#dexter is such a good brother

[girl-bateman]

Imagine unknowingly dating a serial killer (also your brothers brother), almost getting murdered by said serial killer, going to therapy to deal with the trauma, getting through 2 sessions before your therapist declares that youre in love with your ACTUAL brother, going through all the stages of denial before finally coming to terms with the fact that you ARE in love with your brother, mustering up the currage to confess but instead catching him in the middle of a homicide because he too, is a serial killer

[lizziedarings]

in my head where daringlizzie are entirely real and true and canon i think daring wld be sooo normal ab the wonderlandians like alistair is fr just some guy to him and it wld be so fawking funny bc alistair CANNOT STAND HIM. alistair cant be normal ab him bc he thinks bunny might have a crush on daring (she doesnt) + thats so fawking rude of daring especially since hes dating lizzie + he still CANT BELIEVE lizzie fell for an idiot like him. she deserves so much better. i think alistair wld try sooo hard to be normal like who even is this guy hes just some guy. ESPECIALLY bc daring is nothing but polite and nice to him but it just pisses him off even more. and he KNOWS that this hatred is entirely one sided like he is not above giving daring a shovel talk and making him think that murder is totally allowed in wonderland if its the name of lizzie (they wld literally never find ur body dude) and daring wld be like haha what a silly thing to say! u wonderlandians r always so funny! and it wld drive alistair crazy. literally who is this guy and why does lizzie like him so much

[lantanasmuttyfanfics]

evil queen x Good king one?

Because there was no specification I hope you don’t mind that it’s smutty.

But none the less I hope you enjoy!!

Anyway I’m sorry for the long wait and I promise that for the other commissioners that their fic is coming out soon 

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People liked thronecoming for different reasons. For some it was to raise their status and fame, for other it was for a fun night, and for people like her it was to create mayhem.

It was the perfect plan that very surprisingly little red riding hood out of all people decided to help with. The evil queen wanted to steal the storybook of legends for the fun of it, little red wanted to steal it for her and her lovers sake.

There were only a handful of people who knew that little red was fucking the big bad wolf and because they were supposed to be enemies if anyone found out that they were dating, who knew what would happen.

So little red’s solution? Steal the story book of legends and replace it with a fake. When the evil queen heard of the girls plans she was quick to elope her in her own schemes.

So here they were now in their dorm as the clock struck 12am. The evil queen had placed a barrier around the room so no one could come in without their permission as they now tried to figure out where to hide the book.

Their original idea of throwing it down the well of wonder was scrapped quickly as the map that was to lead them there had suddenly disappeared.

“What if we store it the dungeons?” The evil queen rolled her eyes as she paced, groaning as her gowns skirt got stuck under a lose floorboard.

“The dungeon? Red seriously someone is going to find it in a snap.” She sighed as he tugged again at her gowns skirt that wouldn’t release.

Red peaked at the clock that was ticking by ever so slowly. “Well we have to hurry up. The guys will be here soon to pick us up.” The evil queen despite herself felt warmth fill her as she thought of him.

“Oh curse this stupid fucking floorboard!” She raised a hand and blasted the floor so roughly that the board flew of.

As it did both girls gasped as they saw the empty compartment like space in there. Smirking she turned to look at Red who was starting to sweat with anxiety.

“Oh this was a bad idea. What was I thinking it’s not like I can ever get the happily ever after I want.” The evil queen paused and turned to look at her roommate.

She kneeled down and put a hand on the book, “but you can. Just give me the book and I’ll put it in that compartment and cast a spell so it’s concealed in the floor.”

Red was about to answer when a knock on their door rang about. Both girls heads snapped in that direction as the voice of the good king rang out.

“Red? Sweetheart? Are guys still in there.” In her panic Red dropped the book with a loud bang and quickly moved out the way as the evil queen grabbed the book.

“Hello? Girls open the door.” The evil queen sighed and hastily threw the book in the hole before putting the board on top and starting to chant a spell under her breath.

Purple light illuminated the room as the spell fell into place and the floorboard merged into one with the others. “Red! The rug.”

Red quickly started to smooth the rug on top of the floorboard as the evil queen lifted the spell she put on the room and greeted the good king with a devious smile.

“Sorry baby. Red needed a little help with her umm makeup.” To distract him from looking she placed a palm on his chest and ran her pointy nail down his chest.

He shuddered at the feeling and was quick to grab her hips as he cleared his throat. He was gazing at her with such intensity as the evil queen led them inside.

“Oh umm Red- I uhh you know he’s umm looking for you.” He gulped as he tried to focus on his words while his queen played with the zipper of his pants.

He didn’t notice as Red left without a second look or how the evil queen gave the girl a smirk as she fixed a turned over corner of the rug with her foot.

“You look so good in purple.” She whispered bringing her lips to his ear as his hands tightened on her hips.

And as she looked at him with a seductive siren look in her eyes he felt all blood rush from his head to his dick so quickly that he was lightheaded for a second. “Could say the same thing about you.” The evil queen pretended to swoon as she pushed him roughly on the bed.

“You could. But my mouth would be to preoccupied to thank you.” He raised a brow at her words as she suddenly got on her knees in front of him and started to massage his thighs. Biting his lip, the good king grabbed the bed sheets in a fist as he made an effort not to push her head on him.

But the evil queen grabbed one of his hands and brought his index finger in her mouth, she swirled her tongue and sucked roughly her eyes never leaving his own.

As saliva dribbled down her chin he was quick to wipe it before she pulled his finger out of her mouth and sucked the remaining saliva as she started to fiddle with his zipper. “Just a little preview before the show.”

The good king groaned and threw his head back as one of her nails trailed around the base of his dick as the evil queen pulled his pants down his thighs. Knowing that he was already rock hard she leaned in and placed an open mouthed kiss on his mouth before she pulled his pants the rest of the way.

Without breaking eye contact, she stuck her tongue out and slowly circled the head before pulling him deeper into her mouth. He grunted and bucked his hips, his hands wrapping around her hair as he pushed her head down.

The evil queen let him and felt the head hit the back of her throat, she waved a hand as he tried to push her head again and a whisp of purple smoke grabbed his hands and brought them behind his back. Now that he was restrained and pulled his dick out of her mouth with a pop.

Enjoying his whine as he sweated and looked at her with confused eyes. She only smirked and pushed him down so he was laying down on the bed, the good king let out a surprised yelp before lust clouded his mind watching his girlfriends strip tease him.

She started with the straps of her dress, slowly pulling them down before her breasts popped out of their confines. She didn’t continue tho, instead climbing ontop of him as she grinded with her covered heat on his dick.

He moaned and threw his head back, wishing nothing more then to just grab her. But it seemed she had other plans for him, the evil queen started to grind against him biting her lip to contain the sounds before she planted her hands on his chest and ripped his shirt down the middle, licking her lips at the sight.

“Fuck sweetheart!” She could feel his need pulsing against her with the little jerks his hips gave when she collided down on him. She knew how desperate he was but she was having so much fun teasing the daylights out of him.

With her mind made up she started stripping her dress of again, this time pushing it to her hips and she ran her hands down her chest and stomach. She fondeled with her own breasts letting him hear her pleasure as she peered down at him from ontop letting her eyes glow in the way that drove him mad.

She continued to tease him and fondle with her breasts for a few more minutes before the lust building inside her was becoming to much bare. She needed that release and by looking at the good king he looked like he was about to pop a vein.

Sliding down the rest of her dress, she was now left with only her crown and heels. She was about to take the of when the good king husked out, “keep them on…” he really was going insane just by how fucking hot and delicious his girlfriend looked dressed in nothing but her crown and heels.

Sliding down her hand, she grabbed his underwear tightly before she ripped it of with a wave of her finger. His pants came of soon after and she was left staring at his hard dick that was red and pulsing from lust.

Leaning down she made him look her in the eye before she finally sunk in. They both let out their screams and moans as the evil queen pushed down on his length until she thought she felt him in her stomach.

Graining he attacked her neck with his lips as he sucked at her skin, making sure to leave little bruises behind that he knew she wouldn’t hide. With both the stimulation coming from the good kings sucking at her neck and his dick deep inside her, the evil queen felt this fullness fill her.

It was a very good fullness that she wished would never go away and with how things were playing out she wished she could just cast a spell and keep them like that. But that wouldn’t be very convenient when she was planning world domination.

Bucking up at her, the evil queen jolted and gasped before wrapping a hand around his throat. “Seems someone needs to learn to control themselves…” she licked him from his neck to his chest as she said that enjoying the feeling of him withering under her.

To make sure he couldn’t move she conjured up that purple smoke and wrapped it around his hips effectively pinning him down as she started to roll her hips in an agonizingly slow pace. She wanted to go faster but she also wanted to draw this out for as long as possible. And if she went down on him like she wanted she feared that she wouldn’t last long.

Over the last week she couldn’t have sex with her boyfriend due to… world domination planning reasons and all that pent up sexual frustration was eating away at her as she rocked and grinded on him.

Now with the both of the panting and near out of breath, the evil queen sped up on her grinding and rocking smirking as the veins in the good kings body bulged out. She ran her tongue along one near his throat as she slammed down after nearly retracting entirely.

The good king moaned loudly his hands itching to grab her as he said “don’t… do that. I- I don’t know if I’ll last long like that.” The evil queen chuckled in his ear doing it again and again, moaning as she felt his dick jolt inside her slick heat.

Being near herself she threw her head back and hit her lip as she focused on chasing down that long awaited climax that was just on the tip of falling over the edge. Being distracted by the pleasure, the purple confines around the good kings body started to disappear.

Feeling this he immediately grabbed the evil queens hips and slammed up words smirking himself at the surprise in her voice. She tried to put the confines back in place but the good king held her hips down on him as he slammed up again and again until he felt her tight walls squeeze around him as she came over the edge.

He followed soon after and had to turn his head in the pillow to conceal his groan. They both panted and waited for a while as they regained their breaths before the evil queen pulled out and sat on the edge of the bed fixing her crown.

With a wave of her hand she and the good king were now back to being dressed neatly and their hair tidy but as she turned to look at him she found him near asleep on her bed. Softly rolling her eyes she gently shook him.

“Come on sweetheart! I have a thronecoming to win.”

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Hope you enjoyed this little spice and as always feel free to send me a commission any time for any fandom you want just remember to specify if you want fluff or smut!!

I have an other evil queen x good king fic coming (hopefully) Wednesday so make sure to come back for that if you are interested

[mxmoth]

WYATT SICKS and AMERICAN MADE on WWR RAW | 8-5-24

[nthflower]

I need a serial killer show right now like Dexter but better.

Remember when therapist made Debra believe she was in love with her brother for no reason. That's why I stopped watching it.

[happy74827]

A New Moon

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite his gut telling him he shouldn’t, Dexter can’t help but fall deeper into the trap of his own emotions. And the more time he spends with you, the more he starts to realize what exactly those emotions are. {GIF Creds: beautifulguycollector}

WC: 2889

Category: Slight Lime/Spice, Friends to Lovers + Forbidden Love (if you squint) Tropes

Gotta keep this fandom alive somehow 🥲 (also… why are titles so hard to write? That and the synopsis are harder to write than the actual fic)

『••✎••』

You were too good for him. Plain and simple. You were a smart, beautiful, hard-working woman who had goals and dreams. He was a cold-blooded killer. Not to say that he hadn't been there for you, though. The two of you had been friends since… well, a while. A long while.

He couldn't quite pinpoint the moment he started to notice the changes in your relationship. It was a slow, subtle buildup, and the first time you called him your friend, Dexter thought nothing of it. The second time, it made him pause, but not enough for him to consider what the implications of you saying that to him could mean.

But when you said it again and again and again, he realized the meaning behind your words, the affection they held. Dexter couldn't say that he was particularly close to many people. There were a select few he'd consider his friends, but he wasn’t emotionally invested in any of them. And he didn't think he was invested in you, either.

But maybe he was.

Debs was different, and it made him question how much he was supposed to care about someone. But that was his sister, the one person in the world who loved him unconditionally. That reason alone made his relationship with Deb unique. He was sure of that.

The same went with Brian—his brother, as it turned out. And Harrison, his son. Dexter felt things for those people, but they were different. Those were family, the people he was genetically tied to. Of course, he would care about them.

But you weren't family, and yet he still cared about you. It was a different kind of caring. And it was confusing. Dexter had convinced himself for years that he was a high-functioning sociopath, but lately…

Lately, he was beginning to question if that was true. Simple glances from you could bring an unwelcome smile to his lips. And when he heard the sound of your voice, he could feel his chest getting warm. It was a nice feeling, something he'd only experienced briefly with Rita, but then, that relationship was different too.

It was hard to put his finger on it, but being with you was just… easy. And it didn't feel like work. There was no pretending. Dexter didn't have to act when he was around you. He didn't need to try to be someone he wasn't. It was the real him.

It was terrifying.

Because now, as he sat on your couch, watching as you moved gracefully around your small apartment, the feeling was back, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

He should have been home with Harrison, but the little boy was staying over at Debra’s tonight, so he didn't have any responsibilities. The passenger within him didn’t see it as a problem either, considering he’d just recently “disposed" his latest target.

It was nice, Dexter decided, to relax every once in a while. Work and family didn't give him a lot of opportunities to do so, and now that the two were temporarily taken care of, he felt he deserved to be lazy for a bit.

You didn’t have a TV in your living room, so the two of you settled for movies. Dexter didn’t really have a preference for them. He could watch a comedy, action, drama, or horror and not feel strongly for or against any of them.

Apparently, you didn't mind what he watched either because he could see the spark of excitement in your eyes when you pulled out the case for one of the worst comedy films Dexter had ever seen.

He'd seen it before. Not with you, one of the movies Vince shoved down his throat when he planned a night out with him, Angel, and Quinn.

It wasn't his favorite, not by a long shot, but the grin on your face and the way you eagerly skipped to the DVD player, set the disk inside, and closed the hatch made him bite his tongue.

Dexter had learned a long time ago that you were a very expressive person. And even though most of the time your feelings weren't displayed on your face, your eyes told another story. Such opposites to his own, Dexter often found himself fascinated by the light they held.

You had a passion for life that was rare, and it drew him in. It was a quality he lacked, and he could see it in everything you did. Whether it was talking about the newest book you read or making coffee, you put all of yourself into your actions.

It was something that Dexter had never understood. How could you have such a strong sense of self? Didn't it get tiring, having to live up to a standard of being so… so good?

But then again, you'd always been better than him. He might’ve been smarter in some regards, but what was intelligence if it didn't come from a place of morality? You were better, purer than him. He knew it, and everyone else did, too, even if they weren’t aware of how pure he wasn’t

That's why this was so wrong. This thing that had been going on for the past couple of months between the two of you. The subtle touches, the longing stares, the late-night calls. It was all wrong.

You were similar to Rita in some ways. You were kind and compassionate, always looking for the good in others. You had a knack for taking care of people, whether they needed it or not.

Dexter could tell that was your nature, and it was one of the things that initially attracted him to you. All the things he lacked, you had. But that didn't mean that you could replace Rita. He didn’t want you to.

And that was the difference. While he may have found qualities in you that resembled the ones he'd found in Rita, you were not her. Rita was gone, and it was his fault. She didn’t deserve to die, and yet she did. She deserved to grow old, to see Harrison grow up.

She deserved better.

The same went for you. You didn’t deserve a monster like him. The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that he should stay away. It was for the best of both of you.

And yet he was here. On your couch, watching a shitty movie and drinking the beer you'd offered him. Because, despite his efforts, he couldn't keep his distance from you.

He should've known. When it came to you, Dexter didn't have a choice.

His gaze drifted over to your form as you sat down beside him. You were smiling, your eyes bright and focused on the television. A lock of hair fell across your face, and you pushed it back, the sleeve of your hoodie falling down slightly.

Dexter had never been so tempted to reach out and touch someone in his life.

It was a feeling that had been creeping up on him the last few weeks, and now, sitting with you, watching a bad movie, it was at an all-time high. He'd never craved intimacy. But there was something about you, a pull that he couldn't deny.

It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Reminded him of that need with Lila. God, Lila. What a mess that had turned out to be. Another thing to add to his growing list of mistakes.

And yet, the longer he stared, the more he found himself leaning forward. He didn’t register what he was doing until his lips were a hair width away from yours.

You froze but didn't move away. The only indication that you were startled was the widening of your eyes. They bored into his, unflinching. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He was scared. Scared? Yes. That was what he was feeling. Why? He didn't know. Fear was new. It was a feeling reserved for Deb and sometimes his son, but even then, it was different.

But as Dexter gazed at you, so close and so beautiful, the fear melted away. It was replaced by a warmth that he was quickly becoming familiar with. It made his body thrum and his blood rush. It made him feel alive.

You were the first one to make a move. Well, not really a move, just the smallest shift forward, and then you were breathing the same air as him. You weren't kissing. You were just… waiting. Waiting for him to make the final move.

It was like an unspoken rule between the two of you, the power dynamic. He was the dominant one, and you were the submissive. You had never fought against it. You were a people pleaser, and he knew that.

It was one of the reasons he knew this was wrong. Because he couldn't stop, and you would never ask him to. Even now, as he hesitated, you waited patiently. You trusted him.

Why did you have to trust him? Why couldn't you be more selfish, more like him?

But deep down, Dexter knew that it wasn't your nature. You couldn't change, not any more than he could.

So, after another agonizing second, he closed the distance between you.

It was gentle, the way his lips pressed against yours. A stark contrast to the usual forcefulness he applied when taking his victims. No, with you, he was careful. Almost timid.

Your lips were soft and smooth, and the kiss was sweet. Nothing more than a simple caress. Dexter didn’t expect the tingling sensation it would cause, but the slight brush of your mouth sent shivers down his spine.

The kiss was short and chaste, but it was enough to leave him feeling dizzy. The heat spread through him, from the tips of his toes all the way to his cheeks.

Dexter pulled back, and you stared at him. His breath hitched in his throat at the look in your eyes. There was something there, something that mirrored his own emotions.

Was it possible? Was he really capable of such intense emotion?

Maybe he was.

You didn’t move. It was like time had stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was his own uneven breathing. That, and the movie playing in the background, which was forgotten as soon as your lips touched.

The urge to reach out and grab you was there. He could feel the need deep in his bones, in his soul. But instead, Dexter sat, staring. Staring into the eyes of the woman who had somehow managed to break down all the walls he'd spent his life building.

You didn't speak. There was nothing to say. No words could describe the feelings that had surfaced between the two of you. So, instead, you smiled. A simple, beautiful smile that had him feeling weak.

He could have stayed there forever, just looking at you, taking in the beauty that was you. It was a new experience for him, and it was nice.

“Debra is going to be pissed," you finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be bullied into telling her every detail."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then, his lips curled up in amusement. It was true. Eventually, she’ll figure it out. Maybe she already knew but was waiting for confirmation. Debra was good at figuring out things, even if it wasn’t the most obvious answer.

His sister was good at a lot of things, like being a detective. And, apparently, being an interfering matchmaking nuisance.

At least she wouldn’t call you the things she called Lila.

The thought made him chuckle, and you looked at him in confusion, but it would have to stay a mystery to you. For what was life without a few private jokes between siblings, right?

You didn’t press for answers, though. You did what you’ve always done and waited for him—waited for him as if it was his turn in Chess.

And he did the only thing he could think to do. He kissed you again. And again. And again. And again. Until he had you pinned beneath him, your arms around his neck, and your breath coming out in heavy gasps.

The kisses were still innocent, just as you were. But he could feel the passion behind them, the hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that. It had been a long, long time.

But the longer he kissed you, the more the heat grew, and soon, he was lost in the sensation. Your hands found their way into his hair, and you tugged at the strands. His heart was racing, and the sound of his own ragged breathing filled his ears.

It was exhilarating.

Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside, and the innocence was gone. Replaced by a desire that left him trembling. The feeling of your tongue against his, the taste of you on his lips, the smell of your shampoo mixed with your unique scent—it was all intoxicating.

The movie continued to play in the background, forgotten as you pulled him closer. The warmth in his chest intensified, and Dexter didn't fight it. Instead, he embraced it. He gave in to his emotions and let himself feel.

He didn’t go too far; he knew you weren't ready for that yet. The craving was there, and it was strong, but the moment wasn’t right. Instead, he satisfied himself by touching your skin, mapping out every inch of it, memorizing the way it felt under his fingertips.

And, when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, he held onto you, refusing to let go. His eyes searched yours, searching for something. Anything. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he didn’t find it.

He mostly saw fear, anger, and some regret when he had them pinned down beneath him. Of course, that was usually the case with his victims. Fear, anger, and regret were normal emotions—a reaction to being trapped by their own demise.

Having someone look up at him with emotions on the other side of the spectrum was different. Not a bad different, just... different.

Rita had been the first to look at him like that. Lumen did, too, once upon a time. And Lila, well, her emotions were never consistent.

But you? You looked up at him with an expression that was all too familiar and yet not quite the same. Your eyes were full of affection and desire, yes. But they were also filled with something else. Something he couldn't place.

Something he couldn’t understand.

"Dex,” your voice was so soft, a whisper. He almost didn’t hear it, and yet, he felt it. He felt the way his name rolled off your tongue, and it was like music to his ears.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. He didn’t know why he did that; it wasn't like the two of you were speaking in a library or something. Maybe it was the way the light danced in your eyes, the way the colors reflected off the white walls, casting an ethereal glow.

"I didn’t expect you to be… like this," you murmured. You ran a finger over his cheek, down to his jawline. He swallowed thickly. He could feel his pulse quicken.

"Like what?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Not bad," you replied. Your lips curved up, and his eyes were drawn to them. They were red and swollen from kissing, and it was such a contrast to the pale skin of your face.

"You think I'm not bad?" he said, raising his brows. "I'm flattered."

You shook your head. "You know what I mean," you said. "I just meant that you're different than how you come off. I didn’t think you'd be so... bold.”

He snorted.

Bold.

If you only knew.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," he said, smirking. You rolled your eyes and punched him lightly in the shoulder, only for him to catch it and press a kiss to the back of your hand. It was something he picked up from a movie once, and it seemed to be a pretty romantic gesture. And by the look on your face, it seemed to be appreciated.

You didn't say anything else. You didn't have to. There was nothing else to say. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company, content to just be together. The movie might've been a failure, but the night wasn’t.

And when Dexter finally left, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Not the type of relief he felt after a successful kill, but the type of relief one feels after a burden is lifted off their shoulders. The type of relief one gets when they are finally honest with themselves.

Rita was gone. Lumen was gone. And although his guilt and shame were still there, his self-loathing and fear were slowly starting to fade away. It wasn't gone, it was never going to be, but it was a start.

A fresh start.

A new beginning.

A new moon.

Yes, tonight was the night that changed everything. Tonight, Dexter Morgan learned that maybe he was more than the monster he thought he was.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I wanna see what’s Ace’s family’s reaction when they found out Ace is dating reader Heheheh

I decided to have only Ace's brother present, since Mr. and Mrs. Trappola have yet to receive strong characterization.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

The Trappola brothers sat across from one another upon red velvet chairs, and you, between them. They were both intently focused on building a house of playing cards—a task that Ace had warned took “serious patience, coordination, and a gentle touch.” (You had rolled your eyes and responded, “Great. You let me know when you’ve found someone that has all that.”)

Ace carefully laid a Two of Spades down, formed a triangle with a Three of Clubs and a Four of Diamonds. His hand slowly retreated, and the triangle stayed. He expelled a sigh, directed away from the cards so as to not disturb them.

You would have clapped for him, but Ace had discouraged you before the game had even started. So instead, you tapped your index and middle fingers together. Still giving applause, but not nearly enough to rattle the house of cards.

“Your move.”

“Huh, you’ve gotten better at this,” his brother mused. He toyed with an Ace of Hearts, expertly twirling it between dexterous fingers. “Too bad. I was really looking forward to smoking you in front of your new friend.”

“In your dreams,” Ace sneered, passing you a glance. “The last thing I’d want is to look uncool in front of my partner.”

His brother drew himself up in his seat. The card in his hand, stilling. “Your partner? Since when were you two a thing?”

“Oh, you know… since a while ago,” Ace casually replied. “And honestly, I can’t really blame’m. Who wouldn’t fall for my dashing good looks and roguish charm? I’m a catch!”

His brother regarded you with an almost pitying look. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he advised.

You burst into laughter. "I think I'm good. Ace is an idiot, but he's at least my idiot."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you've got a sense of humor. You'll need that if you're going to put up with Ace all of the time. Congrats, you passed the first test."

"Whaddya mean 'put up with' me?!" Ace protested, puffing up his cheeks. A pout--adorable, you think.

"I mean it exactly how I said it. It's practically a full-time job dealing with you," his brother replied cheekily. "You gotta prepare people for it, or else they won't know what they've signed up for."

"Oh, come on! You're making me sound way worse than I actually am."

"This, coming from the guy who ghosted his ex?" He smirked, and you could see the family resemblance in it. The slight narrowing of the eyes, the way his mouth angled. "I dunno, I was half expecting you to stay single forever after that royal screw-up, lil' bro. You're lucky you found someone willing to take you~"

Pink exploded onto Ace's cheeks. "H-Hey...!" he hissed, leaning toward his brother. "Did you seriously have to bring that up?! Have a little more tact, will ya?!"

The older Trappola grinned. "Gotcha."

You realized why.

Ace's sudden movement had sent a slight breeze against the card house. It wobbled from top to bottom--then the structure collapsed in on itself, the cards all folding into one another. Within seconds, the house was a pile on the coffee table.

Ace fell to his knees with a pathetic wail, scrambling to salvage his hard work. His brother looked on, chuckling. A card, still in his hand.

"I didn't place mine yet," he declared triumphantly, "and since you made the house fall, it's technically my win!"

"Y-You sneaky...! You taunted me on purpose!!"

"Yeah, and it worked like a charm." He flicked Ace on the forehead. "You were too busy trying to flex in front of your S/O. It was easy to take advantage of that. You always were a cocky, predictable brat."

"Grrrrr..!!"

"Ace, it's fine," you soothed him, a hand on his arm. "You did your best. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

"Tch, there you go being all sappy again... You're so lame sometimes," Ace grumbled--but he covered your hand with his. A small gesture, but a reassuring one.

"Hahah, look at you two lovebirds," his brother teased, wagging a finger at you. Then he reached out and roughly ruffled Ace's hair, despite his complaints and attempts to swat him away. "Happy for you though, lil' bro! You gotta tell me how this love story started--"

[drdemonprince]

how do you get started as a new dom? it feels hard to be sure of yourself when you’re unsure of yourself

You really gotta get the theatrics of it all to work for you.

Use a blindfold. If your sub can't see where you are or what you're doing, their imagination will run wild and they'll find even the smallest touch or action from you to be vastly more exciting. And since they can't see you, you've bought yourself time to think, wander around, and plan your next move.

Use time and setting to your advantage. Be sensual and methodical in getting your sub handcuffed or tied up. Start with simple tools that you know how to use and have practiced with at home, and really draw out the process of getting the sub into position. If you're into impact rather than bondage, bend them over with a broad, warm palm on their back and trace the backs of their thighs. Don't move too quickly. This will hide a lot of your jitters and make everything more intense.

Don't be afraid to ask questions, check in, and remark at what works and what doesn't -- just do not do so in a self-deprecating way. If a command or a gesture just doesn't land in the way that you thought that it would, do not become crestfallen. That a Dom can instantly read their sub's every desire and reaction is just a fantasy. Think of yourself as a scientist who has a brand-new creature under observation. You may find that your sub adores tickling (or hates it), that a hot breath on their neck makes them squeal (or does nothing at all). Every specimen is unique and part of the pleasure is the exploration of their body and testing out their reactions. It's boring and unsexy to have a routine set of moves. Be responsive and curious rather than rote.

Find what you love about Dominance. Do you like fighting to subdue a bratty sub? Or do you prefer a docile good boy/girl/thing that will melt like butter under your touch? Are you handsy? Do you like controlling your sub's every movement, posing them like a doll? Or do you want to see yourself issuing commands and receiving service? Remember that your pleasure matters a great deal and will get the sub going, and orient a lot of your moves around that. Have your sub orally service you or make you a coffee or give you a massage. All kinky play is a negotiation between all parties' desires and limits. Make sure to inject yourself into what's happening -- and into your sub's behaviors and their frame of mind.

Don't worry too much about putting on a fake Dom voice or embodying a persona -- far too many newbie Doms think they need to speak in a deep and emotionless register and have everything figured out. It's far more alluring to be more human. Some people's Dominance looks like the way a proud cat mom talks to her pets. Other people are silly and playful like DeeDee from Dexter's Laboratory torturing her little brother. You can be a primal, snarling creature, a princess upon a throne, or a world-weary worker who takes out their daily frustrations on their living sex toy. Find what feels natural to you because then it will be easier to continue to embody your dominance as the situation evolves and unexpected things come up.

A note on finding partners: It can be difficult to find good submissive when you are an inexperienced Dom, because people understandably want to be placed into safe and competent hands. Try not to take this personally, and keep focusing on building up your skills, which you are entirely in control of. Take a class on shibari or impact. Get some toys. Visit a dungeon and ask questions. Befriend other Dominants and do some service to the broader community, so that you have people you can tap for advice and mentorship.

Once you have established yourself as a familiar face in the scene, then you can work on finding experienced subs who know what they like and can show you the ropes. Newbie Doms sometimes get intimidated by experienced subs, worrying that they cannot possibly match the intensity of those subs' prior sexual encounters-- but this is entirely the wrong way to look at it. Experienced subs know what they like and are experts at entering a submissive headspace. It will be easier to get them to respond to you than a completely unseasoned sub who's head is also not in the moment because they're filled with nerves. Working with someone who is older or more seasoned than you is not a threat to your Dominance. A new rider should start with a very well-trained horse, and doing so will help bolster the rider's confidence.

Have fun out there!

[dayo-seign]

I didnt think Id make a Dexter version but now I did, I am living for Daring just third wheeling his siblings like the good big brother he is

[fever-fluff]

Take my Hand

Synopsis: Azriel really wants to hold your hand, but he's afraid that he'll hold it too tight.

(I've been obsessed with writing something that focuses on Azriel's hands. Because of how it was too late to save his hands when his brother's burned him, I'm wondeirng if he ever had to relearn things when they finally healed himself.)

Word Count: 2k(Not Proof Read)

Sometimes he had wished he had burned in the blaze of heat centuries ago, that the months of relearning how to make a fist with his fingers and then splay them wide again hadn’t tunnelled itself so far into his memory that he could still feel the anger, pain and frustration of not being able to do what infants could. But the years had rolled on, one into another and even with all the Illyrian healing in the world, Azriel would never be able to go back to a time where his hands were just… hands.

He was supposed to meet you today, outside the little bookstore you and Nesta frequented so many times you knew it better than your own rooms. That was an hour ago. But the pains that sparked from his fingers up through his arm had left him twitching so uncontrollably that he couldn’t even lift the cup from its saucer this morning without the tea sloshing over the sides.

He could hear Madja’s hum of disaproval in the back of his mind as he changed his hands from the almost boiling water in one bowl to the icy cold in another. He’d been slacking on the regiments she’d given him all those years ago. With the dexterity he needed to wield his blades, Azriel was supposed to vigilantly keep up with the hot and cold baths and rigorous stretches and ointments so he wouldn’t lose their complete cooperation, but in the past few months he’d avoided them to no end.

If he were being honest with himself, it had started much earlier than that. Seeing so many round him now that didn’t fail in menial bodily functions had left him feeling lesser than, so he’d reduced his routine week by week, then day by day, until he’d relied solely on what his body could do to stop his hands seizing up. What an idiot he was.

The twitching had finally ceased, but his hands had locked into a half-made fist and he grunted with frustration, asking the house to send a bowl of melted wax so he could attempt to bend his fingers back to where they should be.

Submerging one, he began to think of you. Had you left? Or were you still standing outside the sage green door with the potted plants littering the entrance, wondering if he’d stood you up? It had been too long for you to think he was running late, and he cursed himself to Hel.

He’d imagined your first outing over and over again since you’d said yes a week ago. How he’d fly down to you, no Illyrian leather in sight, instead complimenting your dress his shadows had described perfectly with the slacks and shirt he’d chosen after tearing at his hair all morning. He wouldn’t bring any flowers, remembering your distaste for uprooting harmless fauna and instead he’d offer you something hot to drink to keep you warm in the crisp air of the afternoon. You’d smile and thank him, asking if he was ready to go inside and he’d grab you hand, giving it a kiss as he hummed his yes. He wouldn’t let it go the entire time you scanned the bookshelves. Until you’d finally begin choosing your reads for the coming days and he’d offer to carry them for you, holding them securely imaging it was you instead. Once you were finished, he’d hold the bag of books in one hand, while reaching with his other and lacing your fingers together. The day would carry on much the same, and his hands would always be there, either at your waist or your own, always making sure you were still by his side – that he was not imagining any of it.

But that’s all it was in the end – his imagination. His hands were no good for soft touches. He was always grabbing things too lightly or too tight, never just right. They showed him for the brute he was, that he was not meant for delicate things like you.

Slowly bending the first of his fingers back, Azriel heard the slightest rap of knuckles on his door, and he announced himself before he even thought to check who it was. But the soft footsteps he had become so used to picking out over the rest of his loud family had his head snapping up to face the opened door and see you, a small smile on your face with sad eyes. “Is this a bad time?”

His wing barely missed tipping the bowl of wax on the floor as he spun to face you, hiding it and his once again shaking hands behind his back as he called your name in surprise. Shadows flitted around him, making for your figure in the door and swirling at your feet. Their movements displaced the fabric of your dress, the skirt of it flowing with the black tide. You looked so much more than beautiful, blowing whatever his imagination had conjured up earlier out through the open window. All Azriel could find himself thinking of was how soft you looked when you filled the stretching silence once again with your voice. “I was worried. You didn’t show and I thought Rhys might have called you away. But when he said he hadn’t seen you since breakfast, well… I really didn’t know what to think.”

“I -” Gods, why did his own words have to fail him now? “I have no excuse for leaving you to wait. I’m sorry.”

You nodded, “Apology accepted. But Az, if you didn’t want to join me this morning, you could’ve told me. I didn’t want to make you feel like you had no choice but to hide away in you ro-”

“I wasn’t hiding! I – I wanted to come, truly, I just…” Azriel sighed as he placed his hands back in front of him, the shaking and curling fingers on full display in front of you. “I’ve tried everything, but none of it’s working. I just, I wanted today to be perfect, but I should’ve known it would be me that ruined it.”

There was no gasp of surprise as he’d imagined when you inevitably found out about his lacking. Only Rhys and Cass were privy to his condition, Feyre, her sisters, even Mor had been left in the dark for years now on his request. But you had slowly walked toward him and now reached for his hand to peel the hardened shell of wax back, dropping it into the rest.

Guiding him to the bed, he sat and watched as you silently picked up vial after vial of oil on his dresser, putting them down as you read each label until you found what you were looking for.

He said nothing as you tipped some of it into your hands, rubbing them together to warm them after being out in the biting cold for an age, all thanks to him. You reached for his, only stopping to ask him a simple ‘may I?’ before he agreed, and you took his right hand in between your delicate fingers.

Slowly, you pressed and kneaded the aching skin and muscles, setting the fingers that refused to move back with careful movements. It was tediously long, one of the treatments that he avoided almost all of the time because his own could never fix the problem. But you never complained, never tired from the repetitive nature of it once. When the shakes had finally eased, and his fingers could once again flex and move with little stiffness, you moved to his left; using the same care and diligence on it as you did the first. It must have been a couple hours before you finally retracted your hands from his, resting them in you lap as you smiled up at him. “There. Any better?”

Azriel felt the first drop hit his cheek and roll down until it fell, the rest soon following. “Where did you learn to do that?” He couldn’t tear his eyes form yours, even when his vision blurred from the tears. You had done something no one ever had. After everything he had done – leaving you to wait, sending no word of why, then sitting here with you like a buffoon as you tended and cared for him as no one else had. How could you still look at him like that, with so much warmth?

You blushed under the question, “I asked Madja to show me, in case you needed help when no one else could do it.”

He bristled, no no no no no. “Did Rhys tell you? Did Cassian?!” He’d kill them, he’d kill them both for putting you here. But you waved you hands in denial of his words. “No. No! I – I just thought that it would be something you might need… you know? I know that Illyrian healing is one of the most potent there is, so for your hands to be so scarred, I just thought that maybe it wasn’t all surface level…” Your voiced had filtered out as you finished explaining, but Azriel couldn’t even believe the words that had reached his ears.

You had gone to Madja, or your own choosing, to ask for something no one else had thought of in the time they had known him. “You did this for me?”

“Well, yea. You’re always taking care of me. I just wanted to take care of you sometimes, because I know its nice to receive it. So why shouldn’t I return the fav- ”

Azriel hadn’t even let you finish before he’d moved to place his lips on yours, stealing the intake of breath you’d taken in surprise. He was right, you were soft, and delicate, and just, everything. He moved his now still hands to hold you as he wanted to this afternoon – wrapping one round your waist as the other placed itself to cup your neck. You preened as he pulled you closer, legs tangling slightly and your own hands, the ones which had cared for him so wonderfully, reached for the front of his shirt and pulled on the fabric to bring him impossibly closer. You were incredibly open to him, inviting everything he gave you with warmth and just as much delight as he did. it was impossible to pull away from you, and even as he gained the strength to do so you had chased his mouth with a slight nip to his lower lip. His hum swallowed by you, tongue teasing the seam of his mouth until he opened up just as much as you had, and he became engulfed by you once again.   

This time it had been you who pulled to break away from him. He forced himself not to follow as you had done earlier, opening his eyes and finding yours already looking at him. Your cheeks had flushed, and he noticed that somehow you had come to sit on his lap, legs tossed to the side while your dress pooled around you both. He supposed he looked no better, even less so with the grip he had on your waist and neck. But you didn’t seem to mind. Not at all as he worked the skin underneath in a silent apology to sooth whatever pressure he had inflicted.

“Thank you”

Your eyes closed at his words and touch, leaning forward to peck his lips one more time. “Anytime, Shadowsinger. Anytime.”

He should ask to redo your missed outing this morning, should apologise one more time for leaving you to wait. But with the way you had curled into him, Azriel pushed his thoughts back. He’d make it up to you later, he promised himself. He just wanted to hold you for a little while longer.

[devildomcuties]

Obey Me: Perfect Hands [Younger Demon Brothers]

🕷 pairing: younger demon brothers x gn!reader

🕷 genre: established relationship, 18+

🕷 summary: something about your demon’s hands drives you wild.

🕷 wc: 3k

🕷 warnings: pet names (kitten, love, pretty, cupcake, babe, moon), pillow humping, lots of finger sucking/fucking, biting, choking, mention of bruising, rimming, mirror sex, some manhandling, use of a silk tie as a blindfold briefly, use of a bullet vibrator, cum eating, masturbation (m), a little degradation, food mention

🕷 date: September 16, 2024

Satan

Satan sat on his bed with a thick book in his lap. You sat beside him, an open coloring book in front of you. 

You had spelled his bedroom to keep out any unnecessary noise from his brothers, allowing your boyfriend to read in peace. Only important messages would get through, for example, if the house was on fire or Lord Diavolo called a meeting. Something of the sort. 

Slowly, Satan turns the page, pausing to grab his kitten bookmark to mark his place. 

“It’s so stuffy in here,” he complains as he takes his shirt off. He remains in a pair of green plaid pajama bottoms as he gets comfortable in his bed with his book resting on his chest. 

You try not to drool over his physique but you’ve failed so far. You had tried to curve your attention away from Satan by coloring but all you had done was write your initials in little hearts on any blank space on the sheet in front of you. 

It would only be a matter of time before Satan noticed. 

Sighing, you focus on finishing the shading for the image in your book. You kick your legs back and forth as you hum quietly. You’ve taken an oversized tee from Satan’s closet to wear, opting for a relaxing day in bed but you won’t lie, you’ve become distracted by your boyfriend time and time again. 

Today, it’s his dexterous fingers that get you going. How pretty his hands are, how delicious they look gripping the book while his intense gaze is focused on the tome in front of him. His veins become more noticeable as he holds the book with one strong hand, using the other to turn the page. 

Satan appears oblivious as he reads the text, not noticing when you shut your coloring book and put it in a drawer with some of your belongings.

You watch Satan for a while, heat pooling in your abdomen as you watch him intently. 

It’s not until you’re rocking your hips into a pillow, mewling softly that Satan looks up from his book. His brow is raised in question as he looks over at you, puzzled. 

“S-sorry,” you stutter as you continue to grind on one of his pillows, unable to stop as flashes of last night hit you. 

Satan’s fingers in your mouth as you drool on his sheets, his chest pressed to your back as he calls you his good kitten. 

Satan smirks as he shuts his book, setting it aside for later. It is you that requires his attention now. 

“Pretty kitten, just what do you think you’re doing?” He questions as he drums his fingers in front of you. 

A whine escapes you as you meet his gaze for a split second before they focus on his lithe fingers once more. 

Chuckling, Satan grabs your chin with one hand, making you look up at him. 

“I asked you a question, kitten. Answer it,” he demands as he releases you. 

You don’t cease your movements, only grind further into the pillow as Satan climbs off the bed to settle between your legs instead. He lifts your hips higher, adjusting the pillow under your hips to raise your angle. 

“I don’t like being ignored, love,” he whispers as he presses his erection against your ass. You curse, moaning his name as he rubs himself against you.

Satan leans over you, his bare chest pressed to your back as he takes your lobe between his teeth. His hand wraps around your throat for a moment, your ass rubbing on his clothed cock, in hopes of tempting him to bury himself inside you. 

“So needy,” Satan huffs a laugh as he releases your throat. He raises the cotton material of the shirt you’re wearing, easily discarding it on his bedroom floor. He’s not surprised to see you naked underneath as you seek some form of stimulation; either from him or his pillow. 

Satan is slow with his movements. His hands rub down the length of your back before settling on your hips. He grips them tightly, nearly bruising them as he spreads you open and spits in your hole. 

“Fuck, Satan,” you groan as your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel his tongue circling your entrance. You grip the sheets, your thighs trembling as Satan teases you with his tongue just to listen to the sweet cries that leave your pretty lips. 

“It’d be so easy to slide my cock inside you, kitten. Make you drool on my fingers while I fuck you full. Do you want that?” Satan smirks as you cry out his name, nearly fucking yourself on his face in search of pleasure. 

You snap your fingers and a mirror appears on the side of his bed, giving you a clear view of your boyfriend as his hands grip you to pull you closer. His gaze meets yours in the mirror, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he swirls his tongue around your hole to make you squirm. 

You knew you were in for a long, long night.

Asmo

Asmo had done your nails on his livestream. He had painted his nails himself this morning but he wanted you to match him. 

“Should we add hearts?” You ask once the livestream ends. You look at Asmo’s hands, trying not to drool over them as he takes your hand in his. 

Asmo’s hands were smooth, perfectly manicured, and perfect for groping you. 

“Hon, are you even paying attention to me?” Asmo asks as he laces your fingers with his. “You weren’t, right?”

You shake your head, smiling bashfully. You avoid his intense gaze. Asmo giggles, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“What’s got you so distracted, pretty?” Asmo asks as he gently grips your chin with his fingers. You lock eyes with him, biting your bottom lip. Asmo slowly releases your lip from your teeth, running his thumb over it afterward.

“This is mine to bite,” he murmurs as he presses his thumb to your lip. You eye him curiously as he leans forward to claim your lips with his. You kiss him back slowly at first, allowing him to deepen the kiss when his hands grip your face and his tongue meets yours.

Asmo moans when he tastes you, his teeth biting your bottom lip before he sucks it. You moan his name, grabbing his chest, clawing his skin as you fall back onto the mattress with him on top of you.

“Fiesty,” he chuckles as he leans over you, kissing your lips, cheeks, and jaw, then trails kisses to your neck.

“Asmo,” you moan his name in an angelic tone that makes his cock throb. He shuts his eyes, trying to hold himself back from devouring you whole.

“What is it, pretty? What do you need from me?” Asmo asks as he takes his shirt off. He kneels between your legs before he wraps his hand around your ankle to pull you toward him. You giggle when you’re dragged to the end of the bed. 

His show of strength makes your blood run hot as he moves you to the edge of the bed. Asmo climbs off the bed with a teasing grin, grabbing a silk tie to wrap around your eyes while you wait. 

“Perfect,” Asmo announces before he climbs onto the bed. The mattress dips beside you and then behind you as Asmo sits with his legs on either side of yours. He gently helps you out of your shirt, tossing it to the bedroom floor.

Asmo is careful as he undoes the silk blindfold, tossing it to the side. You’re surprised to see a mirror placed in front of the bed. Asmo is nonplused as he pulls you into his chest. His hands run up one arm and then the other. His lips plant kisses from one shoulder to the other while you watch in the mirror.

His beautiful hands explore every bit of your body available to him before he helps you out of your bottoms. Asmo licks his lips as he watches your chest rise and fall with each breath. Anticipation builds inside you. Your eager eyes follow the movement of his hands until he reaches for something in his pants pocket.

A small buzz fills your ears as Asmo lifts the small black vibrator to your lips. “Open up for me, hon. Just like you did the last time.”

You moan, your tongue greeting the vibrator as it gets pressed to your lips. Asmo meets your gaze in the mirror, his lips by your ear. “So good for me, pretty. Always so good.”

“Asmo,” you moan his name as he fucks the vibrator into your mouth until you’re drooling on it and his fingers. He moves the vibrator downward, pressing it to your nipple. You curse, falling into him as your fingers lace with his free hand.

Asmo allows you to squirm against him as he teases you with the silicone toy. “That’s it, hon.”

Your eyes roll back as Asmo wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing the sides gently. “It takes so little to get you so riled up for me.”

You whine, giggling when he moves the vibrator between your legs. His gaze darkens as he watches you shake when he presses it against you. Your hand grips his thigh, biting back a moan as you watch as his hand moves the vibrator between your legs. 

His beautiful hands capture your attention, his veins prominent as he goes, whispering filthy things into your ear until you’re clenching your thighs and arching into him. 

“Don’t hold back, pretty. Let me see you cum,” Asmo smirks as he turns the vibration up higher and higher until you’re gasping for air, your body going rigid for a moment as a wave of pleasure washes over you, soaking Asmo’s hand with your release.

Asmo giggles. He lifts his fingers to his lips, his tongue swirling around them before he moans at how delicious they taste.

“My turn, hon,” Asmo sings as he lays you down on his bed, climbing on top of you to kiss you. The vibrator hums between your bodies.

Beel

Massive. 

That’s the first word that came to your mind when you thought of your boyfriend, Beel. His broad shoulders, tapered waist, and huge cock made your mouth water. You were insatiable when it came to him. You could eat him up; for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

If you asked Beel how he felt about you, he’d probably say the same.

At the moment, Beel was in your bedroom sitting at your desk with a gallon of milk and an array of your favorite cookie from the human realm. 

“So many flavors!” Beel exclaims as he admires the towers he’s built out of cookies. “There’s peanut butter, strawberry, cinnamon, birthday cake, fudge dipped, chocolate, mint, red velvet, lemon and pistachio!”

“Beel,” you sigh frustrated as you watch your boyfriend split apart a cookie, lick the cream, and dunk the leftovers in his glass of milk.

You focus on his fingers as he slides them into his mouth to suck the excess milk off. He doesn’t notice you staring as he reaches for another cookie while you melt into a puddle. 

Once Beel devours every cookie and downs every last drop of milk, he takes you to his bedroom where he brushes his teeth. You lie on his bed, rolling around in it to inhale his scent. 

Belphie is missing from the bedroom but you’re sure he’s napping somewhere in the house, perhaps under a desk or a hidden corner. You don’t worry about him much as you wrap yourself in Beel’s sheets. 

Beel joins you on his bed. He sits on the edge before he reaches for a dumbbell. Was he going to work out while you were on his bed waiting for him to make a move?!

“Nine… ten,” Beel grins as he switches hands.

Your eyes are glued to his hands trailing upward to his rippling biceps. This was absolute torture. How were you expected to sit on the sidelines while his large hands held the dumbbell and his muscles shined with sweat? You wanted to trace the prominent veins from his hands to his shoulders. You press your thighs together as you watch him. His orange nails look so pretty as he sets the weight down on the floor. He clenched his hands a few times before you threw yourself at him. 

“Whoa!” He exclaims in surprise as he catches you at the last moment. 

You take his hand in yours, smiling when his fingers lace with yours. He squeezes your hand and smiles. 

“What’s got you jumping into my arms like that, Cupcake?” Beel asks as he helps you settle into his lap. 

Your hands roam over his broad shoulders. You easily help him out of his jacket and shirt. Beel falls back onto the bed. 

Your lips press kisses to his neck and chest and end on his hips. Beel watches you curiously as you undo his belt, his pants, and zipper. His cock is hard when you tug his pants down with his boxers. 

Beel chuckles at your eagerness, easily pulling you to him to kiss you. You moan softly, his tongue meeting yours. Your hands grip a handful of his hair as he grabs your hips. You grind on him, moaning when his cock presses against you. 

Slowly, Beel sets you beside him. You strip down to your underwear as he strokes his cock. You bite your lip as you watch him, unsure of where to focus, his face, his hands, or his cock. 

Beel smirks when you lick your lips. You want to reach for him but you’re somewhat dazed by how his large hand strokes his cock. His hands are so pretty, the veins prominent, and you ache to suck on his fingers. 

“Fuck,” Beel curses as he goes faster. You crawl towards him, spitting on the head of his dick to aid him. He groans, reaching out for you with his other hand. You kiss him, muffling his moans of your name as he cums shortly after. 

You watch as his fingers get coated in thick ropes of cum. You giggle as you take one of his hands and lick each finger clean. Beel watches you with lustful eyes. He waits until you’ve had your fill before he gets you underneath him. Easily, he kisses his way down your body, sucking and biting on your skin until he settles between your thighs. 

“My turn, Cupcake.”

Belphie

“Two eggs,” Belphie murmurs to himself as he looks at the recipe book sitting beside his mixing bowl. You sit on the counter, watching him as he grabs the eggs from the fridge. 

Your eyes are focused on his hands. He rolls up the sleeves of his jacket and heads to the sink to wash his hands. He dries them thoroughly before he grabs two eggs out of the carton. 

Belphie can feel the heat of your gaze on him but he ignores it. He was exhausted. You had kept him up most of the night by riding him or grinding your ass against him. He loved it, but now he was tired and it was his turn to bake the cake for dessert tonight. Part of him wishes he’d ordered one ahead at the local bakery. How was he supposed to know you’d end up having a fuck-a-thon the night before?

“Quit staring,” Belphie huffs as he holds the egg in his hand, ready to crack it open against the edge of the counter.

“I’m not staring,” you answer innocently as you kick your feet back and forth. 

Belphie rolls his eyes as he cracks the first egg, ignoring the way you stare at him. His mind flashes to last night’s events. From his hands gripping your hair to his hand wrapped around your throat while he fucked you into his mattress. You’d cried out for him so sweetly. 

Sighing, he grabs the second egg. This one is messier when he cracks it, the egg white sticks to his fingers as he splits it open the rest of the way into the mixing bowl. 

“Ugh! I hate when that happens,” he grumbles in annoyance. 

You watch his fingers, biting your lip as he goes to wash his hands once again. What were the chances of you getting fucked open on his fingers here in the kitchen?

Belphie dries his hands again before returning to the mixing bowl. He adds the rest of the ingredients and a whisk to blend them all. He notes the way you sigh dreamily, smiling as his hand moves faster and faster. 

He ignores you as he pours the cake batter into a baking pan and sticks it in the oven.  He sets the timer and cleans up the mess he’s made. 

“Belphie,” you say his name sweetly. He goes to you, his hands resting on your thighs. 

“You said you’d help me,” he pouts. “But all you did was stare at my hands.”

“I can’t help it,” you chuckle as you take his hands to kiss each of them. Belphie rolls his eyes in annoyance. 

“I should have asked someone else to help,” Belphie sighs. 

You ignore his petulant attitude. You take one of his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the fingertip. 

“Moon,” he warns as you take another one of his fingers in your mouth. He curses as he watches you, grinning when he moves the fingers out just to push them back in. You moan, gripping his wrist as he fucks your mouth with his fingers. He doesn’t understand your obsession with his hands but he enjoyed turning you on so easily. 

You drool over his fingers, moaning when his knuckles brush your lips. 

“Just a little whore for me, aren’t you?” Belphie smirks as you choke and he eases up. You moan, drooling on yourself before he takes his fingers out of your mouth and into his. He sucks them clean as you watch him, biting your bottom lip as tears pool in your eyes. 

“Don’t worry, babe. I have something else for you to suck,” he grins as he helps you off the counter to take you to his room after sending Levi a text to take the cake out of the oven.

[princessisfinethx]

Baby Fever

This post is inspired by all the babies running around my family right now. And also a comment I had gotten a while back about König being good with children. I don't know if I should tag them or not, would that be rude?

Warnings: Pure fluff, babies, Soft!König, baby fever König. Toddlers being toddlers. Established relationship.

König knew for certain he did not get baby fever easily. When he saw babies or kids, he would shrug and make a comment about how small they were or something. You were almost the same way, not wanting kids right now but couldn't help but adore the tiny babies and toddlers. You were dating for a while and agreed that kids were not an option right now. So, when you were asked to babysit for your brother and his wife, you asked König to come along to help you.

~~~

You warned König that your brother had two boys and one girl. The boys were 6 (twins) the girl was 1. König made a comment about weird age difference, and you replied, "They get baby fever a lot more often than you know. And they want a big family." He nodded and you added. "She's pregnant again too." Which made König's eyes widen.

When you both arrived there, the boys ran to you excitedly, screaming about their auntie being back. But they quieted when they saw König. The large male stares down at the twin boys, waiting to see what they'll do. The first boy walks up and crosses his arms. "Why are you so big?"

König crossed his arms as well. "Why are you so tiny?"

The second boy laughs. "You sound like a evil bad guy!" The boys take off running and you chuckle at them. You now had a small girl on your hip. She hid her face from König and you smiled, rubbing her back.

"She's a little shy, but her mom said she's due for a nap." You walked him inside just as your brother and a pregnant wife walked out, yelling to call them if you had any trouble. König followed you inside while taking in the interior of the house. You were rocking the girl, humming for her to sleep. "Do you think you can watch the boys while I try putting her down to bed?"

He nodded. König made sure that you couldn't see his nervousness at the thought of watching two boys. You left to go put the young girl to sleep and on que, the twins came running out with play swords. One boy raised his sword at König. "Prepare evil villain! For we will slay you!"

König put his hands up and glared. "Attacking me while I am unarmed? How unfair!" The boys giggled at his accent, and maybe perhaps König was making his accent heavier on purpose, but he wouldn't admit that aloud.

When the small girl, Ember, was asleep, you walked out to the living room to find it empty and the front door open. When you inspect that as well, you find König outside with the boys, Dexter and Derrel. König was kneeling in front of one of them and smearing mud over his cheeks, the other twin boy already being marked by what you assumed was pretend war paint.

You crossed your arms as you watched König stand, some war paint of his own painted messily across his face. He was talking to them but you couldn't hear them.

~

"Why do you sound so funny?" One of the boys with the missing bottom and top teeth asked him. The other boy was only missing a few of his top teeth.

"I am from Austria." König finished his face paint and nodded to himself.

The twin boys looked at each other and then asked separate questions.

"Did you meet Steve Irwin? He catches animals."

"Have you ever wrestled a kangaroo?"

"Do you have to kill spiders as big as your face?!"

"Is it true that you can eat kangaroo like chicken?"

König had frowned, knowing they would misunderstand the moment he said it. "No, boys, that is Australia. Austria is further away." He stands. "Now we can play evil bad guy that gets stopped by cool good guys." The boys were giggling excitedly, and he held his hand up. "But wait, first, I must do something bad." He spied you coming down the steps and nodded. He walks over to you and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder. "I have stolen your precious auntie, and she will be my prisoner!"

The boys screamed in a panic and rushed him, while you laughed and playfully screamed for help.

~~

A while later, while König and the boys played outside, you got a notification that the baby was awake. "I'll be right back, boys." You stand and walk to the house. When you left, the boy missing both his top/bottom teeth(Dexter) had looked at König.

"Are you going to marry our auntie?"

König thought about this and then answered. "I want to, but your auntie has to like me first. If she doesn't want to marry me, then I won't make her."

"Want me to ask her if she likes you?" He wiped his nose without a care in the world and König grinned.

"No, I am a big boy. I'll find out myself."

The other boy, Derrel, ran up to them while swinging his foam sword. "There's a girl in my class who kissed my friend Barry and it was gross!" He giggled. "Aren't you afraid girls have cooties?"

König chuckled. "I was told that girls and boys have cooties. Did you know cooties come from dirty kids who don't brush their teeth or wash their feet?" He watched the boys make faces, obviously not believing his statement.

You walked out the house with Ember on your hip, smiling down at her while speaking softly. When the boys saw them, Dexter walked up to you. "Emmy doesn't play right when we play games."

"Well, she's a baby, you know." You squat down and set the infant on a blanket laid out in the grass. "She doesn't know how to do much right now. You have to give her time to learn."

Derrel spoke next. "She sleeps a lot too."

König spoke up next. "Babies sleep a lot. When she was growing in your mommy's tummy, all she did was sleep. She was used to it, but now that she is out of your mommy's tummy, she has to get used to being awake. That's why she naps more than you two."

"Poor Emmy." One of them huffed, sitting beside the baby girl and giving her the foam sword which she took happily. "Ah! She has a weapon!"

"No! What have you done! She's unstoppable now!" König gasped dramatically and picked up the other sword. "I will defeat her!"

"No! That's my sister!" Dexter ran at König and jumped on his back. Following was Derrel, and König fell to the ground with a fake grunt of pain. You then picked up the baby girl and helped her walk over to the fallen König, where she screamed in some kind of excited baby scream. The twin boys yelled in victory while sitting atop the large fallen man. Ember held herself up on König's shoulder and he watched defeatedly as a line of drool fell on his face.

"Yack... I've been defeated."

~~~

After König won everyone over with his famous chocolate chip pancakes, everyone was settled down on the couch to watch Scooby-Doo. The boys have taken to sitting in König's arms and Ember played in her baby pin. When König said he never watched Scooby-Doo, the twins were excited to show and tell him all about the mystery-solving dog and the gang. And König was more than happy to listen to all of it. It was about an hour into the movie, and both boys had fallen asleep. König continued watching the movie. You took Ember in your arms and sat down beside them. "They really like you."

He perked up at this, looking over at you and grinning nervously at you and the baby. "You think so? I was nervous I would hurt them accidentally, or they would be scared of me." He watched as Ember reached for him and the Austrian man carefully moved his arm away from one of the boys to hold the small girl in his arms.

You had chuckled softly and laid your head back. "You're doing great with them. But I think those pancakes sealed the deal." You watched as the baby girl curiously poked and pulled at König's chin and lip. He poked his bottom lip out, then stuck his tongue at her. She watched in curiosity before doing the same thing, her hands slapping his face in excitement. You both laughed.

One of the boys woke up and moved over to you, laying his head in your lap and saying it was cold. You pull a blanket over him and gently ran your fingers through his messy hair. After he had fallen back asleep, you look up at König but find him entertaining the baby with his facial expressions.

~~~~

After you and König left, with sad goodbyes from the twins, you noticed how quiet your driver was. Looking up at him, you linked your hand in his free one, causing him to look over at you and interlock his fingers with yours. "What's on your mind?"

A lot. You, him, a family somewhere in the future, you with a wedding band on your left hand and a big belly carrying his child. He was staring forward at the road, and he sighed, a look of annoyance washed over his features. Should he tell you how he felt? What if you detest the idea of having kids with himm "The twins were so rowdy and annoying. Do all kids act that way?"

"Yes. Most of the time."

"And the baby girl, do all babies drool as much as her? It got on my face and my shirt."

"Yes." You watched him carefully, trying to figure out where he was going with this.

"Kids are filthy creatures. And clumsy. And a handful..." he brought the back of your hand up to his lips, holding your hand there for a moment. "And they cry for nothing."

"That's usually a toddler phase." You tilt your head. "König what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong Liebling..." He sighed almost defeatedly. "But I can't help but picture us with our own crazy little children... and I want that very much." He looked at you after stopping at a stoplight. "I know we are not ready for kids yet, and we are not married. But I saw the way you look at them, and how big you smile at them and I can't help but want that too, with our own babies." His eyebrows furrowed in thought while he pressed another kiss to your knuckles. "But, maybe that's wrong to dream only after a day of caring for children."

You sit up in your seat and move your hand to cup his face. "It's not wrong to dream König...it's called baby fever." You smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his nose.

"You would make the most perfect mommy," He says in a desperately soft voice as you press your lips to his nose. He cups your face so you look into his eyes. "I would be honored to be the father. The best father. Say the word Mein Liebling, and I will give you as many children as you desire."

:')

Don't come after me I just- I dunno.

[cosmicpuzzle]

3rd Lord in Houses

3rd Lord in 1st House

You have a strong initiative and courage to explore new ventures. You create your life through you own effort. It is more likely than not that you have younger sisters or brothers that play an important part in your life. There may be some complications with your health.

3rd Lord in 2nd House

It might be hard for you to assert yourself, to take initiative or to display courage, particularly in the field of self-expression and accumulation of resources. The reasons for your actions might not be clear to others, because you tend to hide your motives. Consequently, there might be some disruption in family life and your relationship with your siblings might be rather weak.

3rd Lord in 3rd House

You are assertive, motivated, non-hesitant and you take the initiative in many successful endeavors. Dexterity and skillfulness in crafts and arts are like second nature to you. There is a good relationship between you and your siblings, and your children will prove to open new opportunities for you, in terms of financial resources.

3rd Lord in 4th House

Your style of asserting yourself might be at its best within the realm of your home, in connection with the people that are closest to you. Self-effort might be closely connected to your sense of inner comfort. Your effort will also prove to be fruitful. Your siblings might have their income connected to real estate or agriculture of some kind.

3rd Lord in 5th House

You are very creative, although you can be quite 'tricky' at times. There is a strong interest in craft or artistic activities, like music, dance or other fields requiring manual dexterity. You may actually choose to educate yourself in an artistic field, or some field that closely fits your self-motivating styles. Playfulness, creativity, moral values and intelligence are qualities that should fit your siblings.

3rd Lord in 6th House

You may feel like you are constantly running into obstacles when you try to take an initiative of some kind. This may be a source of a great irritation for you. On the other hand, by running into obstacles, you may develop great problem-solving skills. And you may develop a liking for challenges. Your siblings may be a source of some obstacles or unhappiness in your life although that may improve with time.

3rd Lord in 7th House

You are a passionate individual who goes after the objects of his/her desire. You are inclined to be the one who takes the initiative in your relationships, so your desires might be the dominating force. The area of close one-to-one interactions is where you access your sense of assertiveness and courage. There is a liking for adventures and experiencing new things in a foreign country. You might, however, find yourself in the service of the governing powers.

3rd Lord in 8th House

It might be hard for you to assert yourself in a clean-cut way, because you have a tendency to hide your motives, and do things undercover. Your efforts of choice might be an exploration or research of some kind, some times to uncover something previously unknown. You might, however, have to face some difficulties and obstacles in your endeavors. You might have experienced a loss of a sibling in your life, or there might simply be some loss of communication with your brothers or sisters.

3rd Lord in 9th House

You are definitely skillful in one of the arts or crafts, a talent possibly inherited from your father. There is also a good deal of self-effort and courage that characterizes your life. The prime area of initiative in your life would be the field of higher knowledge and learning and consequently journeys related to that. However, the relationship with your father might be complicated.

3rd Lord in 10th House

You are a self-made individual who puts a great effort into creating your career and reputation. You are easily motivated to promote your skills when called on. The career that you choose is likely to be connected to your manual dexterity, artistic talent or even courage. There is a possibility that you get tempted to use secret measures to enhance your status and career.

3rd Lord in 11th House

You always like to seek out new avenues of experience and gain. There is a chance that you may find that your desires will be fulfilled as you help and motivate others to fulfill theirs. Your sibling(s) may prove to be the source of guidance and higher knowledge for you.

3rd Lord in 12th House

Many of your initiatives will prove to be ineffective or futile. Some way or another the effect of your effort may get dissolved or diffused, and consequently you may end up with results that you didn't strive for. It could prove good for you to sacrifice your efforts for the good of the collective. There is a possibility of a hearing disorder, and your siblings might suffer or experience isolation.

For Readings DM

[butterbabyflapjack]

✧˖° Brian Moser x serial killer fem!reader

✧˖° summary:

The Ice Truck Killer’s back in town, and somehow he's stuck babysitting you; Miami's newest would-be killer.

Helping you out wasn't at all his original intention–he'd rather see you dead, you know far too much–but he supposes he could spare an evening to undomesticate that hungry beast inside you. Show you how to really live your life.

In which Brian helps you kill someone who utterly deserves it, and the kill room turns into a horny sex-fueled bloodbath.

✧˖° wordcount (chapter 1): 5k

✧˖° chapters: one, two, three

✧˖° ao3

✧˖° warnings: serial killer fem!reader, reader insert, explicit sexual content, rough sex, passionate sex, fucking in a kill room, dark romance, dark comedy, canon typical depictions of blood and gore, enthusiastic consent, mutual pining, impact play, playing with your food, serial killers in love, banter, dirty talk, voice kink, trauma bonding, babysitting a serial killer, implied sexual abuse of a child (you're killing this mf don’t worry), torture (you’re torturing this mf don’t worry), Brian is his own warning, enemies to lovers, biting, daddy issues?, blood play, a bit of angst a dash of bloodlust & a heavy splash of spice, Brian loves to fluster you and he won't shut the hell up going about it, Brian survives season 1 in this house

✧˖° author's note:

This is ridiculous, horny, bloody, silly and dark (in essence, a very dark romantic comedy), so please heed the tags!

Starts after season 1, but with Brian escaping. Sorry if there’s any rough spots, I kinda rushed editing this.

ch.1 is from Brian’s POV, and the rest of the story is from yours. And there aren't nearly enough problematic female characters in the world so I'm making you one 😃

✧˖° chapter 1

Hello again, Miami. 

Didn’t think I’d see you again this soon.

What’s it been? Eight months? Since I was your most highly sought after criminal?

Guess I just couldn’t stay away.

Time flies when you’re laying low.

Guess I just missed you.

But really, my reason for coming back to dear old Miami–my home, both my real and spiritual birthplace–has a name, a life, and a face. Your name, if you’re really so curious. Your life. Your face. And I intend to leave what remains of all three of those things behind to the hungry bellies of gators before once more absconding stage left. 

But why, you might ask? Why do I want to kill you? Horrified, scandalized, even. For what reason had you to die by my skillful hand? And the answer to that is simple: death doesn’t need a reason. Death simply is, and I simply enjoy it. 

Though…

Regardless of that irrefutable fact…

I’ll admit. 

This particular death–your death–has a slightly more personal reason. And that reason, or at least its causation, was currently chit-chatting with me on the phone.

“Your plane lands at eight?” Dexter asked, and I didn’t waste time with a nod when he wouldn’t see it. Simply staring out across the coast of Costa Rica, the sunset reflected within the dark shadow of my gaze.

Costa Rica… and I’d really wanted to retire somewhere cold.

Not that this was retirement.

It was more of an… unplanned, involuntary vacation. Just until the heat from the feds cooled down.

Then again, I wasn’t waiting for the temp to drop before planning this little excursion back to Miami. But you’d sorta forced my hand in that regard, now hadn’t you?

“Hope you don’t mind if I crash on the couch,” I said, good-natured, and I knew he wouldn’t object. My brother couldn’t feel much–much more than myself–but I sensed a sort of guilt in him for how he’d previously driven me off those eight months ago. Choosing a fake sibling over a real one, one who actually knew who he was… I’d say the guilt had good cause.

I could hear him at his quaint living room/office combo’s computer, typing away at something. Perpetually Distracted Dexter.

“Yeah–yeah, that’d be great,” he said. 

I exhaled a little sigh whilst listening to the soft waves roll in beside me. “Why do I feel there’s a but coming?”

“No buts,” said Dexter. “I just, uh…” He seemed distracted, but not by whatever he typed. “I’ll just have a friend over tomorrow. She’ll probably be here when you arrive.”

Ah.

The friend.

The one I’d been silently wishing Dex would just kill himself. Grow suddenly bored of you.

Wishful thinking.

He seemed quite fond. 

He wouldn’t shut up about you. Always and forever droning on.

It wasn’t romantic, this interest, or so I’d come to suspect over all these past droning months. I didn’t exactly ask about that, though, half because I really didn’t care and half because of how much the subject of you annoyed me, raised over and over again and ugh, just give it a rest already. 

Dex shouldn’t have ‘friends’. The mere concept a fairytale, a mask to people like us. It should be just he and I, two hunters against the world, hunting whomever we like.

“Ah,” I voiced aloud, with the sugar-flaked pleasantry of someone who wasn’t at all picturing severing your aorta with an icepick. “Your little friend will be there to greet me. How nice.”

Dexter must have misread the edge of sarcasm as some sort of concern. “She already knows you’re coming. Don’t worry, she can be trusted.”

Just more proof that my do-good, misguided brother is far too trusting.

“Well,” I said, as though accepting this point as fact. You really can be trusted with my and my brother's secrets–such relief! “I look forward to finally meeting her.” And carving and slicing and dicing her.

I must have forgotten to include that last part out loud, and thus Dexter had no objection–even sounding strangely relieved by my show of good faith in at long last having this introduction.

“See you tomorrow night,” he said, and my lips formed a little smile–instinctual, without any warmth.

“See you then,” I said, then hung up.

And now; here I am. Back in the ever-enchanting sunshine state. My former playground of frozen, meticulously broken toys, and it feels much more like home to be back than I even expected, with just the small matter of ridding you from these sentimental, familial walls.

Walking the concrete pathway to Dex’s Palm Terrace place was nearly surreal, assaulting the walls of my person with waves of distant memories. I’d broken into his beachfront apartment so many times before. Snooping around, getting to know him. Leaving gifts tied up with little red bows. I was basically murderous Saint Claus.

I had only one bag, having traveled here light–a black leather crossbody, which I thumbed the broad strap of whilst knocking with mild knuckles against the door.

Silence. Then, footsteps. Then–

Dexter throws open the door, a smile formed ear to ear like a big, goofy animal. 

“Brian,” he says, and somehow it melts me. Chips slightly away at all that frigid, cold frost round my cruel, vacant heart. And his eyes dip over the state of me. The longer hair, dark curls well past my ears, now; just long enough to tuck back but not long enough to stay there. The dark scruff which coats my angled jawline in the absence of shaving for so long.

“Dig the beard,” Dexter says. “Quite the disguise. Bet the ladies love it.”

I smile at the compliment, though if he'd hated the look I'd feel much the same. “One does what one has to to effectively blend,” I return. And it’s hard not to feel somewhat warm, somewhat seen, understood, by my brother before me. The only person in this world who accepts who I am.

Well, not wholly.

Thanks for nothing, Debra.

Still. Since the death of our mother, Dex is the only place I’ve ever belonged, and seeing him now I’m abruptly struck with just how long it’s been.

I don’t wait for him to welcome me in–he’s probably too cordially stunted to properly welcome me, anyway. I just step right up and throw both my arms around him, my baby brother, my other half; cuffing him firmly on the back as I breathe him in.

“It’s been too long,” I say, holding him there for a moment, before pulling back.

Dexter’s expression is torn into a million indecipherable things, but amongst them is his affection for me. The brother who’ll always see him for who he really is. Who truly fathoms that insatiable beast inside him.

The bliss of our reunion’s forced to end, however, because this house has a rat problem. And as I hear a small, feminine throat being cleared from the fluorescent-lit depths behind my brother, my curiosity gets the better of me.

Time to finally put a face to the name I’ve been loathing for weeks.

And there you are. Standing before a metal-limbed armchair nuzzled inside the living room, like you’d sat there then stiffly stood up; uprooted at the sound of my knocking. Frozen, now; lingering. Like you’re caught in a trap you don’t know your way out of. Hands fidgeting as they twist at the hem of your shirt. 

It’s like you know you don’t belong here–that this moment is Dexter’s and mine–and for the cleverness of that, at least, I must inwardly applaud you. Though that’s decidedly where all my praise ends.

This is one of those social situations I’ve learned so well to navigate through life in the foster system, masking my aberrance. Awkwardness. Other people’s–not mine. And though I could so effortlessly put you at ease as you stand there fidgeting, I find it more entertaining to draw that part out. For a while, at least.

I must admit, I hadn’t pictured you at all in my head. What you’d look like. Not as anything more than an aggravating, compromising blip I’d soon snuff out the threat of. But if I had pictured you, I wouldn’t have imagined you looking, so…

…Well.

You’re not…

Unnatractive. 

I feel one dark brow slowly raising.

And you’re only a friend…?

Whatever must poor Rita think? Seeing the two of you together?

Dexter. You dog.

My eyes trace your expression as you awkwardly hover there in the length of my speculative pause. Myself perfectly content to allow you to hang there in a noose of discomfort all night, and then some. Though eventually I know one of us will have to say something.

This is our fated and much anticipated formal introduction, after all.

So at what feels like long last, I throw you the lifeline that is my smarmiest smile. Knowing full well you won’t know it’s not real. No one but Dex ever does.

“And you must be the friend I’ve heard so much about,” I greet you pleasantly, my deep voice threaded with warmth. Though, peculiarly, that unsure tension in you remains stubbornly in place. Seems if anything only to grow, despite my intent to disarm it. 

Huh.

Oh well–it doesn’t deter me. Killing you will be so much easier if you don’t see it coming, so I’m keen on you liking me, letting your guard down. Thus, I graciously continue:

“You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to finally having you right in front of me.”

Maybe a bit of truth will lube you up. And I watch as your lower lip’s sucked in between your teeth for just a moment whilst you eye me; the motion drawing my studious gaze like a shark’s to blood. 

“And why is that?” you ask, which admittedly I wasn’t expecting. Such a nervous mouse, yet you’d put me on the spot.

I can’t place your nerves. I’m perfectly charming. And yes, you’re aware I’m the notorious Ice Truck Killer, but I’m not sure why that would be alarming. Not with the company you keep; namely, my murderous brother. So it must be something else.

And I so hate not knowing things.

“So I can be introduced to you in person, of course,” I say, like it’s obvious, and it should be. Striding in past Dexter as he steps aside to allow me in, shutting and latching the door behind us all; a roomful of killers, or so I’ve been told.

Our eyes never stray in my steady approach; not yours, not mine. My height soon towering over yours, which isn’t unusual for me when meeting new people, nor when standing near almost anyone. Offering my hand and a smile I’ve been told is quite dashing. “Dex has had such wonderful things to say about you.” And I’m sure he has, I just couldn’t be bothered to remember any of them.

My smile could melt steel as if it was butter.

“I’m Brian.”

I won’t lie, I expected you to crumble. Most women love this move. The confidence, the approachable self-assurance. But you eye my outstretched hand as though I might pull you into the fires of hell with me were you to take it, before craning your neck to meet my gaze once more.

“Charmed,” is all you say; unmoving.

Something about that irks a small ripple up my nape, but I just allow my hand to drop graciously back to my side. All practiced, svelte charm still in place. It’d take a lot more than that to dischevel me.

“So,” I say, by all appearance unconcerned by the lack of civility in my brother’s ill choice of friends. “It almost feels like I already know you, what with the way Dexter’s gone on and on.”

Your gaze steals over to Dexter, hovering there in the distance behind us, before you smile up at me again in a way which feels forced. And I suppose you’re not the talkative sort, though why you keep glancing at Dexter as if waiting for something from him, as if he’ll swoop in and save you, I’m uncertain about.

In due time I’ll figure it out.

“But there’s still one thing I’m curious about,” I say, turning to make myself comfortable. It has been a long trip to get here, after all. 

I plop down like a wolf amongst sheep atop Dexter’s hideous couch, legs spread like I own the damn food chain. One arm draped out along the length of its backrest as I eye you somewhat expectantly, still rigid in how you stand. Imagining what you might look like strung upside down by your ankles with a lengthy strap of duct tape kissing those soft lips, holding them shut for me. 

The shadows beneath my eyes pinch.

It’s a lovely image.

Maybe you’ll see for yourself.

“And what’s that?” Dexter asks–bravo, Dexter–at least one of you’s courteous enough to ask. And I tilt my darkly curled head at him.

“How exactly did the two of you get to know one another?” I ask. Watching him. Eying you. Hoping my focus might rattle you–just a little. “I’m sure it’s an interesting tale.”

“I’ve already told you,” Dexter says, and he probably has, at least in his unabbreviated sense. “We work together at the precinct.” He dons his playful tone I often find so silly but right now I find I detest. “The lab geek and the cop~”

“Right. But that’s not what I mean,” I slice into his futile comedy routine, “What I mean, is: how did our friend here come to know you’re one of Miami’s most heinous, uncaught serial killers?”  

The other, of course, being myself; excepting the whole uncaught thing.

Dex is lucky I’m so forgiving.

I put it forth bluntly, with little room for either one of you to wiggle out of answering. And though my radiance of charisma remains, my intensity’s keen. ‘Cause I must admit; now that I’m here, I’m curious about you. Especially when you seem like such a rabbit in a household of jackals. Weren’t you supposed to be some like-minded killer or something? Perhaps I should have paid closer attention whenever the unwanted topic of you had come up in mine and Dexter’s conversations, instead of bitterly tuning you out. 

Strangely, Dexter doesn’t seem to know what to say, and neither do you. Like the story’s too long, too elaborate. As though there's pieces the two of you’d rather omit. 

Fascinating.

“She helped me out,” Dex says at last; monotonously shallow, like the words aren’t even his, like he's rehearsed this. “In a time of need.”

I quirk a subtly mocking brow at him from where I’m idly lounged on the couch. 

“Why do you sound like a generic thankyou card?” Why, indeed. “C’mon, baby brother–I want specifics. You can tell me.” My dusky gaze passes from him to his lovely, curious friend, hovered opposite the ugly coffee table before me. “We’re all friends here, right?”

It would seem that my smile unnerves you. Which might be annoying if it wasn’t so entertaining a thing to see.

Dexter sighs before trying a more human answer, leaning one bulky shoulder against his white, open-backed bookcase that separates his living room from the office attached. 

This whole effectively communicating thing is hard for him.

“It was sort of an accident,” he says, like that’s far more telling. The lacking details seeming to spur you to chime in. 

“It was really just me being in the wrong place at the right time,” you elaborate, with the passive front of one pretending the ice they walk on won’t at any moment begin to splinter. Folding your arms against that pensive look I toss you, which I tilt my head in silent question of. Why so nervous? I’m far from daunting, aren’t I? 

“I was called to check out an anonymous tip,” you continue, averting your gaze from me far more often than one normally does. “Some sort of suspicious activity at an abandoned storage shed near Palmetto. Myself and my parter.” 

You glance at Dex, as if he might continue the tale for you, might rescue you from this, but when he merely quirks a little smile with a similar shrug, you’re forced into proceeding.

“It was supposedly related to a case–which it wasn’t, not that that matters, but…” You let out a breath. Seeming to steady yourself, the recollection, though for all your nervous fidgeting your tone is surprisingly calm. “I walked into the storage shed, it was unlocked, and… And I saw Dexter. Sawing someone’s arm off. Someone who was strapped down to a table in a plastic fucking tutu.” 

You glance at Dex, as he detachedly watches you. 

“Someone I knew from a previous case,” you continue. “Someone who deserved whatever it was Dexter was doing, and much more than that, too. Which is exactly when I shut that fucking door and assured my partner there was nothing to see here, and we left. Left Dexter to do what he does, undisturbed.”

That’s the end of your story, and I picture the scene, all while some predatorily protective part of me insists on clarifying, “So… That’s it? You saw my brother chopping a man into pieces, and were immediately okay with it? Go Team Dexter? Just like that?”

I try very little to hide my disbelief, ‘cause I don’t buy it. In my experience with cops, and I’ve had plenty, you all tend to be such sticklers when it comes to casual bloodshed and carnage. What’s more, your uptick in nerves isn’t exactly selling me.

My lashes lower in my deliberate examination of you. “Why’d you really not turn my dear brother in?”

In lieu of answering, you once more eye Dex, and that look between you says something.

“It’s complicated,” you say at last. Like you’re waiting for Dexter to speak, but he’d rather wait on you.

The pair of you. Really. You’re like a couple of tongue-tied, helpless kittens. Must I string this conversation on for you?

“Enlighten me,” I say, with something of an edge.

Perhaps I should’ve kept the disarmingly fake smile, because if anything you thrust your guard up.

“Look, I don’t owe you a full explanation of what Dexter and I have been through, okay?”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” I viperously put forth, my pretense of pleasantry slipping. “Seeing as how you know so much about myself. And all without my express knowledge or permission.”

An impermanent issue. One I won't leave Miami without personally seeing resolved. You know far too much–you’re an issue. For Dexter’s sake and for mine, we must unfortunately bid you bon voyage.

“I’d say it’s only fair I know a little more about you,” I continue, cordiality slipped back in place. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

The delicate line of your jaw tautens, eyes wavered with wariness and doubt. Refusing to spit out any more, though the longer you’re subject to my critical appraisal, the more the twine of your stubbornness unwinds.

“I… I need someone dead,” you admit at last.

Ah.

There it is.

“And, after seeing Dexter doing… what he does…” You bite your lower lip, as though struggling to recollect straying thoughts. “I need his help. I need his help to kill someone.”

I take my time mulling about your words. Piecing together the part you still aren't saying.

“So… You won’t turn Dexter in, so long as he helps you kill someone. Did I get that right?” 

You bite down harsher–immediately shake your head. “No, it’s–it’s more complicated than that!” 

But by now I’m barely listening. Turning instead to lift a wry brow at my brother, who’s watching this whole fiasco with a can-I-please-leave-yet look plastered upon his face.

“This is the friend you’ve been telling me about?” I wonder vaguely. “The cop who’s blackmailing you into helping her kill someone?”

“I’m a detective,” you cut in, like that matters, like I care, and I feel my eyes already rolling.

“Detective,” I sarcastically amend, with a scathing glance at you. “So sorry to offend, Detective Whoever-You-Are. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m talking to my brother.”

When you mutter back your name under your breath, I make a show of ignoring it.

“So, what?” I instead ask my foolish, good-hearted kin. “You’re actually going to help her kill someone?” 

His lack of answer’s enough. And at his arms-folded silence, I ruminatively tut my tongue.

“Doesn’t seem like you, Dex… Not the edict-ruled brother I know.” I try not to let my tone grow too ingratiating whilst goading, “What about your beloved code?” 

Dexter exhales a stiff breath. Putting forth, “It’s more than that.”

“More?”

“Like she said, it’s complicated.”

“Has the word ‘complicated’ been redefined as ‘indescribably moronic and impossible to explain’ sometime in the last fifteen seconds?” I return, incredulously flat. Eying their strange and stilted silence with dwindling patience. “What aren’t the two of you telling me…?”

You’re biting your lip like you’re biting back words, and I watch, waiting, biding my time for those bit-back words to get the better of you–though surprisingly, it’s Dexter who breaks first. 

“It’s nothing about that, it’s…” He rubs the back of his sand-colored head, roughing his hair up with tense distraction. “Well, it is about that, in a sense. I didn’t know how to bring this up. I just… I have to leave town for the weekend,” he finally gets out. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’m headed out.”

I’m too nonplussed to hide the creeping edge of my bemusement.

That’s what he’s been having trouble saying?

He drops this like it’ll land like a bombshell on our entire reunion, before rushing at whatever my bland expression, “It’s just for a few days. I’ll be back Monday bright and early.”

To be honest, I’m mostly confused about why this seemed so hard for either one of you bumbling idiots to tell me. Or why you’re bumbling about it at all. Why should I care if he’ll be gone for forty-eight more measly hours after we've been separated for almost a year? And for many, many years before that? Does he actually expect me to mourn him till Monday?

“Big plans with the family?” I venture coolly, and Dexter’s broad shoulders bunch into a shrug, as though he’s cornered and a shrug is all that might save him.

“It’s a whole thing,” he explains. “Cody has a scouting trip, then Rita wanted to make a whole weekend out of it with the grandparents–I’ll spare you the details.”

Yes, thank you for that.

Dexter the family man. It’s so sweet it’s nauseating.

“So you’re taking your fake kids camping so you can keep playing domesticated dad to a woman and children who’d hate you if they knew who you really are?” My smile’s so feigned it hurts. “Sounds like a great time.”

My brother, the shrugger, shrugs once again. Doesn’t even try to defend my interpretive accusation. “I gotta be there.”

“Well have fun on your little adventure,” I muse; side-eying him. “Not sure why it took you this long to tell me. I’m sure I’ll find some way to busy myself in the meantime.”

You and Dexter exchange that look again. That look which betrays how you still haven’t shared whatever’s so lodged down your throats and wherever this is really going, and by this point it’s driving me toward wanting to just rip open your necks to drag whatever it is out, myself.

“Well, actually,” my brother begins, struggling once more with saying things. “I’ve already got an idea that’ll keep you busy in mind.”

I steady him in the crosshairs of my vision. Well. Now we might be getting somewhere. And I can’t deny my interest, much like my frustration, is piqued. 

“Oh?”

“A favor, really,” he adds, without elaborating, and I really am going to rip the words right out of him.

“Are you going to tell me what that favor is?” I’m finally forced to ask, before glancing exasperatedly at you. “Or perhaps I should defer to your translator?”

There you go, nervously rubbing that elbow again, though I find myself oddly mesmerized by the motion of it. I can’t say for what cause, other than I’m not blind, and you’re obviously attractive. Watching you anxiously stand there is becoming one of my favorite pastimes.

“I, um,” you mumble, so quietly I almost can’t hear you. A nervous mouse again, one my nature is stirred to chase. “Well. Dexter was going to help me with–you know… What I was saying before. We have everything planned for tomorrow, and it has to happen tomorrow.” You seem strangely adamant about this, and I don’t care enough to question the ‘why’, just as I don’t care for the ‘who’–I’ll take your word for it. “But, um, with Dexter out of town…”

Helpless, as if to say any more’s an impossible task, you glance to Dexter for support.

“Really, the two of you,” I lowly muse. Eyes glistening between the pair of you, alight with my wicked amusement. Stretching out more broadly on the throne of Dexter’s hideous couch. “You could almost put a full sentence together so long as you tag one another in after every breath.”

The taunt’s enough to unlodge wherever Dexter’s tongue’s at. 

“I need you to help her kill this guy while I’m gone,” he finally says bluntly. Arms folded, expression stern, yet hinted by what may as well be him begging me, which in itself, is…

Well. He’s never asked me for anything. Not like this. Though I certainly don’t owe him any favors…

“I know you know how to set up a proper kill room,” he states, and he should–he’s seen my imitation of his plastic-drenched kill room, firsthand. I’ve studied his work more than anyone. Emulated it to perfection, and all for a happily-ever-after he refused to take part of, spat cold in my face.

For a moment, I feel almost human in how I can’t seem to react or respond to this request. Though as I watch the mirrored hope in you both, as the idea of this slowly settles, I find that it doesn’t completely bore me…

My eyes drift to you. Singling you out. Stringing round your anxious expression. And you’ve mettle, at least, to not look away from the barbs of my musing intensity.

So. This is why you’ve been acting so sheepishly inept. You need big bad Brian’s help with something.

It’s laughably cute, the idea of you killing, and already I know I’m going to do it. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t make you sit in it a little. Take my time in toying with you, first.

“You want me to babysit your blackmailing little friend here,” I say to Dex, with raven-dark eyes still on you, “while she attempts–and correct me if I’m wrong here–her first kill?” 

I can tell you can feel how my gaze is dissecting you. Pulling apart, piecing together, assessing every piece and shape and shade of you. It makes you squirm, and I love it; sparing a moment to slide my tongue over the sharpness of my teeth as I feast on such a beautiful reaction. 

I turn back to Dex. “What makes you think she’s even capable?”

“I’m capable,” you insist, drawing my gaze again. And even through those nerves roused in my presence, you appear quite convinced of it. 

Interesting. 

“I can do this,” you again allege. With such frail confidence, but confidence nonetheless. “I just… need a little help.”

I tamp down the rearing head of my inquisitiveness. Ensure my interest remains vague in how I lackadaisically eye you. 

“Help with what, exactly?” I slowly ask. And it’s not a no, which I’m amused to see is so surprising.

You blink a few times, eyes growing wider, more determined–before you’re explaining, quickly, as though whatever luck this is may run out.

“Getting him to the kill site,” you say succinctly, with all the puffed-up bravado of a fluffy little rabbit pretending that they’ve slayed a fox before, and it really is amusing. “Moving the body. Clean-up.”

I let my watchful silence drag on. Held in supposed indecisive contemplation. Should I? Should I? Until, when I can nearly hear your fretting heartbeat, I feel one corner of my lips slowly quirk up. Watching every minor movement of you like a fox might a meal, might a rabbit, and find I really wouldn’t mind taking a bite. 

“Don’t need help doing the deed, then?” I subtly ask you.

Your eyebrows flicker to a knot. Lips pressing flat, before you shake your head at me. “No.”

“You sure?” I further goad, with silken smoothness. Loving those little cracks of hesitation along your lovely surface so much I’m inclined to hammer in even more of them. “‘Cause I won’t kill him for you. You have to do that, yourself. And what’s more, if you for any reason chicken out on me and can’t follow through with all this…” I calmly smile. “I’ll simply leave you there all alone with whatever maddened mess of whoever this man you’ve left behind.” The idea of it sparks a delicious flame somewhere deep below my cavernous lack of heart. “After ensuring he’s woken up, first, of course. Aware. Pissed off. Untied.” 

I smile my cheshire smile as that resolve in you flickers in place; the smallest glow, so nearly snuffed out already. 

“So?” I spur in your uncertain silence. “Do we have a deal, little killer?”

And still, you hesitate. Seeming to weigh my words with care, along with the cost of your own, which I certainly appreciate. You’re not as stupid as I’d originally believed, in any case.

At long last, you nod, but I don’t move, don’t even blink from how I wolfishly watch you from my throne of Dexter’s couch. Not until you say the words out loud. And you will, if you want my help. You have to.

If that’s a flash of resentment within those pretty eyes of yours, it only causes my broadening smirk.

“Fine,” you say at last, after thickly swallowing. “We have a deal.”

And surely light must dance in my entertained eyes as I bite back just how pleased I am by this answer. 

This should be fun.

✧˖° chapter 2

[hothammies]

will byers, the resident sniper and medic - apoc au details under the cut!

---

will's role in the party:

a scouter - stays back to watch over the area during runs w/his rifle and is a backup supply runner if need be. just prefers to scout with dustin and mike

medic - normally takes care of the group regarding injuries and medicine. is very gentle :)

the angel on mike's shoulder -> knows how to placate mike the best if mike's being unreasonable or too harsh

most knowledgable about the infection and how it works -> helps with understanding the patterns of infected people, what attracts infection, etc.

party mediator - rarely ever fights with anyone (mostly with mike haha) and is usually the person people most often go to for a vent or a rant

skills + hobbies:

best with a rifle + second best with guns! -> he practices a lot with lucas but refuses to kill animals

cook of the group along with el (taught her how to cook): rest of the party can make edible food but don't know how to make it taste good

great knowledge of plants and medicine -> jonathan and joyce taught him all they know about it (they are healers)

draws in a sketchbook that mike stole from another group for him: filled with mundane sketches from life and treats it like a daily journal

likes to collect cds and cassettes that he finds around to play in the car (him and max discuss music the most) - fave bands include system of a down, gorillaz, the clash and the cure :) he's an alt rock fan!

quirks / fun facts:

him and lucas have an ongoing competition that started with their aim and is now based on literally anything -> they've been keeping score since they were nine (lucas is currently up by ten and the points are in the thousands)

will shuffles different music in the car and observes who in the party likes what so he can make his own little mental playlists for them!

him and dustin talk a lot about how the infection works. they have some very intense debates about it, especially when it comes to if the infected still have human consciousness or not (will thinks they do, dustin thinks they don't)

--- other notes: canon will, in a short summary, is a very sweet, sensitive, empathetic and capable boy who consistently puts others needs before his own :') of course, i wanted apoc will to share those attributes, with a big emphasis on his empathy, strength, and kindness. first - i wanted him to be a medic to show how he cares about other people and how he helps the people he loves as well. it's shown a lot in the show how much he cares for people and living beings (see: his actions with dart, el, mike, feeling bad for jonathan's hand after he had just woken up, etc.) and him being a healer is very in tune with this behavior. will as a healer is very special to me :') and him learning this skill from his mom and his brother strengthens the theme of family also!

second - him being good with a hunting rifle was to showcase his quiet strength and capability (i'd also like to add that his dexterity on his dnd sheet is extremely high) -> he's a non-confrontational survivor. his strength shines from afar and is put on the backlight, but no one in the party thinks will is weak for his empathy. mike and lucas, in particular, are actually quite jealous of the fact that will is still able to see so much good in humanity and life while being so strong. of course, his connection to the upside down in st is mirrored in this au as well, where he has an innate understanding of how the infection works because of experience, observation and other story spoilers...

looking at the current poll results, it seems im going to be drawing lucas and max next :D see you for that!

[seraphdreams]

b-bonten taking turns eating you out n makin you rate each of em outta ten but you’re so fucked out you can’t choose 🥺🦋

stassie?!!?? THIS IDEA???

it’s like, a regular bonten game night turns a bit competitive when some of them don’t wanna admit their defeat to one another — it’s ran who suggests “why don’t we play a different game?” . . . you would’ve never thought his idea would be to lay you across his bed, all of the organization staring your cute body down as ran has his way with your cunt. and the way he eats it, he’s practically making out with your pussy — moaning as if he hadn’t eaten a meal as good as you before n he’s super neat with it . . . the neater you are, the sloppier you’ll become.

it’s a full rotation, to sanzu who eats it like he hasn’t the slightest respect for the cunt he creams in every other night, to koko who truly looped himself into this foolishness sheerly by accident — his dexterous tongue switching between deeply tonguefucking you to flicking at your clit.

and you can’t forget about rindou and kakucho ! rindou’s such a sweet “older brother” to kakucho, guiding him while he eats you out. kaku is new to these things and he’s quite shy as well but with rindou by his side, aiding him to “go faster — suck her clit — slip in two fingers” kaku feels like a pro.

too bad for you when you can barely remember your own name and you’re a twitching mess covered in your cum. maybe they’ll leave the rating for tomorrow — when your legs are too weak to move.