleep, feel the life in your body. It comforts him a lot, and soon he has to retreat back to his dorm due to his eyelids closing from sleepiness.

He doesn't mind when you interact with the others, but he becomes quite prickly and stern when you talk with Swansea or Jimmy, or even Daisuke.

Quickly steering you away or interrupting your conversation to give you a task to focus on.

It's not that he doesn't want you to talk to him, their his friends too! He just... Gets this awful feeling in his gut, whenever you smile or laugh with them instead of him.

---

Curly despises the feelings of jealousy and anger that rise inside of him when you interact with others positively.

He's a slightly lucid yandere, and realises that these feelings are unhealthy if he forces them upon you.

So that's why he covers it up with sweetness and kindness, to practically love bomb you into preferring his company over others.

If you choose him, he won't have to be awful to the others, right? Curly would hate for them to feel bad.

But he'd hate to lose you worse.

---

Thanks anon! I only did pre crash Curly for this one, because I feel like both would be a bit too much writing for me right now. You can ask for post crash Curly though, if this hasn't satisfied you! And thanks again!

[tsuutarr]

Yandere! Love God x Reader

Soulmates do not always meet in every lifetime. Sometimes, a person may become a bird that soars the skies while their soulmate becomes a fish that swims the depths of the sea. Other times, a person may become a little flower in a field while their soulmate becomes a large cactus in a desert. More often than not, the stars must align for soulmates to meet in a single lifetime.

You, however, are the exception. You will meet your soulmate in every lifetime for as long as your soul exists.

After all, your soulmate is the God of Love, an immortal being that ensures that you will meet in every single lifetime. 

It doesn’t matter if you’re a little plant, an animal, or a human – he’ll always find you and love you. When you’re not there by his side, he patiently waits for the glow of your soul to return to the mortal realm.

It’s become a pattern of his, a habit. When you leave his side due to your life’s candle burning out, his world will be drowned in grayscale and monotony. He goes about his days without much care for anything, his duty taking the forefront of his mind.

But when you reincarnate, your soul colors his world with his love for you, brightening up his days. To him, it doesn’t matter what you are, just that you are – that you exist. Your existence takes the forefront of his mind, his body, his soul. He devotes everything to you for as long as he can, eager to dye you in his colors in every one of your lifetimes.

It doesn’t matter that you don’t remember him – he’ll remember for the both of you, filling pages and pages with his memories of you. It doesn’t matter that he has to start all over again in every single lifetime – he’ll gladly fill you with his love for you over and over again. Because, to him, you go beyond just being his world – you’re his universe.

So, for most people, the stars must align for soulmates to meet in a single lifetime. But for you, your soulmate forces the stars to collide so that he can draw your constellation next to his again and again for the rest of eternity. 

[myfamilycrestisthedemonofdeath]

I'm thinking of how the 141 men react to you cracking your joints, either purposefully in Price's case, or accidentally on the others. Suggestive towards the end , MDNI

~~~

Like with John, you do that trend where you put pretzel sticks inside your mouth and ask him to pop your back and then bite down into the pretzels as you act limp. He'll immediately pick you up and start rushing you out of the door to bring you to an ER, panic evident in his face, jaw clenched, but his eyes are focused. He looks at you sternly when you explain to him what happened before bringing you back inside the room, still in his arms, and you can still feel his heart racing, muscles still tense but calming down as you soothe him, feeling bad about your prank.

You're laying on your stomach on the floor in Simon's case, just being in the way of where he wants to move, maybe with various objects around you as you are occupied with your phone. He'll ask you to relocate your activities, but you refuse to get up, and so he warns he'll just walk over you. He nudges your side with his foot, and when you just grunt at him, he places his foot on your lower back and exerts slight pressure, eliciting a groan from you until you both hear a loud pop from your back. He'll drop immediately to his knees, not minding if some of your stuff is digging into his legs as he worriedly checks on you, checking multiple times that he didn't hurt you. You just tell him how good that felt as you lay limply, assuring him that you are okay, that was a good pop. He'll then carefully pick you up and move you to your bed even with you protesting, and then comes back with all your stuff and rearranging them around you.

Maybe in Johnny's case, you two are sparring, he's got you in between him and the ground mat. Both of you sweaty as he tries to subdue you while you are doing your best to fight him off. He gets you into a headlock with his (strong, meaty) biceps, and you twist your head a little. Both of you froze as you hear your neck joints pop, and he quickly loosens his hold on you, cradling your neck with utmost gentleness, worriedly asking if you are okay and if you can still feel your limbs. He'll lay you down gently and refuse to let you get up until you assure him multiple times that your neck just popped, it didn't hurt and you are fine. He'll beam his worried blue eyes over you and refuse to continue sparring, opting to just hug you protectively into his chest after, leaving you with no choice but to be sticky with both of your sweat cooling off.

Or you are making out with Kyle, his big, warm hands roaming over your body, your curves, as you grab at his slender neck, both consumed in fiery passion. You gently push him off you, away from the wall where you both heatedly started when your simmering gazes and coy words weren't enough to dampen the heat in between, and you guide him towards the sofa, him falling back on it with your nudge, his brown eyes roaming over you appreciatively. You slot your lips with him again, trying to clamber over and straddle him, when you hear not just one but both of your knees pop as you try to settle. He pries his mouth off you urgently, moving you to relieve pressure off your knees by sitting you sideways in his lap, inspecting and checking over as you laughingly told him it was just your joints cracking. Oh you best believe he will be the only one on his knees when he picks you up and brings you to your bedroom.

~~~

Power is out in my house since last night due to thunderstorm, which is apparently when my creative juices start flowing. I'm glad I'm a prepper who has a powerbank for my phone as well as a battery-powered fan, a bunch of flashlights, and a hand-crank emergency radio/flashlight/charger

[3amfanfiction]

Lieutenant MacTavish confiscated your suggestive, racy photo when your then-boyfriend was waving it around, showing all his army buddies. If he then studied your picture and used it as wanking material for the next year, complete with a few domestic fantasies, that was nobody's business but his own; he wasn't hurting anyone. The picture was tucked away in a drawer, completely forgotten about until the day he came back from deployment as a captain with a nasty bullet graze and spotty memory.

Cleaning out his desk, he found your photo again. He couldn't remember your name but he knew what you sounded like moaning his name. He didn't remember where you'd met but he knew he slipped a ring on your finger the night you both went out searching for the best garlic bread in the city. He wasn't sure if you had family but he knew what the silken clench of your cunt felt like around his fingers and cock.

With all his unexpected free-time maybe he should track down his wayward wife. It had been too long since he'd seen you and he wasn't one to let things slip through his fingers. Whatever caused your separation would be dealt with, he wasn't going to lose you again.

[zevrra]

is it wrong of me to say that i think jayce(and viktor probably!) is sooooo into dry hü/mping? like especiallyyyyy when he’s had too much to drink, comes home all sluggish and far too hö/rny for his own good. the second he lays his eyes on you, he’s hugging you; kissing your neck while his hands grab your waist. probably mutters something sweet like “want you so bad right now.” into your ear as his hips shift, grinding the front of his body into the front of yours. he’s so needy and desperate— probably doesn’t even wait for a proper answer (you can’t say no to him anyway) before he’s pressing the strain in his pants against you. and he almost shamefully ruts into your body. panting into your ear like a wild dog while he thrusts his clothed cöck onto you. probably grunts that it: “feels good. ‘so good…” and he hasn’t even taken his clothes off yet. and i think he’d continue to dry-hümp into you until he’s at the point where he physically cannot take it anymore; then he’d be a whining, whimpering mess; begging you to let him fück you.

[niccolites]

is possessed by an evil spirit for a moment and i can only think abt brother's best friend soap (heavily inspired by @ceilidho's ask here)

Idk man something about soap having always been a little bit weird with u. he's been friends with ur brother for years, back to when you were teenagers. He's only a year older but you felt the gulf of that gap, exaggerated when he shot up, puberty like a tool he used just to tower over u and make u uncomfortable

Growing up with him as a perpetual shadow, always a little bit too close, always a little bit too intense. Your parents shrug it off when u complain about it, telling u that he just likes u and u could be nicer to him about it, poor guy. Ur brother calls u stuck up when u snub soap, hissing at u to stop embarrassing him when ur rude when johnny tries to give u his seat on the couch where they're playing on their console

only you know that he's only offering u a seat so that he can press in close, a hulking mass in the corner of your eye as hot breath hits the side of ur face while he tries to look down ur shirt. constantly trying to dodge his grabby hands that grip ur exposed thighs or smooth over ur hips - pupils blown out when his hands swallow up the expanse of your skin

u snap at one point and tell him that he disgusts u, that ur not into him at all. he goes red in the face, growling that you've been leading him on, that ur playing games with his head (he is assuming u wearing a blue bra after he yanked ur turtleneck up was to match his eyes, even tho he shouldn't have seen it in the first place)

u end up with ur panties around ur knees as he forces u to stroke his cock, panting into ur throat as u 'make apologies' to him. he forgives u btw, he knows that u have to act this way, that ur brother would kill him if he knew. makes it seem like ur partners in crime, in this together even with his hand manacled around ur wrist to stroke him off

it gets worse after he enlists, and u don't see him for weeks or months. he gets pent up, barely putting a show on for everyone before he's dragging u off slick mouth on urs until there's spittle dribbling down ur chin, whining for u to please let him see his pretty girl (he's talking abt ur pussy), already 2 knuckles deep so ur wondering why he's even asking in the first place

and now he's a hero to everyone else. stuck in the bind of him being the in-love teenager to the kind-hearted man that is risking his life for everyone, do you have to be so cruel to him?

u wonder why, face pressed into the pillows of ur childhood bedroom as he hikes ur ass into the air to rut into u hard and fast

u do what u always do, hissing and spitting at him until he finally gets his way and ur back bows as he barely pauses through ur orgasm as he chases his own. he knows that u have to put the show on, lovey, but he's waiting in the backwing for u. partners in crime right?

[rueclfer]

evergreen

𖤓 touya todoroki smau series

it's been five years since touya stepped foot onto these campgrounds. he's older now, and maybe a little bit more mature, but the woods are just as loud and the summer nights are just as hot. you're here too, and it feels like he's seventeen again, but this time, there's nowhere to run from his feelings.

𖤓 childhood friends x lovers

𖤓 cw + notables: alcohol, weed, cussing, crude language, potential suggestiveness, tomfoolery, no y/n face claims, g/n reader, time stamps are irrelevant, will include written parts

𖤓 on going

i. meet the counselors ii. meet the campers part iii. part iv. part v. part vi. part vii. part viii. part ix. part x.

[cryptid-catnip]

Requests Are Now OPEN!

I will be now working on requests of the following:

Non-yandere

Yandere

One-Shots (500-750 words)

Headcanons (4-6 each)

Alphabet Prompts (also 4-6 each)

I will write for the following fandoms:

Worm

Homestuck

Persona 3

Persona 4

Persona 5

Hazbin Hotel

Doki Doki Literature Club!

Fallout New Vegas

Fallout 4

FNaF (all games + movie)

Darkest Dungeon

Danganronpa (all games)

DC

Marvel

RWBY

[sai-int]

douchebag!simon

simon riley is a dead man walking, and he knows it. all that blood, the bodies, everything he touches just dies. he's used to it, though. used to the weight of carrying it all by himself, the scars. no one gets close enough to see it, how sick and twisted it all is. anyone in their right mind wouldn't want to.

except you, for some reason.

you look at him like you see through all the shit he's buried. like you want him, all of him. you say his name like it's something worth remembering, touch him like you know he’s a mess but still let him get close.

it fucking scares him how you let his callous hands taint your soft skin like he can't break you in half.

but when he finally does, when he's got you folded up beneath him , your knees tucked to your chin, his hips slapping against yours at a breakneck pace, fucking you absolutely stupid while his name's on your lips like a prayer.

he realizes it's not the killing that's gonna end him one day.

it’s the way you make him feel like he could be something worth saving. and he hates you for it. because he knows he’s never going to let you.

douchebag!simon mlist

[vantetaes]

BOOK WORM 🫧🥂

BOOK WORM! ARMIN X BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!! yn helps her friend relieve some stress.

WARNINGS!! 18+!! mentions of oral (f receiving), alcohol consumption, pet names, honestly just smut

the door creeps open slowly, revealing a figure illuminated by a laptop screen and a faulty led lamp. the faint clicking from the keyboard and sound of papers ruffling were the only sound that filled the room.

you peer around, the cluttered desk told you everything you needed to know: scattered papers, a coffee cup that looked like it hadn’t moved in hours, and a faint shadow under his eyes that screamed exhaustion.

“armin. what the hell?” walking over to the boy, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. the bag you came in being placed on the only clear spot of the desk. he leans into your touch a little, enjoying the warmth you never failed to bring, but snapping out of it quickly, rearing back up to continue typing.

“finals are in two weeks and if i don’t get my scores perfect i’ll have to hear about it for ages with my lawyer brother, attorney sister, my supreme court justice father, and my doctor mother.” he never once stopped typing. bending down to your knees, he gives you a small glance before reaching for a stack of crumbled pages, shuffling the sheets in confusion.

“i know it’s arou- ah! okay good.” he picks up a half ripped sheet, copying down the data from the sheet onto his laptop. lips in a tight line, you stand back up, digging through the tan tote bag. a small case of flavored beer and a couple of shooters make their way onto the desk. he looks over at the spread, immediately shaking his head.

“hell no, yn! are you crazy? i have class in the morning.” you throw you hands up in defeat.

“can we make a deal ‘minnie?” he ignores you, still typing. fed up, you finally unzip your jacket, tossing it on the extra chair. throwing one of your legs around the boy, he rears his hands up , scared to touch you. you’re straddling him, pushing the blonde locks out of his face, tucking a few of the longer pieces behind his ear. his ice blue eyes stare up at you in confusion.

“what are you doing, yn?”

“drink one beer with me. not! while doing homework. just enjoy a full beer and maybe a shooter and i’ll leave you alone afterwards! swear.” holding your pinky out to the male, he bites the insides of his cheek, thinking really hard about your opposition.

“just one?” waving your pink acrylic back and forth between your bodies, he finally latches on with his.

-

PARTYNEXTDOOR plays in the background, filling the void of quiet. the entire six pack was now just one. the one you and armin were currently sharing. he takes a swig from it, grabbing your chin with his thumb and index finger, he places the bottle to your lips. his blue eyes stare as you gulp down the last of the liquid catches you off guard, causing you to cough up a little, accidentally getting it on his white shirt.

“oh shit. im sorry.” you try to wipe it off with your sleeve. he just laughs, moving your arm a little.

“it’s okay. i’ll change.” he moves from his position on the bed, hand gripping the shirt from behind his head, pulling it over, stripping himself of the shirt. you couldn’t help but notice the way his back was sculpted.

since when does he work out? is that a tattoo?

“i didn’t know you had a tat, minnie.” slurring, he turns around to look at you sprawled out on his bed. your body waved hair sprawled out everywhere, sweater falling off your shoulders and shorts riding up your thighs.

he knows, you’re only his friend and he had no chance with you. hell, your ex is onyankopon. what could armin give up that he wasn’t? but shit, the way he thinks about you. the way his eyes can’t help but to feast on your appearance when you’re near him. he wanted to ruin you. to cherish you. to make you his.

“yeah it was an old friends idea. he passed not too long ago. still miss the kid.” he just hangs his head before going back to look for another shirt.

“come here.” you say assertively. armin turns around, the front looking just as good as his back.

he drunkenly waddles back to the bed, climbing back into his original spot. your finger traces over the abstract tattoo, inspecting it closely.

it was a sigilism tattoo that started below his ribs and extended up his left pec, to his bicep.

your other hand rested on his abdomen, laying up against the man.

“how long did it take?” you quiz.

“it was honestly two full sessions since im a pussy. so about five hours a session.” he laughs, face turning a little red.

“i think it’s so cool.” you say still studying the ink. look over at the man you see his eyes directly on you, then a quick glance down at your lips.

“i think you’re cool.” you say, feeling his body inch closer, gradually changing your position. his hands wrap around your waist, slowly shifting him under you. eyes never breaking contact.

“i think you’re-“ he leans down, eye to eye with you. his lips plant down firmly on yours. moving in sync, you could feel him relax into it, tongue occasionally swiping across your bottom lip. you’d never been this close to him. he smelled like coconut and dior cologne, hair dangling above your face.

“what about onyankopon?” pulling away from the heated kiss, he asks, worry filling his eyes.

“mm- what about him?”

“right. if you want me to stop, let me know pleas-“ throwing your arms around his neck, you pull him back down. his lips were so soft. his breath tasted like fresh peppermint, completely baffling you since you both just drank alcohol. he was intoxicating.

moving your lips in unison, there’s no rush, no urgency—just the gradual deepening of the kiss. the way his lips part slightly against yours, inviting more. his fingers slide gently along your jaw, tilting your face toward his, eager.

he forces himself to break away, whining at the loss. his lips move to your neck, hands wondering every inch of your body, trying to stimulate you every way he can. sucking and leaving marks all over your collarbone, he finds himself helping you remove your sweater. revealing a pink lace bralette.

“fuck, everything about you is so beautiful.” you whine, tugging at his sweatpants knot.

“well get there princess, lust let me make you feel good please. it’s the only thing i’ve wanted to do. let me eat you.” you could damn near see the fire that burned behind his eyes. his large hands slip under your bra, gently massaging them, using his index and thumb to roll your nipples in between. a gasp escapes your lips.

“armin- fuck.” he gets impatient, lifting your bra up to your chest, mouth immediately attaching to the swollen bud. your mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape, gripping at the man’s golden locs.

he leaves them both a few kisses before peppering your stomach with a few kisses.

staring down at the man, you see him kissing at the inside of your thighs, humming after every kiss. he finally gets impatient, gripping the shorts by the waistband, yanking them off your body. you giggle, being tugged a little.

wasting no time, he pins your legs back to the bed and starts eating you like he’s starving. his tongue dragging back and forth over your clit, saliva and spit mixing to create a glisten on the man’s face. his lips attach to your swollen clit, sucking soft while he reaches up to play with your matching swollen nipples, sliding his hands all over your exposed body.

“oh armin please!” you could feel him getting hungrier by the minute, his grip on your legs getting tighter as he rubs his tongue up and down your pussy. he stuffed two long thick fingers into your cunt scissoring them, ultimately touching your g-spot. you tried moving, your body tingling, but armin was so drunk from you, he couldn’t tell. his finger hooked into you, slowly stroking the spot, his tongue still abusing your nub. you were seeing stars at this point.

“fuck- minnie im gonna cum!” without fail, you released all over the man’s hand, fluid shooting out of your throbbing cunt, all over his face.

but he didn’t stop. his tongue continued its dance around on you.

“fuck me, i can’t take anymore, please armin.”

without saying anything, he pulls you closer by the waist. coming out of his sweatpants, his hand pumps a few times while he reaches in his side desk to grab a condom.

you also never knew how big he was. you stare at his length as he hovers over you, a little confused.

“where was that at?” you point, he laughs, pushing your legs apart again. looking down, a string of saliva falls right onto your slick, mixing in with the rest.

“was savin him for you, baby.” the tip slides in with ease, armins head throws back, already in love with the way you were sucking him in.

“give me all of it, please.” hips bucking up, trying to get the entire length into your throbbing core. his hands dig into your hips, pressing your down into the mattress, slowly sliding fully into you.

nails on his back, you let out the most nasty moan.

“shit, you feel so good squeezing around me.” pulling out, his body shakes a little, unable to control his whiny moans.

he keeps his strokes gentle and paced, still holding your body deep into the bed. hands pressed to the back of your thighs, he pushes down more, spreading yourself open to take more of him.

his throbbing cock continues slow and teasing, building a fire in the pit of your stomach. pulling your legs together, feet towards his face, his mouth kisses your pedicured toes.

the paces quickens, causing your body to forcefully move up and down. he snakes his arms around your legs, locking them in place with a bear hug, still pounding against you.

“armin! im cumming againn-” before you could catch yourself, you’re squirting all over his dick. he laughs at you, removing his arm, using one of his hands to play with your clit.

“ feel so fucking good. i don’t wanna stop fucking you. please, give me one more.”

he didn’t care that he hadn’t finished, all he wanted was you and all he could give you.

his pace slows down, the look on his face in pure bliss. your hands come up, caressing his face, tears brimming your eyes. the words wouldn’t even form.

“i want it baby, please cum with me.” your voice broken and low, his body lowers, connecting with yours and he slides his arms under your body, slowing down to a good pace. the unforgettable feeling of that tight coil in your stomach shows again as his cock digs at your spot relentlessly.

“im gonna cum, fuck-“

“me too, give it to me, ‘min!” your bodies clash against each others, sweat collecting on your chests, finally reaching the climax. his hips slow down, trying to catch his breath. pulling out, you both groan.

“i hope you know im not letting you fuck anybody else.” he saying rolling over, fixing your hair. your head falls over in direction.

“you too baby.”

with a few more laughs, he stands from the bed, trashing the condom before walking to you. his large arms scoop you up into a cradle.

“let’s get you in the shower.”

© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.

[7nuh]

I HC Scarletella is smart enough to figure out MC's language and I'm currently brainrotting over an AU wherein he attempts to adapt a normal, human life. As normal as he can pretend to be, though, while getting closer to you. MC is a completely unassuming person by day and a serial killer by night who is freaked out by this random tall and mute redhead suddenly appearing in the oddest places. Simple coincidence doesn't explain any of it anymore. MC starts seriously considering murdering him too lest he foil their secret hobby, only to realize he may just be as fucked up as them...

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Professor!Viktor Headcanons

Professor!Viktor who just knows you're not in mechanical engineering 101 to learn anything. Every week you come to class, sit in the front row at the table closest to his desk, and openly stare at him like there's nobody else around you. You rest your cheek in the palm of your hand, with a slight pout of your plump lips, and watch him like a lovesick puppy. You always wear tops that are much too low and skirts that are much too short for university, and he's certain it’s only to check what makes him tick. But if you think that's going to be enough, you're sorely mistaken: there are few people he dislikes more than those who go through school mindlessly, without any intent to study or to give it their all. And you're not the first, nor the last, to try and get his attention like this. So, he ignores you.

Professor!Viktor who is genuinely surprised to see the result of your first class quiz is an A+. A stroke of luck, maybe? But then comes the second quiz, and the third, and the first big assignment, and you ace all of them brilliantly. He can't help a few wayward glances towards you during his lectures, trying to understand how you do it. The button of your dress shirt is pulled so tightly it might give out at any moment, and he can see the colour of your bra without meaning to: a vibrant lavender with pale lace. You're still looking at him with that enamoured look in your eyes, batting your eyelashes, visibly not absorbing a single word he says.

Professor!Viktor who asks you to come by his office after class at the mid-semester, because it's driving him insane. You keep getting the top marks for every single exam, but you never show an inkling of attention in class. All you do is sit there, dumb and pretty, begging him with your eyes to take you right there and then. You probably wouldn't even mind if it was in front of the other students; maybe that's part of whatever steamy fantasy goes through your mind during his lectures. Since last week, you've started ‘accidentally’ letting your pen fall off your desk, bending down at ridiculous angles to show him (and only him) the full expense of your thighs and the thin fabric of your panties. Your lack of subtlety is becoming as outrageous as it is a little endearing. And yes, he would be lying if he said it didn't affect him, that he didn't have frustrating thoughts of you at night. Thoughts he absolutely shouldn't have towards a student of his, no matter how blatantly flirtatious. But the conundrum that you are has managed to crawl under his skin, and he wants to fuck some respect for academia into you. He wants to give you exactly what you've been pleading for for weeks, until you understand exactly why you should have listened to him in class. But he has to know the truth behind your grades, first. If it turns out you've been cheating, then he'll expel you from the course without a second thought. But if you haven't…

Professor!Viktor who makes you sit on a chair in his office, opting to stand in front of you. He had intended it to be intimidating, but it's clearly having the opposite effect with the wanting expression on your face, your lips slightly parted in waiting. He’s certain that with only one word from him, you'd be on your knees and ready to suck his cock. And it's an idea that's getting harder and harder to resist, with that infernal way you always look at him. He thinks it might be the first time he’s heard your voice when you speak up. It sounds as pretty as the rest of you, just asking to be broken down into pants and moans. He’s very disappointed to learn all you've been doing is recording his lessons with your phone, and listening to them again at home. But then, you confess to something else.

Professor!Viktor who is unable to reply immediately, because the thought of you, riding a vibrator as you listen to recordings of him talking about linear algebra, is absolutely maddening. He can't get over the fact that you're so focused on his voice when you fuck yourself on your toys that you manage to remember all of the basics of kinematics for the exams. It's an unorthodox method, without a doubt, but you've proven its efficacity; and who is he to tell you how to best do your studying?

Professor!Viktor who agrees to let you keep audio recording his classes for the rest of the semester, and who promises that if you keep up the string of perfect grades, he’ll let you have the real thing at the end.

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 1: Here’s Your One Chance | Next | Ao3

MDNI

Vampire! Poly! 141 x Plus size! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A permanent darkness rests over the city. Cold, too. Despite living here your whole life you’ve never quite adjusted to the artificial nature of it - to the shadow hanging above the miles and miles of city and the constant chill on your skin.

Really, you aren’t meant to be here. This place isn’t built for humans despite the mass that live within the confines of the city’s dome. It’s made for creatures - beings of the night that stalk and rule. The air has become rotten in the lower neighborhoods over a century due to pollution and overpopulation. It will turn your lungs black before the age of five without the proper protection.

Apartment buildings are crowded and decent living conditions are hard to come by. Many have a waitlist longer than the human lifespan. Most operate on a dorm system - at least one person per room. Randomly assigned of course, based entirely on who can pay the rent. You’ve lucked out enough to earn a shitty studio to yourself. It’s cracked and crumbling but the locks are tight and it has a window - even if the view is just a building across the alleyway.

You squeeze into a black mini dress, tying your hair up to show off the double string of pearls on your neck. They’re the nicest thing you own - the only thing worthy of this club. The only thing that can project the image needed to get proper tips. Red lipstick as a final touch. It’s corny, you know, but the vampire clients are always suckers for it. Pun intended.

This job is important. There can’t be a hair out of place. This is your chance. Your one chance to make enough money to get out of the slums. To at least make it to the middle city. You can practically hear the grime on the sidewalk as you make your way toward the metro station. Dirt and debris so caked into the very air down here that you have to wear a respirator as you go. It’ll leave marks when you first take it off, but they usually disappear by the time you’ve made it from the depot to the club.

You don’t bother with sitting on the train. Hell will freeze over before you chance catching whatever new disease has grown in that Petri dish. Instead you join the rest of the patrons in awkwardly standing in the center of the cart, damn near falling over when the train lurches to begin its journey from the slums to the upper city. There are actual names for the two areas, but nobody uses them anymore.

The respirator makes a hissing sound as you remove it after stepping out of the train. The cool, clean air of the upper city fills your lungs. It’s satisfying in a way its sticky, filtered sister could never be. The faux fur of your cropped coat tickles a bit as you walk, blown by that strange breeze that never seems to stop in the upper city. The one that blows all the grime and smog downhill.

The club sits square in central downtown - the bottom level of a historical hotel. It’s an elegant building. Red with curled metal accents over the windows and doors. Modeled after the ancient art nouveau movement. It sparkles underneath the artificial LEDs of the city - all signs and glowing windows. You can always tell where the humans are, catching glimpses of that unmistakable glow only a UV light gives off.

You duck down the alley behind the hotel. Grimy and dark, the complete opposite of the front entrance. Your heels clack on the concrete loudly - echoing off the hard walls of the building surrounding you.

It’s easy enough to slip into the routine of your job. Going back and forth to the bartender, carrying various drinks and placating the egos of cowardly men and the vampires they lie to themselves about being equal to. You can see the hunger in their eyes when you tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to the light. When your wrists just pass their noses as you set down their glasses.

It’s hard work. Long hours and more days of the week than you would like, but it pays enough for you to afford your little apartment and save some for your future.

“Hey! New girl!” The owner barks at you as you gently set your tray back into the stack to be washed.

You whirl on your heel. Shit, did you fuck up? Ruin everything? Your mind runs through every interaction over the course of the night - every comment, every stilted moment. “Y-yes, sir?”

“Need you as a Companion.” He stands in front of you, the pinstripes of his suit warping over his massive crossed arms. The wrinkle in his nose makes his mustache twitch.

“C-companion!” You squeak. “I’m not-“

“We had a call out. Need you to take the private booth in the back.”

Your eyes are saucers - heart beating so hard you almost can’t hear his words. You don’t know what to make of this. His words are harsh and cut right though you, but the prospect they hold…

“You paying attention?” He grunts.

Your voice shakes. “Just… why me?”

“You match their preference.” Its blunt. Uncaring. Not that you would ever expect much sympathy from the owner of a place like this - feeding girls to vampires and their kin.

Generally, you’re not the type to be preferred - too big and soft for most. It’s what kept you as a server exclusively, you’re sure. Companion is such a major step up, too. You haven’t had any training. You never thought you’d get there - only a few girls make it from Server to Companion. To have it by happenstance…

With a deep breath you remind yourself that this is temporary. Just for tonight. You are acting as a replacement, nothing more. If you pull this off maybe you’ll get enough tips to finally replace the air filtration in your apartment. Maybe you can even get an overhead UV light. Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely!

Another tray is shoved into your hands. Is this… actual gold? Ornate designs line the outer rim - all weaving in and out of each other inlaid with iridescent mother of pearl. It’s cold on your hands and so shiny you catch your reflection in it before the bartender sets a bottle of wine and four glasses on it. You’re fairly certain between the wine and the tray you are holding upwards of four thousand dollars a in your hands. It takes everything to keep your hands from trembling.

You slowly head for the back booth - just beyond the main floor of the bar. It’s far more quiet here. The music from the floor muffled by distance. There are only a few private booths and they are only ever occupied by the city’s elite. The top of the top. You pause at the heavy, velvet burgundy curtain separating you and your clients for tonight. They could be anyone.

You hope they aren’t the type to get rough.

Balancing the tray on one hand, you use the other the push the heavy curtain to the side - entire body alert and tense as your eyes land on the four men sitting around the rounded booth. Their eyes meet yours, and you freeze. A shiver runs down your spine.

They’re beautiful in that way only vampires can be. Untouchable. Marble-esque. Eyes clear and bright even in the low light of the booth - that sheen of night vision apparent. Lions staring down their prey and you, who walked into the den willingly.

“Good evening.” It takes everything to keep your voice steady. To slip back into that comfortable customer service headspace you’ve curated over the years. “I’ll be your Companion tonight.”

“What happened t’ Cherry?” The man on the outer right side of the booth asks. His arm is slung carelessly over the back of the booth, body slack and comfortable.

“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You say softly, carefully sliding the tray onto the table. “If I’m not to your standards-“

“Well, now, none of us said that.” A man with an imperial beard smiles. It softens his face - makes him look less like stone. “What’s your name, dove?”

“Fancy.” You murmur. It’s your chosen work name - based on a song your mother used to play from a century ago. One of your earliest memories is her lifting you into her arms and spinning around to the song. All the workers names are single words. Easy to remember. Easy to request for returning quests.

“Fittin’.” The man to your left grins, bright blue eyes sparkling. His fangs catch the light - your hands tremble for a brief moment.

“Do you know who we are?” The masked man beside him asks. His voice rumbles through your nerves, all the way into your bones. You can hardly look at him - the skull covering the top half of his face makes your gut churn.

Should you know them? Oh, fuck, you probably should. Vampires live forever - their names and legacies travel across centuries. Millenia. It’s going to give you away. You’re just a low class human from the slums. You don’t know Vampires from the uppers.

The illusion of luxury only goes so far.

“It’s not a trick question.” The man to your right smiles gently, tilting his head to the side.

“No, sir.”

“Well,” The one with the beard sits a little straighter. “I’m John Price and these are my… confidants. Cohorts. Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish and Simon Riley.” He gestures to each as he goes.

John Price… John Price… Nothing comes to mind. Nothing about any of them, for that matter.

“Lovely to meet you.” You smile pleasantly, slipping back into the script. Swallowing roughly and steadying yourself, you reach for the bottle and slowly pouring a tester amount into the four glasses. “Tonight we have a vintage red from 2089.”

John hums, swirling the glass before taking a sip. His eyes glow in the low bar light. “You remember the 80’s, Simon?”

“Which one?” The makes you pause. How many 80’s could there be?

John laughs, whole and hearty. Little crows feet appear in the corners of his eyes. “Which d’you think?”

“I remember the blood.” The masked man mutters. He doesn’t look at John - dark eyes locked on you. You keep up the well trained smile. Neutral, comfortable.

“Och, ye would.” Johnny scoffs, taking his own glass after John gives you a nod to fill the four properly. “Cannae ever remember the good.”

“Well what’s your finest memory then Johnny?”

“There’s was this lass… think her name was Cassandra. Had the biggest tits and-“

“Enough of that. Theres a lady present.” John waves his hand. To your surprise, Johnny actually listens despite looking muffed about it. You can’t help but snort. Lady. As if.

How old are they, anyway? They look young - especially Johnny and Kyle. Definitely below thirty when they were turned. John obviously leads but that doesn’t necessarily mean he turned the rest of them. They could have just come together over the years. Vampire covens vary heavily as to why they came together. Sometimes friendship, sometimes relation, sometimes just convenience.

Simon is still staring you down, hooking a thumb under his mask to raise it just over the end of his nose. Scarred lips sip from his glass.

“Come sit, luv.” Kyle pats the booth beside him.

You snap out of your thoughts at the prompt - moving to sit in the empty spot beside Kyle. The next thing you know hands are on your hips, passing you over until you’re sat square in the middle as if you weigh nothing. You know vampires are strong - you’ve gotten thrown around by your fair share in the slums, whether a mugging or fucking - but it still startles you. They could crush you with barely a flick of the wrist.

Fingers brush over your shoulders, tracing the shape of them before lowering to rest between your exposed shoulder blades. They’re cold and leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Tell us about yourself, hm?” John prompts.

“Oh, not much to tell.” You shrug and smile. “I’m from the city. Started here about a year ago-“

“How have we never seen ye then?” Johnny interrupts, eyes locked on your chest. “A bonnie thing like ye…”

“Well…” You raise your hand to your mouth like you would when whispering a secret. “I’m not supposed to tell but I’m actually a server, normally.”

“Oh, really?” Kyle leans his chin on his palm. “In a dress like that?”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” You huff, letting the pliant facade slip just enough to make yourself seem real. Just a little less doll like before you return to the script.

“Absolutely nothin’.” Simon hums beside you, eyes near black under the shadow of his mask.

Your face heats. Client compliments never get to you and you’re not sure what about his feels so different. All of their attention is so intense. It dives under your skin and burrows deep in your marrow.

“So, seeing as you implied I should know who you are-“ You tilt your head and meeting John’s eye, “who are you?”

John chuckles, leaning close. “Oh, no one important. Contractors. Independently employed.”

“Ah, so, criminals.” You laugh.

“If you say so.”

“I can’t exactly judge.” You lean in as well, shoulder pressing against his broad chest. The material of his suit is soft and thick. High quality. “I mean, look where I am, hm?”

“Are ye a criminal, lassie?” Johnny grins at you, tilting his head. How he makes a mo-hawk cute is beyond you.

“Shh.” You press a finger to your lips.

It’s easy enough to look sultry, to play the part, to mindlessly flirt. Easy enough to fall into the simple back and forth. Scripted. Basic. Nothing out of the ordinary. They’re just clients at the end of the day, even if they have more money and power than your usual crowd.

You carefully refill each of their glasses. You can feel their eyes on you - boring through your very being. It takes more concentration than you’d like to keep your breath from hitching when John’s hand rests on your upper thigh. You lean forward, pushing each glass back to their respective owners.

Johnny takes your hand before you can retract it, placing gentle kisses from your palm to your wrist. He sighs shakily, teeth catching your skin ever so slightly.

“Johnny.” The masked man rumbles in warning.

“Not gonnae bite, LT… she just smells incredible.” Johnny murmurs against your wrist.

“Have you ever been bitten, dove?” John asks, eyes half lidded as he stares you down. That feeling comes back.

Prey. You’re just prey.

“N-no…” You shake your head, voice smaller than you’d like. You’re not supposed to. Clients aren’t allowed to bite the girls here - it’s not one of those clubs - but in reality you’re at your mercy. To book one of these rooms they surely have the money to pay whoever necessary to do whatever they might want with you.

“Donnae look so afraid.” Johnny chuckles.

“We’re not goin’ t’bite.” Kyle leans forward. “Just curious.”

“Oh…” You whisper. Johnny drops your wrist and you pray that they don’t notice how quickly you retract it.

“Alright boys, time for business.” John sighs. He suddenly grabs your chin, turning you to face him. It’s a light touch, not too rough but solid. His pupils dilate and yours with them. “You’ll forget everything we say from now until I snap my fingers.”

The next thing you know you’re blinking blearily, sitting in John’s lap with your legs across Kyle’s. The younger man’s hand rests on your leg, thumb gently stroking your ankle as you come back to sentience.

It’s like coming up from the undertow and getting your first gasp of air.

“There she is.” Johnny murmurs, smiling softly.

You were compelled - you know that much. It’s disorienting. You rub the corner of your eye, purposefully evening your breath. At least your clothes are all still in place. You don’t feel… touched. Not bitten either. A choked sigh escapes you against your will, hands trembling in your lap.

“You’re alright, dove.” John coos, cold breath puffing against your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. How much time has passed? When… what… “Can be hard t’come out of it, hm?”

“I’m okay...” You whisper.

“Have some water.” Kyle pushes a glass toward you. The concern on his face feels foreign.

A large, empty decanter of scotch sits in the center of the table accompanied by several empty glasses. That’s the closest hint you have to how long you’ve been here. You take the glass of water shakily and sip, leaving an imprint of red lipstick on the rim.

John continues to coo and soothe down your hair. His other hand travels down to rest on your hip, holding you in place against him. It’s strange… this feeling. You’ve been compelled before briefly but it wasn’t like this. John has to be strong. Old. He’s been around a while to have that kind of power - for it to be this difficult for you to come out of the haze. It’s taking more concentration to keep from crying than you’d like.

Stranger, though, is the way they watch you. The way John works you back to reality. Most vampires would have been inappropriate while you were gone, wouldn’t bother with the borderline aftercare needed when coming out from under their spell. Most would have left you slumped in the booth - drained of blood and pleasure - laughing as they went.

You clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter and gathering your wits. “Can I get you gentleman anything else?”

They share a look, one that you can’t quite interpret.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” John asks, voice low.

You look up at him with big eyes. Childlike, almost, staring up in wonder. It’s so strange how vampires aren’t quite white - they just lack the redness of life. The pink under the skin that signifies a beating heart and limited life span.

“I’m sure.”

John presses closer, breath caressing the shell of your ear. “Thank you for being so gracious f’us, tonight.

“Always…” There’s an honestly behind the word that startles you. A craving deep in your bones to prove yourself worthy of him and his men.

Strange.

“We best be on our way.” Simon rumbles, prompting Johnny to let him out of the booth.

John’s eyes flick between yours briefly before he moves you off of his lap with the gentle touch one might use when handling fine china. As much as you want to stay there, dazed and still coming down, you have work to do. So, you stand after them and begin slowly gathering the empty glasses on the tray. They feel heavier in your hand the normal.

A cold touch runs up your back and you freeze. Fingers trace the curve of your spine. You straighten, turning slowly only to meet those soft blue eyes again. John takes your hand, eyes alight with something you don’t understand. “I’ll tell the owner he’s wasting you as a servin’ girl. You’re made for more.”

Before you can even possibly decide how to respond, he’s gone. Disappeared through the curtain and into the forever night. Something crinkles in your hand. When you look down, slowly opening your fingers, the contents make your heart jump into your throat.

Cash. A massive roll of neatly banded cash.

How much is this? A thousand? More?

With frightened eyes and slippery hands you tuck the cash into the secret pocket of your coat. Having that much cash on your person is so out of your wheelhouse - out of the realm of possibility- you don’t know how to react.

You didn’t even get to say thank you.

Your mind whirls as you finish up your shift, eyes glazed over while slipping on your coat. The other girls look off put. A few whisper and stare.

What do they think you did?

Then again, you think as you brace yourself for the lurching and squealing of the metro, there isn’t any way to know what happened. Not unless one of the vampires tells you, and good luck prying any information out of one of them. Even if they tell you, they can just make you forget all over again.

How did you behave? Were you the same as always? Were you an entirely different person?

Some people forget themselves when under compulsion - every inhibition thrown to the wind carelessly. You need your inhibitions. They keep your job secure and yourself safe. You can’t afford carelessness.

The walk back home is tense. That small bulk in your pocket burns a hole though you as your mind runs with every possibility of what might have happened. What you might have done to earn such a massive tip. It can’t have been dignified, could it?

There’s no way they just like you. That’s not how vampires are.

It takes everything to motivate yourself to actually take off your clothing and jewelry before falling into bed. However long they had you, it drained you. Left you tired and shaky as you crawl under the thick bundle of quilts that make up for the lack of heating in your home.

Your eyes meet the wad of cash that barely fit in the inner pocket of your coat. It feels like a threat. Use me well or lose me forever! Make me count because you’ll never see me again!

For now, at least, you can bask in it.