#what the fuck are those corpses even gonna talk about

[dexteri0us]

now i’m breathin' like i’m runnin' 'cause you're taking me there; don’t you know you spin me out of control?

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: reader is a freak, mentions of corpses, smut - dom!dexter (but he's soft<3), sir kink, oral (f and m receiving), some slapping, some pussy slapping, bondage, knife play, brush play, wartenberg wheel (all sterilized of course).

summary: you, being an annoying girlfriend, and dexter, being an incredible boyfriend. (be careful though, he might as well just off you one day if you keep asking for it).

w/c: around 7,280

a/n: no pun intended. if i forgot any warnings, let me know, my brain is kinda fried

Dexter hadn’t exactly told you that he was a killer. A murderer, a criminal, or whatever label fit his particular shade of darkness. But he also never denied it when your insinuations crept too close to the truth. He knew that you knew, and that was enough for you. Knowing that he was okay with that was enough for you. Well, until recently.

He’d given you a blurry picture of what he did to his victims. Not because he offered it, but you had a knack for prodding, especially when you sensed he was buttered up just enough. You knew a crime scene or a sample of blood brought a smile to his face, but you didn’t exactly have that kind of power to bring those things to him. You found your own ways to make Dexter smile. Leaving a post-it note on his coffee machine that read “Kill the day”. Buying him a new shirt for work or a romantic dinner. Making him a playlist for his late-night boat rides. Or you’d plan a quiet night with nature docs to stimulate his intellect.

And if you were feeling bold, you’d cook. Well, try to cook. Homemade pizza was your speciality. Your best and only. Dexter never complained, though, always giving you a small, approving nod as he chewed slowly.

Still, he didn’t give you the exact answers either. He might roll his eyes, sigh heavily, or offer a cryptic one-word response, but you could always tell when you’d hit the nail on the head.

“Do you have a special place where you do it? Like a basement or something?”

Roll of his eyes. No.

“Do you ever regret it? Like, afterward?”

No.

“Do you stalk them?”

Side eye. Yes.

“Do you talk to them first? Like, try to scare them or mess with their heads:”

...Yes?

You played this game as if it was the most normal thing in the world, without batting an eye. It was fun for you until you headed in an unpleasant direction of the questions.

“Does it get messy? What do you use to clean up? What about their clothes? Do you get them naked before getting rid of the body?”

Yes.

Oh. “…Before killing them?”

Yes.

The wheels in your head began to turn, your thoughts spiraling into uncharted territory. “Even the women?”

Yes.

Huh. Suddenly, the game wasn’t so fun anymore. You didn’t know how you felt about that. You pictured the men and women you didn’t know, beautiful, vulnerable, dead. It was stupid to feel jealous of corpses, but you couldn’t help it. It clawed at you.

For a while, you stopped asking questions. Not because you didn’t want to know, but because you were too distracted by the answers you’d already gotten. And maybe you were afraid of what else you’d uncover.

If you were jealous of them before, now that jealousy skyrocketed into different dimensions.

You were in the middle of baking banana bread, working the batter longer than necessary. It was your fourth loaf this week, and you’d already had to give a few away to Deb and Joey, because you weren’t capable of eating all of it.

You were happy that Deb and Joey appreciated it because Dexter didn’t even like banana bread that much. He ate it because you made it. Which was sweet. But still, he seemed to enjoy talking to naked strangers more than eating your baked goods.

What the fuck is his problem?

“Another banana bread?” Dexter’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “You know, it’s gonna lose its sweetness if you keep mixing all the frustration into it.”

Normally, you’d snort at the deadpan delivery of his stupid joke, but now was really not the time to remind you of the mood you were trying to suppress.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked is all seriousness now, coming over to you and leaning one hip against the counter. You didn’t look at him, keeping your focus on the batter. “Okay, you’re not. What can I do?” he asked, waiting patiently for you to open up.

“Nothing.”

He stood there and you felt his eyes on you, probably trying to read you. You still didn’t acknowledge him, but his presence pressed against you and it was starting to make you uncomfortable. He knew better than to push; it would only make you more frustrated, but he wasn’t one to just walk away either. Besides, he knew you’d crack eventually. And you did, dropping the spatula into the bowl and turning to face him.

“Why don’t you like my banana bread?”

He squinted his eyes, trying to decide if you were joking or not.

“I like your banana bread. Just… an appropriate amount. Not five loaves in a week.”

“Four,” you corrected.

“Five,” he countered, not missing a beat. “You made two yesterday, one on Monday and one on Wednesday.”

Shit, he was right. But could he blame you? He was driving you nuts. Well, you were driving yourself nuts, but it was because of him!

“Hey, I know my brain is limited, but is that really what’s bothering you? Will you help me out, or should I try to piece it together on my own?” he said softly.

He always did that, giving you space but never giving up on saving you from the sea of worrisome thoughts, never ignoring your closed off behavior. He’d always told you that you were like a puzzle to him. And he claimed he liked puzzles.

But you didn’t want to be a puzzle this time. You knew keeping him guessing wouldn't be healthy, so you spilled it out. You told him about your stupid insecurity and the stupid jealousy, the anger and frustration that boiled over when he told you about how he stripped his victims naked. And he couldn’t have had a more baffled expression on his face

For the first time, he told you a little bit about his hobby without you having to pull it from him. He reassured you that there was no sexual motivation behind it whatsoever. None. That the people he killed were disgusting and vile human beings who didn’t deserve even the faintest semblance of intimacy. Well, not that kind of intimacy. They deserved nothing but to die.

“I promise,” he said as he brushed his thumb over your cheek, “the only body I admire is yours. It’s an unhealthy obsession, really. Unhealthier than the other one.”

And with that, he finally made you laugh and roll your eyes at him. You gave him a playful shove, making him smile as you turned back to your batter. He moved closer one more time, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, then your cheek. As he stepped back, he gave your triceps a playful pinch, leaving you to your baking.

You didn’t have a reason not to trust him. Even though he held onto a big secret, he never outright lied. He just never told you the whole truth, and you respected that. He’d told you it was better this way, something about plausible deniability. And yes, you made it a little hard for him, but what can you say, you were nosy.

Later that night, he went out of his way to worship your body, to prove that you were truly his number one obsession. He looked you in the eye as he fucked you, making you see how you made him feel and showing you every ounce of devotion he had for you. When he put his tongue on you, he didn’t stop eating your pussy until you had to push him away.

Afterward, you lay on your stomach while Dexter rested beside you, propped on one elbow, his other hand tracing invisible shapes on your back.

He let you guess what he drew or wrote with his fingers, and you both giggled when you guessed something ridiculous when he drew something completely simple. It was your favorite kind of peace, lying in his arms, your warm skin against his. You almost couldn’t believe that these same arms were capable of something else.

It wouldn’t be you if you weren’t greedy, though. And sometimes, when your mood was just right, that greed turned you into a bit of a brat.

You were on your way from the farmer’s market, the basket of fresh carrots and strawberries balanced on your lap as Dexter focused on the road, one hand casually resting on the wheel.

You were just telling him how you wanted to have a garden of your own one day, grow your own fruits and veggies, maybe even have a little flock of chickens.

“Can you imagine? You’d have fresh eggs for breakfast every morning, and I could make you a fruit salad to take to work.”

He glanced over, just briefly, before fixing his eyes back on the road. “You’d want me to share that with you?”

You felt a small tug of your heart. It made you reach out to gently tug the short hair behind his ear. He liked that. He’d said it was soothing when you played with his hair, especially around the ears, and you made a mental note to do more of it later tonight.

“Dex, you’re stuck with me. You’ll need to kill me to get rid of me,” you joked and he shot you a look, but you giggled at your own quip.  

Truthfully, it broke your heart sometimes, the way he thought so little of himself. Sure, he was confident, sometimes even a little too sure of his skills, and it could momentarily turn him into a smug asshole. But you worried that he’d never feel how loved he actually was. How many people cared about him.

Before you could spiral too far into those thoughts, his phone buzzed. He was being called to a scene, and he initially wanted to drop you off at home, but you convinced him there was no point. It was literally on the way, and you could just wait in the car.

“Alright,” he said as he gathered his things, “half an hour, tops.” You nodded and he stepped out of the car.

You watched him work from the car, though you could barely make him out through the crowd of people that gathered at the scene. Still, you admired how focused and precise he was, the way he was handling the camera and the lifeless body.

It was impossible not to think about how those same hands had touched you, traced every curve and dip of your skin. Fuck, you were sick. He was professionally documenting death for Christ's sake.

Still, your mind couldn’t help but wander elsewhere, wondering if he handled them with the same care. So, once you were back on the road, you couldn’t help yourself.

“You know, I thought of a way you could prove your ‘obsession’ with my body.”

He paused, glancing at you with furrowed brow, confused. “I thought we were past that.”

“Well, you know, it does something to a girl, knowing her boyfriend’s hobby involves working with naked bodies.”

“I can’t believe that that’s what bothers you about this whole situation.”

You shrugged, letting the silence hang for a moment.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What’d you have in mind?”

“I want to experience it.”

“'It'. Try to be a little more specific.”

“You know… the setup. Like, a roleplay kinda thing. You’ll be you, and I’ll be your victim. Or like a 'draw me like one of your french girls' kinda situation."

You honestly thought that it was a good idea, but you just proved to him how much little you understood about the whole serial killer thing, which he let you know quite candidly.

Don’t get me wrong, he adored you, but he didn’t have a problem with calling you out on your stupidity and reminding you how close you sometimes got to crossing lines you didn’t fully understand. That’s what made your relationship great.

“First of all, why would you think they are French?" he asked, confused by the movie reference, but you jusrt rolled your eyes. "And second of all, I actually wonder whether it’s you or me who’s sick in the head here,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he went on to tell you that it wasn't a fucking game that you played. He is a serial killer. “I actually like your body intact.”

“But you wouldn’t actually –”

“No.”

“Come on, wouldn’t you like to see me all tied up, immobilized, completely at your mercy?”

His jaw tightened just slightly before he answered. Oh?

“No. End of discussion.”

“Fine,” you groaned with a sigh, sinking back into your seat like a scolded child, your fingers idly tracing the ridges of the basket in your lap.

You wanted to be petty about it but instead, you decided to be on your best behavior. The reason? You’d definitely gotten into his head. You didn’t know if he’d started fantasizing about you like that, or if he was coming to the realization that you might actually need a psychiatric evaluation. You hoped it was the former, so when you caught him lost in thought, his gaze lingering on you as if he were in a trance, you resisted the urge to poke the bear, only sending a sweet smile his way.

The sex had gotten more… intense. Also more frequent, and you had a theory that it correlated with his early returns from his hunts. He never seemed to be satisfied, always came home frustrated with himself and he took it out on you. He’d take you against the nearest surface he could find; the couch, the kitchen counter, even the floor. You thought there wasn’t a single surface in his apartment that wasn’t defiled.

Once, when he’d gotten home before you, he threatened to take you outside in the external corridor where his neighbors could see and hear everything. Well, you wouldn’t mind, but he was a flying-under-the-radar kind of guy.

Either way, you’d struck a chord. And while you still hadn’t gotten exactly what you wanted, you couldn’t deny you enjoyed the way he’d been lately.

You just got out of shower, slipped into your pajamas and plopped onto the couch, turning on some white noise on your phone as you pulled out some notes for your upcoming exam. No, you weren’t capable of studying after you changed into your sleeping attire, but it was better than doing nothing.

Your eyes skimmed mindlessly across the words when you heard the door unlock, revealing Dexter in his khaki henley and cargos. You greeted him with a smile, sending him into kitchen where his take-out was, before turning your head back to your notes.

You didn’t register him moving closer to you, until you felt the nylon of a cuff around your wrist.

“What the fuck?” you murmured and looked at your wrist. It wasn’t your first time he used bondage on you, of course, but this was weird. You tugged instinctively at the chain, but his firm grip on the other buckle didn’t allow you much movement. “Dex, I don’t have time for this now.”

“My victims don’t really get to pick when their time is up.”

You looked at him, the confusion apparent on your face, but then when you locked eyes with him, it started to gradually dawn on you. Your eyes flicked from his face, to his clothes, to the chain around your wrist.

Was this what you thought it was? You didn’t want to celebrate too early.

And just like that, Dexter gave a sharp tug on the chain, pulling you to your feet.

“The first thing that usually happens,” he began, leading you to the bedroom, “is the weight of their tranquilized bodies pulls them to the ground.”

Before you could react, he slammed the door shut behind you and in one swift motion, your back hit the hard wood. Your other wrist was caught and cuffed too, the chain between them yanked taut as he raised your arms above your head, hooking the chain on the hook mounted on the door, leaving you stertched out.

It was too high and the position forced you onto your tiptoes, your whole body arching and making your ass press firmly against the door.

Dexter grabbed your jaw and kissed you aggressively, your teeth clanking against each other and your tongues tangling together, making your mixed saliva drip down your chin.

He looked at you with that signature intensity, eyes hooded and plush lips parted slightly. His hot breath fanned across your chin as he spread the spit over your cheek and jawline, massaging it into your skin.

You admired the way his hair curled at his forehead and around his ears, it gave him this innocent vibe that put him into contrast with those strong features of his face.

Then he kissed you again, this time more softly, snaking his arm into the space between the door and your arched back, pressing himself against you and making you feel the hardness in his cargo pants. His hand slid lower, over the curve of your lower back, slipping beneath your shirt to cup your ass firmly. His fingers kneaded your flesh before grasping the hem of your panties and tugging up, the fabric pressing tightly against your pussy.

The pressure sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, the cloth stimulating your clit as he gave it individual tugs. You whimpered into his mouth, your body writhing against him even though it was almost physically impossible. To amplify the pleasure, Dexter's thigh slid between your legs, the textured fabric of his cargos creating a delicious sensation.

When he was satisfied with the wet spot you created on his pants, he dropped to his knees. He teased you some more, licking along the hem of your panties, placing wet kisses on your thighs and burying his nose against your heat, telling you how good you smell.

“Dex,” you whined. Your cunt screamed for release as well as your strained arms. You wanted nothing more than to tangle your fingers in his hair and grind yourself against his mouth until the dam broke.

He had told you before that his face was made for you to sit on. Once, Deb had jokingly called him a chair, which turned out to be a thought her therapist had passed on to her. Your mind couldn’t help but wander to the nights when he made you sit on his cock as he went over his subjects. He blindfolded you each time, naturally.

And from the look on your face, Deb knew instantly where your thoughts had gone, and said that she didn’t need that mental image in her head. You both laughed about it later. Honestly, you two loved sharing your sexcapades with each other.

Dexter found out through Quinn, because of course Deb would share, especially if you gave her inspiration. And he couldn't resist taking a jab at Dexter.

“I didn’t know you were such an animal, Dex,” Joey had told him with that smug grin of his.

Dex had given you an earful about how you had kind of compromised his privacy. It was only a matter of time until Masuka learned about this, and he was already exasperating. Dexter was afraid Masuka would take it as a shared hobby, something they could finally, really talk about with passion, like two guys. Ugh, the thought alone made him uncomfortable already.

But you'd told him that Deb was your best friend, and that girlfriends just had to talk about this stuff.

“It’s like therapy.”

“Don’t you say that about sex too?”

“Depends on the circumstances. Besides, it’s good for tips. You should thank her. If you thought making me squirt was all your talent, think again.”

After that, you made a deal not to bring up your sex club discussions in front of Dexter, and Deb made Quinn promise he wouldn’t say a word in front of Vince.

However, you did joke about the chair thing often, because he did provide the best seat in the house, whether it was his lap or his face.

But this time, he wasn't giving it up so easily. He wanted to make you earn it, but you couldn’t do anything except to wait.

When he finally did put his tongue on you, he didn’t take your panties off. He made you cum with them on, licking your clit over your panties, sometimes brushing his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves before sliding to your hole and pushing against the cloth, to the point your underwear became uncomfortable from how soaked it was with your cum.

Then he finally pushed your panties aside, the wet material sticking to your skin. He shuffled closer, his forehead grazing your stomach and his hair tickling your skin as he looked down at you, sliding his fingers through your folds and over your sensitive clit. you begged him to make you cum again, thinking he’d finally eat you out properly, but he just used his fingers.

He stayed on his knees for a while, admiring your shiny pussy and grazing his fingernails over your clit, teasing you, before standing up to his full height and properly fucking you hard with his fingers.

He wrapped his arm around you once again, bracing himself to your side as he started snapping his palm against your clit, two of his fingers sliding in and out of you and filling the room with wet sounds.

When you started cumming again, his other hand, that was resting on your hip reached down and tugged on your panties again, positioning the crotch back between your pussy lips and pulling, wiggling it to create stimulation against your clit.

“That’s it,” he growled, his lower jaw dropping down as he admired your squirming body.

You cried out from the sensation, your head banging against the door and one of your legs bending in the knee as you pressed your thighs together, trying to escape from the overstimulation.

You were so consumed by coming down from your high that you didn’t expect Dexter to unhitch the chain from the hook on the door, making you lose your balance. You would have surely fallen to the ground if Dexter hadn’t been there, but he was ready to catch you.

He shifted your body, picking you up bridal style. You thought that he’d lay you down onto the bed and fuck you there, but instead, he opened the door and headed out of the room. And as you rested in the comfort of his strong arms, your head against his shoulder, you noticed that his shirt smelt differently. It wasn’t the usual sweat and blood, or different human remains. It was a laundry detergent, meaning he truly did this just for you. It was your night.

He carried you through the living room, making his way toward his desk where he sat you down.

Unlike every other day, the computer was gone, as well as the photo of him and Deb. In fact, it was completely cleared out.

How have you not noticed that?

He stood between your thighs, working the cuffs to separate them from each other before pulling your sleep shirt over your head, leaving you exposed to him. His hand reached out, pinching your nipple as he kissed you, sharing the taste of your pussy with you. He pressed himself against you, the button of his cargos grazing your clit and making you moan. You were still sensitive, but you loved every second of it.

He leaned into you, forcing you to lie down, the coldness of the desk hitting your back and spreading goosebumps over your skin. He positioned you to his liking, moving you up so your feet rested on the top of the desk.

“I make sure they can’t escape,” he continued his description of the way he’d done things, pulling out another set of cuffs from the desk drawer and clasping each around your ankles before cuffing them to your wrist cuffs. You weren’t unfamiliar with any of this, but then he pulled out two other clasps and attached the ankle cuffs to the D-rings built in the desk.

Were those always there?

Now, you were all spread out for him, your nipples stiff for him to feed on, your legs bent in the knees and putting the outline of your cunt under your ruined panties on full display. You were capable of minimal movement with your ankles attached to the desk and your hands dependent on the movement of your legs. You weren’t going anywhere. Not that you wanted to.

“Are you good?” he asked, making sure he wasn’t doing anything you weren’t up to.

“Yes.”

“What’s your safe word?”

“Magazine.”

You watched as Dexter moved around the apartment, disappearing from your sight to retrieve a black, flat bag. When he returned to the kitchen counter, he seemed to unroll the bag, his back to you. You had to crane your neck to see, the vertebrae in your neck squishing together as you tried to get a glimpse of what lay inside. Something steely caught the light as he pulled it out. Then Dexter turned around, a pointed tool spinning under the force of his index finger. A Wartenberg wheel.

Your throat tightened, chills coursing down your spine as your body shifted in anticipation. Nothing could have prepared you for the next set of events. You were sure the next time you and Deb swapped stories, she would be the one taking notes.

Dexter tortured the fuck out of you.

He started with the pinwheel, rolling it all over your body. The pins were sharp enough to prickle your skin as they trailed along your arms, but it didn’t hurt. At first, it was even nice, relaxing almost. Then he moved to your chest, the wheel gliding from the hollow of your neck, down between your breasts and over you stomach.

As it neared the waistband of your soaked panties, you thought he’d continue further down and toward your aching pussy. But just as it reached below your navel, the wheel disappeared, making you huff.

That was your mistake. You’d worked yourself up by stupidly thinking that he’d go there right away. Foolish.

“I cut them up.”

You flinched at the sudden sound, startled, but he didn’t comment. The pinwheel resumed its path, drawing invisible lines across your wrists, elbows, shoulders, mimicking incisions. You closed your eyes, letting your imagination take over.

“Into evenly cut pieces,” he added.

Now the tool traveled lower, grazing your legs, running from your ankle to your bent knee, then up the sensitive skin of inner thigh. You trembled under his touch, your breath catching in your throat.

You reveled in the thought of this man, this predator, choosing to worship you instead of discarding you. Who knows, maybe one day, he would snap. But the possibility only made your body quake more.

He noticed, stopping the wheel just where your thigh met your hip. “Are you scared?”

“No.” you said, though your voice betrayed you, shaking on the single syllable.

But you really weren’t. If you were truly scared, you wouldn’t have misbehaved just now.

Before you could think about what would happen next, his hand struck, his palm landing sharply against your clothed pussy, and it was just then that you noticed he had put on his gloves, the leather making the sting more searing. You gasped, your hips jerking from the impact.

“If you thought you’d get a free pass, you were sorely mistaken.” He leaned over you, his hand sliding from your core to your thigh, squeezing the flesh. “Let’s try again. Are you scared?”

“No, sir.”

Other times, if you failed to call him sir right away, you’d get a warning. Maybe a slap to your thigh, or a firm squeeze of your neck. Never your pussy. Not at first.

“Such a brave girl.” This time, he ran the pinwheel slowly from your waist toward your chest. He altered its course, pressing it against your breast, applying more pressure as he reached your nipple, the sharp points dragging over it. “See? They could never measure up to you.”

Dexter turned the wheel again, guiding it slowly down your heaving stomach. You swore one of the metallic points grazed the bow on your panties, but he halted the motion, the wheel twisting 90 degrees to trace the hem of your underwear instead. Your hips tilted upwards instinctively, a desperate attempt to bring your pussy closer to his hand, but it was useless.

He continued to tease you, switching from one thigh to another, running it so close to your center, but never quite touching it. You kept waiting for that moment, but it never came.

“This is getting boring. I’ll go get something else,” he said nonchalantly, making his way toward the counter. Fucker.

“Wait,” you blurted without thinking. “I mean, please, sir…”

His footsteps paused, then drew closer again, stopping beside your head and smiling down at you.

“Did you want something?”

“Can you please touch my pussy?”

“Of course,” he said, a mocking lilt in his voice. “I just have to make my hands free,” he replied, taking a step toward the counter again, but you were quick to react.

“No!” You immediately regretted your words as he returned to the same spot. Dexter’s hand tilted your head, his gloved fingers squeezing your cheeks. The leather was firm and hot against your face. “I’m sorry, sir,” you added quickly, your voice muffled under his grip.

He leaned in closer. “You’d better realize your place, sweetheart. Or I’ll make sure this won’t be a fun experience.”

You apologized again, not forgetting the title, and he released your face, giving you a nod.

“Can you please touch my pussy with… that?”

Fuck your pride, right?

He raised his hand in front of his face, inspecting the pinwheel as though it had just appeared in his hand.

“Oh, this?” he said, feigning ignorance, clearly mocking you. “You want me to–” He moved the tool lazily through the air above your body, stopping just over your lower half “Touch you here?”

With a swift motion, the wheel skimmed between your legs, the pins grazing your panties. You didn’t even have the time to register it before he removed it again, but the electrifying sensation that came and went made you moan as your clit pulsed with excitement.  

“Yes, please.”

His nose brushed against yours as he leaned over again, and you thought he was going to kiss you. Instead, he mocked you again, his voice dripping with condescension as he cupped your chin. “Aw, you’re such a dirty girl, huh?”

His head dropped, his hair tickling your cheek as he glanced downward, watching his hand between your thighs. He made another contact with your pussy, slowly this time, focused. A mix of relief and hunger flooded you as he ran it up and down your wet underwear, the prickling sensation shooting through your nerves. “You want me to fuck you with it too? Are you that sick, hm?”

When you didn’t respond, he stopped and his head snapped towards you. His gloved hand left your face, only to land a slap across your cheek. The sting spread across your face, your skin burning under the impact.

“I didn’t fucking hear you.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

What can you say? Slapping didn’t really work on you. He knew that, it’s the reason he did it. So he could do it again.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He slapped you again, this time harder, the leather stinging even more than his bare hand.  

“If that’s what you wanted, sir, I’d take it.” You managed to keep your voice steady despite the heat in your cheek.

His lips curved into a smile. He stood up, walking towards the counter. “Jesus Christ,” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re lucky you found me. Anyone else would’ve committed your ass to a psychiatric hospital.”

“Fate,” you commented, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t punish you. Meaning you made him smile.

Dexter returned with a knife, and he dragged it across the chains, the clinking sound of metal scraping against metal echoing in the room.

He focused on your pussy now, rubbing the flat side of the knife against your clit, occasionally tapping it against you, and you half-expected he might nick the skin of your thighs if he wasn’t careful.

Then, Dexter flipped the knife again, teasing you with its blunt edge before bringing it to your breasts. He drew circles around your nipples with the tip of the knife, sharper than the pinwheel.

His body moved again, positioning himself behind you. His face, upside down, loomed above, gently cupping the underside of your chin, tilting your head back. The leather of his gloves gave you an unnerving sensation as his fingers held you in place. You felt the cold steel of the knife at your throat, running from one carotid to the other.

“Sometimes I cut their throats. But it’s not really my favorite style,” he said, the blade left your neck, drifting downward until it hovered over your left breast, settling directly above your wildly beating heart. He pressed the tip of the knife just enough for your skin to dip under its force. He could do anything to you. He could kill you right then and there.

“I love you,” you confessed for what felt like umpteenth time.

Dexter smiled, leaning down and placing a tender kiss on your forehead, all while controlling the force he still had on the knife.

He straightened, moving to your side again. His gloved fingers trailed over your stomach as he slid the knife under the hem of your underwear. The sharp edge pressed upwards, and you felt the fabric give way with a faint snick as the first small tear formed.

He moved the blade lower, repeating the motion. Each cut widened the tear, revealing the top of your clit. He shredded the panties until they were completely off, leaving you slickness glistening in the dim light and dripping onto the table beneath you.

Dexter removed his gloves and slid his fingers between your pussy lips, coating them in your wetness, before he brought them to his mouth. He just made you cum with his mouth, surely he wouldn’t–

But before you could finish your thought, he bent down over your torso and in a millisecond, his head was between your thighs. Mouth wide open, his tongue resting on his chin as he pressed it flat against your clit, and his upper lip collecting your juices straight from the source.

It was a single, devastating taste, but it was enough to make your legs tremble, the chains stopping you from closing them.

“Shit, I might as well eat you out again.”

Yeah, he might. Without anything in the way this time.  

It was just stroking your ego. It really made you proud, how his tongue was addicted to your pussy.

He brought the final tool of the night – a small brush that looked like it belonged in a makeup kit. It also looked like the softest instrumentof the night, but turned out to be the most torturing one.

The bristles touched your clit with featherlight strokes, maddeningly soft. The individual bristles tickled and stimulated every single nerve ending, sending vibrations through your entire body.

You gasped, your hips jerking involuntarily. Dexter worked the brush in slow, torturous circles, teasing your clit to the brink. Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, he stuffed two fingers inside your hole, wiggling them inside to massage the spot that made your eyes roll back in your head.

The synergy was overwhelming. Your body writhed against the chains, chasing the orgasm building rapidly within you. But just as the climax was about to crash over you, he stopped. His fingers withdrew and the brush disappeared, your back arching in desperation as you felt the pleasure simmer out, leaving your abdomen hollow and aching from the loss.

“Please, sir, can I come?”

“Of course you can,” he said in a soft voice.

But he didn’t let you. He edged you again and again, pushing you to the brink, only to yank you back. He was playing with you, letting you know that your body wasn’t yours tonight. It was under his control. You were his.

The brush was drenched in your juices at this point, ruined just like your panties and your throbbing cunt. A few tears slipped from your eyes, mixing with the sweat slicking your skin. So you begged, desperate for the release. You begged until he finally finger-fucked, plunging his fingers into you and pumping them relentlessly. His thumb rubbed your puffy clit, sending you spiraling into an earth-shattering orgasm.

You came hard, your juices spilling over his hand and splattering onto his watch. He only pulled his fingers out to spank your clit, amplifying the intensity of your orgasm. At one point, he reached for the discarded glove, fisting it and placing harsh smacks against your sore pussy. You screamed, and after he landed his last smack, feeling you were nearing another orgasm, he switched the rough sensation of the leather for the softness of his tongue, firmly pressing against you and shaking his head from side to side, letting you cum into you his mouth.

You could barely take it and you were scared he might pull out a vibrator, because he liked to do that when you came twice in the span of two minutes. But he didn’t, removing his glistening face from your center and standing up. You just laid there, your body a racing circuit for the endorphins and oxytocin at this point.

Dexter gave you only a few second before he undid the chains, the clinking of metal barely audible over the pounding in your ears. He didn’t let you move, though, keeping you sprawled on table as he shifted your body higher until your head hung off the edge.

He stood in front of your face, and you knew what he wanted. You reached for the button of his cargo pants, undoing them and pulling them down along with his underwear. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy. Gorgeous. You didn’t waste a moment, leaning forward, licking the bead of precum from his tip before taking him into your mouth.

Dexter groaned, the sound vibrating through you. Soon, he took over, thrusting into your throat as he held you down. One hand pressed against your neck, feeling the way you swallowed his cock, while the other pinched and tugged at your nipples.

You gagged around him, bubbles forming in the corners of your mouth as you struggled to keep up. This time, your eyes outright stung from the tears that were forcing their way out, but you didn’t stop. It wasn’t until you coughed, your throat tightening involuntarily and squeezing around him, that he pulled out with a groan.

You gasped for air, your chest heaving, but he didn’t give you long to recover. His hand gripped your neck and yanked you up, forcing you into a kneeling position on the table. You just sat there, dazed, your hands resting in your lap like the picture of innocence. Messy hair, glassy eyes, and swollen lips.

Dexter kissed them, shoving his tongue into your mouth, tasting himself and making you taste yourself again. His beard scratched against your sensitive skin, adding to the long list of stimuli.

You dared to sneak your hand away from your lap, circling your fingers around his cock and stroking him slowly. Your thumb swiped over the sensitive head and he moaned into your mouth before his head fell back. You leaned forward, your lips brushing against Dexter’s neck, sucking on his pulse point and grazing it with your teeth.

You moved your hand up and down, and Dexter’s moans and gasps grew louder and more frantic. You quickened your pace, his hips jerking into your hand as he chased his own orgasm. You twisted your hand, and he came with a guttural groan. His cum spilled onto your stomach, warm and sticky, and his hand shot out to grip the hair at the back of your neck, yanking you into another kiss as he came down from his high.

When his breathing slowed, you awkwardly shifted your legs over the edge of the table, letting them dangle as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You pulled him close, burying your face in his chest, a content sigh escaping you as you enjoyed the warmth, the softness of his body.

He cupped your head, his thumb brushing small crescents against your scalp with returned tenderness as he let out a soft sigh of his own, his chest rising and falling against you.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t pull away to look at him, your body too spent to do much more than to snuggle deeper into his chest and squeeze his torso.

“Better than,” you mumbled.

“I know this wasn’t what you wanted,” he said.

That made you lift your head. You looked at him, your brows drawing together in confusion.

“But this,” he gestured to the table, his brow raising, “is the only table I want to see you on. The only restraints I ever want to see on you. And I need you to get it through that thick skull of yours that there’s nothing sexy about what I do.”

“In my dreams there is,” you said, your lips curving into a teasing smile.

“YN,” he warned.

“I know,” you relented with a roll of your eyes, his brows raising, daring you to be a brat in this moment. “For the record, it was better than what I wanted.”

You smiled and he kissed you again, silencing any further rebellion. When you shivered against him, he pulled back and cleaned you up before ordering you to throw on a shirt.

“Yes, sir,” you replied cheekily, adding a playful salute for good measure.

“I will spank your ass if you don’t get it in the shower in ten seconds,” he said, pulling his own pants up. Would that be so bad? You bit your lip to keep from grinning and headed into the bathroom, while he cleaned the table.

By the time you switched places, you felt refreshed, fucked out just right as every muscle in your body ached with a sweet kind of soreness. You heated up his dinner while making yourself a quick sandwich. Just as you set his plate down, he walked out of the bathroom. You grabbed your sandwich and set down, with Dexter soon joining you.

When you finished your meals, the two of you migrated to the couch. He rested his head on your stomach, while you draped your legs over his shoulders.

Your fingers played with the freshly washed hair, soft and silky from the shampoo. You twirled the strands around your fingers lazily, and his quiet purrs filled the room as you trailed your fingertips along the curve of his ears, scraping gently at the sensitive spots behind them. That sound, half sigh, half growl, might’ve been your favorite thing in the world.

You bent down, the movement uncomfortable and your muscles protesting as you pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. But the way it scrunched affectionately under your touch made the discomfort worth it.

[vincentsleftear]

Just remembered we’ve got a presidential debate this thursday

[oh-no-its-bird]

Fic where, in practicing to get edo tensei right, Orochimaru uses Izuna as a test subject and tries to substitute DNA to make it work, using Suigetsu's bc like it's extra flexible or whatever bc shape change

Edo tensei mermaid Izuna locked in a tube somewhere in Oro's lab,,

He's SO mad about it and has literally no information ab what's going on at all bc hes locked in a fucking tube !!

Bonus points if Orochimaru doesn't even specifically know who he is

They unearthed him w the rest of the founders on a whim but bc no one really requested him specifically, the body just kinda sat there and eventually got mixed in w the rest of the Uchiha corpses, till Orochimaru requests an Uchiha corpse and they shrug and send him over

He still has Madara's eyes too (left alone either by oversight / or bc they decided not to pull them before he got mixed in w the other bodies, who had by then already gotten scooped of their eyes so they assumed he'd already been harvested)

Ok but like. No one even tells him what happened/where he is/that madara made the village. Why would anyone?? The only one Izuna sees regularly is Orochimaru, and he doesn't know those facts would matter??

Izuna doesn't even know what Konoha IS, he isn't gonna recognize the name

From Izuna's perspective, he died in his bed and then BOOM. Tank time.

Orochimaru might tell him it's been some years since his death (thinking he died in the massacre) and even if Izuna doesn't believe him bc like, enemy, enemy territory, he sure as fuck probably won't be thinking "Ah yes it's been decades since my death and my brother went against my dying wishes to make that village"

Tho he might get nervous and start picking up those cues when he sees the tech

Oro mentions offhand that the Uchiha were all killed and Izuna immediatley assumes the Senju won the war and loses it

He'd figure it out eventually obviously (probably after being set free, most likley by Sasuke w Suigetsu) But he'd also probably keep that to himself, bc like, enemy territory n stuff

Mermaid shapeshifter Izuna terrorizes the shinobi world,, Sasuke doesn't know what he just unleashed.

Ok actually but like. Suigetsu's shape-shifting but bc Izuna has a fire chalra nature, make it liquid fire shape-shifting. Fuckin, fire mermaid Izuna. He has an awful time retaining his form and actually for the first chunk of time, him being in that tube is genuinley just for the best. He keeps turning into liquid fire with no real solid body and can't put himself back together for hours.

Izuna hears his brother is still alive and running Akatsuki and is so down to clown till he realizes THATS NOT HIS FUCKING BROTHER HOW DARE YOU USE HIS NAME

Anyways oh my god Izuna on team Taka,,

He and Sasuke would be SUCH a dynamic actually, they look alike so much?? Sasuke doesn't recognize him but he's clearly a close relation, so there's some mystery there. Sasuke is like super shaken by finding a member of his clan and Izuna, by that point aware that apparently the rest of his clan is dead, is sticking to him like GLUE. Sasuke is bitchy little brother coded and Izuna understands this is probably karma bc he is also bitchy little brother coded

They probably clash a lot, especially bc both are expecting to be in charge here, but ultimately I think they'd get along better than Sasuke does most people, and there's also that bonus vulnerability of like. Izuna is an older Uchiha boy who's trying to brother him (with a noticeably different brother-ing style to Itachi too) and Sasuke has been alone for so, so long.

Sasuke accidentally calls him nii-san then promptly has several break downs about it

Suigetsu and Izuna either get along ALARMINGLY well or they hate eachother. I think I wanna go with the first bc it sounds more fun. They couldn't talk to eachother in the tanks but they could still see eachother, so maybe they kind of developed some sort of code to communicate?

They are "cause problems on purpose" friends. They're also "wdym I can't kill him???" *looks of genuine confusion* buddies. They're giving Sasuke the biggest headache actually, someone stop them. If you leave them to "take care" of a problem, there will be carnage.

Also, like, Izuna literally has Suigetsu's DNA in him. That's a thing.

Mmm maybe some complex thoughts ab how Izuna has effectively become a bloodline thief against his will (the ULTIMATE taboo for shinobi from his era) and he's like, actually fucked up about it.

Running joke where they refer to each other as cousins, could be funny. They argue over who's the bastard child (it's Izuna obviously but he won't just take that title lying down)

Izuna is like, in his 20s, and Karin is around 16 or 17 at this time I think?? She definatley has a bit of a crush on him (which helps take the edge off Sasuke) but like, he's not acknowledging that beyond patting her on the head. She'll get over it eventually. (Sasuke hides behind Izuna when Karin is trying to flirt w him and Izuna absoloutley laughs at them both)

Izuna is actually really impressed w Karin's sensing abilities specifically. I think he'd be a bit on edge around her at first, bc Uzumaki -> Senju ally. But he'd quickly assume she's a deserter (he has no idea the Uzumaki are pretty much wiped out rip) and becomes cautiously chill after a minute or two (also when he first escapes, he REALLY doesn't have the luxury to pick and choose his allies. He's instantly attached to Sasuke and cautiously fond of Suigetsu, and Karin seems to have Sasuke's trust at least, so he'll keep an eye on it but otherwise trust Sasuke's judgment)

Izuna and Karin besties arc where they paint eachothers nails is a must. I love the take that Izuna is really into fashion n stuff and he and Karin should like, trade hair tips or smthn. Karin knows modern soap brands where as Izuna bought his soaps from clan vendors who no longer fucking exist, so like, it's definatley helpful.

Karin is the only one of them to have any real hint of where tf Izuna came from (tho even she doesn't have the full details) it'd be cool if she was the one to figure out more details ab his general mystery— maybe something about her chakra sensing gives her a hint as to how old he really is?? Or she finds the paper trail that hints towards the bodies being mixed up???? Idk but she deserves to have an "aha!" moment

Also Izuna's medical knowledge/standards are NOT up to modern and Karin is so mad about it, she's giving him hella lessons on first aid n shit and he's very, very interested in all this free medical knowledge

I know the least about Jugo so bear with me on this one pls— I think Izuna would find Jugo to be pretty fascinating as a person actually. He enjoys tentatively poking him with sticks, and comes to genuinley like him as a person (when he's calm) pretty quickly

Also cats love Izuna so he gets bonus points from Jugo bc of that, they can bond while petting Izuna's contracted cats or smthn idk

Yeah I really don't know much ab Jugo so that's all I have to offer sorry

Ok let's backtrack a bit, back to Orochimaru ->

Fun scene towards the very start of the fic, where Izuna still has no fucking clue what's going on, but recognizes Orochimaru as a member of the Orochi clan. He says as much, and Orochimaru has to pause.

No one's mentioned his clan to him in years. They haven't been relevant in Konoha since Orochimaru was born— even before that, they were barley relevant. Izuna should not know who they are.

(The only reason he does know is bc they had a neutral to positive relationship w the Uchiha back in the warring era, and Izuna had visited them once before)

Immediatley, Orochimaru is squinting at this guy. He's giving Danzo a ring asking who exactly he got sent over, but Danzo doesn't actually have anything to offer him??? The paperwork is a mess and there were a LOT of Uchiha. He's not registered as a shinobi tho.

Hmmmm.... ok.

Orochimaru is suddenly aware there's some kind of mystery here now, which is dangerous for Izuna. Izuna is, again, in enemy territory, and he's able to pick up on the fact that Orochimaru doesn't actually know who he is. This ofc means that HE sure as hell won't be telling him.

Maybe he bares his teeth and sarcastically says he's the second coming of Uchiha Madara (not even that big of a lie when u think ab it)

Pivoting time ->

Izuna is listed in the data books as like, being equally as talented as Madara and I think we should talk ab that more actually

I love Tobirama but he really did get him by surprise

Izuna just got cocky and taken by surprise!!

HE DIDNT EVEN GET COCKY HE JUST LOGICALLY DIDNT EXPECT TOBIRAMA TO FUCKING INVENT TELEPORTATION

Then he went down in the history books both in canon and out of it as the weakest of the 4, that's so tragic

Izuna gets mermaid edo tenseid and (once people know who he is) everyone is like "Ok well at least he's uhh. The weakest of the 4 right?? I mean tobirama killed him when they were like only 19/20 so we'll probably be fine???"

Then he just fucking bodies them all bc hes a nightmare actually AND on whatever special test trial edo tensei steroids they gave him

Izuna is fueled on rage and spite and he's full up on both

Imagine he gets the full story of everything that happened while he was dead too, like.

Ok so Madara goes against his EXPRESS dying wishes and makes his village. (what the fuck!!) Then backs out (yay!!) but in an awful way that effectively fucks over the entire clan for years to come (nii-san what the FUCK)

Then gets literally backstabbed by Hashirama (HE FUCKING TOLD YOU!!! WHAT DID HE FUCKING SAY!!!!!)

Then the Uchiha seem to thrive and like. Ok. He's still mad about it, but at least something... kind of nice came out of it.

THEN BOTH THE VILLAGE AND MADARA'S(?????) SCHEMES KILL THEIR ENTIRE CLAN

Izuna is SO mad at literally everyone, holy shit. The only one safe from his rage is Hikaku, god rest his poor, poor soul

Actually, I think it'd be funny if Izuna was like, indescribably extra awful mad at everyone— but then is like. Normal mad amounts at Tobirama, who was a bitch but at least didn't seem to carry on a personal fucking vendetta against the Uchiha like EVERYONE ELSE INCLUDING FUCKING MADARA FOR SOME GODDAMN REASON

Izuna is going like, "FUCK you, FUCK you, OH, EXTRA FUCK YOU—" then squints at Tobirama and goes "...fuck you." Then goes back to screaming

To be clear, Tobirama absolutely contributed to the end of the Uchiha, but like. A) it'd be funny, and B) at least his seemed slightly less on purpose than literally everyone else

There's also I think a difference of like. Izuna never expected Tobirama to suddenly turn around and be pro Uchiha

Where as everyone else (again, including his brother!!) Was like. A genuine betrayal

Tobirama fucking over the clan was never a surprise

He never pretended to be on their side (like Hashirama lowkey did)

Tobirama vs Izuna but it's them getting to relive their rivalry where as Izuna vs literally anyone else is emotionally charged as hell and filled with demented screaming

Leaving it there for now, I might actually try to write this one but who tf knows

[min1check]

Leto! Joker x side chick! Reader ig…

1248 words

Barely proofread ts so i’m so sorry if u see errors

pt 2

Description: You work at one of Joker’s clubs and he starts to take an interest in you….

Every night there would be presents and money left on my small table in my small ass kitchen in this small ass apartment. 

It all started when I finally learned the real identity of my boss’s boss’s boss at the club I worked at. I really needed money desperately for my family who lived out of the country. I’m currently working on the papers so they can gain legal presence but until then I need to work hard and study hard. 

At the club I worked at, they paid me better than most places and I would be able to go to university in the daytime and work at night. 

The club was pretty high class, there were many high profile politicians who were VIPs. Given that they were even at a club, they were most if not all sleezebags who tried to hit on the staff to the point that I could file sexual harassment charges. But nevermind that. 

The club was so high class and full of VIPs that I didn’t expect it to be owned by the biggest crime lord in this city, the Joker. This whole city was corrupt in and out. Even if I tried to file those sexual harassment charges I would’ve been shut up instantly. 

When I saw this head of green hair and his pale deathly looking skin and his red lips that I couldn’t tell if it was lipstick or blood, I tried my best to not be noticed by him. 

Though he looked like a corpse he was extremely attractive. Maybe in another universe I would actually try to get at him. Well and if his fellow Clown Queen of Crime didn't exist. She frightens me even more than Joker. Well actually that’s a lie but as a girl I can say that we’re ruthless when it comes to boyfriends and husbands and such. Too blind and in too much love to use actual reason.

Harley’s beautiful though they genuinely look good together. 

I went over to Joker’s table where he was talking to (or more like taunting) his client to drop off the drinks. It seemed that everyone else already knew what his regular drink was and his client’s. 

I tried my best not to mess up or to not loudly drop the drinks because at this moment I could actually not stop my whole body from shaking. They continued talking about their deal without even looking at me. I kept a friendly smile on my face. 

I walked off a bit quickly because I was terrified. Yet I felt like someone was staring right at me. I quickly turned my head and all I could see in that moment was Joker with his usual devilishly grin looking straight at me. My blood ran cold. 

When I was out of his sight I closed my eyes and started to pray. 

‘Dear God, please forgive me for any sins I have committed for I do not want to die tonight. I have too much to live for so please don’t let me die. Thank you for everything you have blessed me with Lord, amen.’ 

I was crying internally. 

Literally was gonna kill myself right then and there. But I brought myself back to reality and back to work. 

Whenever I would come to work the Joker would be there with Harley. 

I literally think I’m going crazy because I think he keeps looking straight at me…. With his girlfriend/wife/partner in crime which was even worse. Yeah he was hot but cheating men are scum of the Earth. And Joker’s a mass murderer and other stuff. To be honest I kinda forgot I’ve been too busy with school to care about politics….

I finally got a shift off and a day off of school today. I’m just gonna sleep and lounge around and be fat. I got out of my bed to go get some more ice cream in my kitchen. 

It felt a bit unnerving when I was in the kitchen, like someone was watching me. I shook off the feeling because I had locks on every single window and door. The crime in my country is a bit bad so Gotham wasn’t that much different. 

As soon as I turned around to go back to my bedroom with my ice cream in hand…

“Boo!” 

“What the fuck?!” I screamed so loud that I dropped my bowl of ice cream and it shattered. 

“The look on your face doll… it’s so… funny!” The intruder was the Joker and he couldn’t and wouldn’t stop laughing at my reaction. 

“…” I just stood there in silence thinking about how that bowl was so expensive…

I didn’t want my floor to be sticky so I started picking up shards of the really expensive bowl. 

“Aww~ Are you.. mad doll~?” He teased me with his usual grin. 

“Not really, I’m just a little sad because this bowl was really expensive.” I sighed to myself. 

“If that’s it then here.” Joker tossed money at me. 

“Um… It’s okay I’ll just work for it back.” My mom always taught me that I shouldn’t accept money and that I should always offer to pay so I gave that money back to him. 

“Just take it Doll, think of it as my~ first~ gift~ to~ you~” he really emphasized on the last part like really. 

He got comfy and sat down on a table chair as I cleaned the floor from the sticky mess. 

That sounds a little wrong, I just mean my ice cream trust…

After cleaning it all, it occurred to me…

Why and how did the Joker get into my apartment…

My blood ran cold. I feel like I could turn into a reptile with how much my blood goes cold. 

“I liked seeing you at my club but I like seeing you in this shaggy apartment more.” He looked at me. 

“Um… how did you get in here?” I spoke quietly afraid I would somehow strike a nerve. 

“It was easy! I broke your window.” He spoke like he just finished climbing Mt. Everest. 

My mouth dropped to the floor. 

Like I tried to close it but it just wouldn't. 

“…” 

“What~? Cat got your tongue Doll?” He grinned. 

I’m actually going to kill myself. 

At this point I hope he pulls out the glock 19 and shoots me….

Wait but all my windows are barred up…

I looked into my living room and realized there was glass everywhere and the metal bar was stretched apart enough where it would fit the Joker perfectly. 

Calculating the cost in my head I actually started to cry. Tears ran down my face. 

I would be fine if I picked up a few extra shifts but I had to study more because finals were coming up. I’ll have to cut down on food and sleep…

The Joker awkwardly patted my back. 

“Here’s some more money Princess.” 

“I.. Cant accept it.” I said between sniffles and pushed his money back to him. 

He suddenly grabbed my head with both his hands and made me stare him in the eye. 

“Take. The. Money. Princess. Or else I’ll shove it down your throat.” His face was way too close to mine. 

“Thank you…” I tried my best to smile while he was still manhandling my head. 

He kissed me out of literally nowhere. 

My blood went cold again. 

I don’t want to be a mistress or some side bitch….

And Harley’s gonna kill me……

Yet it felt so good. 

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 56

part 1 | part 55 | ao3

March

"Steve, honey," Claudia calls from the living room, where he can hear her shuffling around to get her things ready for work — the rustle of a jacket, the clink of keys against her thermos. "Do you need anything before you go?"

"I'm fine, Ma!" Steve answers.

And he is. He is fine. It’s been three weeks, and Steve is fine! He has a date tonight with a girl he doesn’t care about, and he's gonna cheer on Lucas at the championship game, and the other day at work he got a fifty cent per hour raise. And sure, his nightmares are worse than ever and his head aches all the time, and he’s had some weirdly persistent sinus infection or some shit going on, but he only teared up once this week while jerking off to thoughts of Eddie, so.

All in all, not bad.

He shoves a plain bagel in his mouth and rushes to leave the house; passes Claudia on the way out, who's now rapping her knuckles impatiently against Dustin’s door and asking, “Dusty, what’s going on in there? You’re gonna be late!" to which Dustin replies with a panicked shriek: “DON’T COME IN, I’M NAKED!”

Jesus Christ. "Deafen my other ear, why don't you?" Steve mutters under his breath.

He throws Ma a parting wave and heads out to pick up Robin so he can take her to school before his shift starts. She looks nicer than usual, and she won’t stop reapplying her mascara, and by the time Object of My Desire starts playing on the radio Steve is practically begging her to just suck it up and end this will-they-won’t-they thing with Vickie because it’s been months of obvious flirting and Robin still won’t make a move.

“I listen to you, and now look at me!” he argues, as if the handful of pointless dates he’s used to distract himself from Eddie are anything to look at. “Boom. Back in business.“

“Mm,” she objects, a little ‘you’re so full of shit’ frown on her face. “Not the same thing.”

Don’t say it, you bitch, don’t even—

“You ask out a girl and she says no…”

Oh, thank fuck. Steve sags in relief and licks the corner of his mouth as he listens to her rant, grateful that she’s just working the small town homophobia angle and very graciously not pointing out how half-hearted and sad his attempts to move on with his life have been. It’s a small mercy he repays by rambling about girls and boobies and girls who definitely like boobies until she scowls so hard at him that she smudges her mascara and has to apply another coat.

—

Dustin calls the store some time around lunch. Asks if Steve wants to sub in for Lucas at tonight’s Hellfire campaign, which, first of all, fuck you — he’s been helping Lucas practice for months now, he’s not about to miss this game — and secondly:

“What, to hang out with you and Eddie the Freak Munson?” he asks, idly playing with a slinky. “Uh, yeah. I’ll pass.”

"Dude."

"What?"

"You can’t just call him names because you’re pissed at him! That’s not cool!”

Steve rolls his eyes and tugs the slinky so hard it flops off the counter’s edge.

“Look,” Dustin says, his voice dipping into that low and slow and trustworthy thing that makes Steve want to snap the kid’s non-existent collarbones. “I know you won’t tell me what happened, but whatever it was, he’s sorry, okay? He’s really, really sorry. And he asks me about you, like, every day; if I didn’t know any better I’d swear he was in love with you or something.” Steve chokes on his own spit, and Dustin just keeps going; steps right over Steve’s corpse to continue his impassioned plea. “Besides, friends forgive each other! Right, Steve?”

Goddammit. Steve really regrets saying those exact words in that exact order the last time Lucas and Dustin had a fight. “Man, you can’t just use my own brotherly advice against me.”

“I can, and I will.” Wow. What a little shit. “Seriously, dude, come on! How many times do I have to pass on his apology messages before you just talk to him?”

How many times? How many times?

Steve doesn’t know.

He just knows he’s not ready; knows that as soon as he talks to Eddie, it’ll make it all real. It’ll be over for good. Whatever words they exchange next will get etched into the headstone of the thing they briefly had. He opens his mouth to say something, to try and make sense of the vortex in his head, but all he gets for the effort is a fresh migraine coming on.

He’s saved from answering by the doorbell’s chime. “I got some customers,” he says over Dustin's squawk of protest. “Gotta call you back, bye.”

—

part 57

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[aychama]

L: I told you to leave me alone

R: I know Sir, but I'm your advisor and I (unfortunately) have to supervise you too.

Raymond sighed as he read the papers in his hands while following Leshy.

L: Do you think I need your supervision? I was doing just fine before you arrived. I'll continue to do so. Leave

R: I can't. We still need to go over a lot of things, we're far behind schedule to discuss real matters which is urgent, I need you to sign the agreement of imported goods from Anchor Deep and the people in the neglected villages are revo-

L: Fine! How many!?

R: Pardon?

L: How many papers, Raymond?

Leshy turned to him with a momentarily anger. To him, Raymond was simply, yapping.

R: Uh, about... 1, 2, 3...

He began counting, sounds of the paper coming to Leshy's ear.

R: 86 papers, sir.

L: Well good luck to you with that. Just copy my signature.

R: Wait, me? Sir I can't just decide on the matters of the whole kingdom!

L: Aren't you my "advisor"? That's your thing, to decide.

R: Yes, I give advice! I don't rule over a kingdom!

L: Too bad so damn sad, I don't feel like listening you talk about dumb problems I won't be paying attention to anyway.

Leshy chuckled a bit and walked towards his work room. Raymond followed right behind, a bit panicked by the king's nonchalant decision. Leshy closed the door behind him, Raymond nearly making it inside.

R: You can't just ignore it! I promise it won't take long... Don't you care about your people? They are suffering! They are doing their best but barely surviving with what you let them have! Not only that, you've added taxes when I was gone!

L: My people are doing fine. You're worrying too much for something so lame, Ray. If I'm really that shitty of a king, go on. Fill my "so important" papers. And I thought you were smart enough to think that.

Raymond rubbed his temples after setting the papers aside. He took a deep breath. Leshy just sat one of the comfortable chairs and leaned back.

R: (God, I prefer hell over trying to convince this man child to do anything) It won't be long before everything breaks down to chaos if you continue to neglect your duties, sir.

L: ...

R: Maybe the other crowns were right about you after all...

Leshy immediately got up and turned towards Raymond.

L: What did those old bastards say about me?

R: Just the usual sir.

He smiled. Good thing Leshy was, well, blind.

R: That you were too young and naive to understand how a kingdom works. The red crown even said he was surprised that you haven't got hunted by your people.

L: That... Grim faced cat! You know what!? I rule my kingdom just fine! I'm the best king out there! They wish they were me! I can rule their kingdoms along with mine if I wanted!

R: Yes sir. You could...

L: Read me the damn papers Raymond! I'm gonna finish these papers faster than any of those living corpses!

R: (Works every time)

___________________________

It was night time when they were able to finish all those papers. Raymond had lit a candle long time ago to read better and Leshy seemed to listen.

R: This is the last paper... It's, it's over

L: Finally, for fuck's sake...

The worm yawned and leaned back. Raymond put the papers in order and set aside, before leaning back like his King.

R: Sir your profanity.

L: Ray I'm too tired to care.

R: You're right... I should be too tired to ask.

L: What's the time?

R: The moon is up by a hand. It's too late.

L: You don't say.

The advisor yawned and drank a glass of water. The King on the other hand rubbed where his eyes should be. It was rare but, sometimes, his eyes would bleed again, his wounds so easy to tear open. The cat panicked at the sight, immediately his tiredness vanishing by worry that overtook.

R: You're bleeding!

L: Don't-

Leshy hissed at him when Raymond tried to touch his face so he backed away. Raymond looked at the blood with sadness for his King.

R: Does it... Does it still hurt? Does it hurt bad?

He asked with a shakey voice as he reached for Leshy's face again. Surprisingly, the short tempered king didn't pull back the second time. He leaned to the touch, to the feeling. Raymond's palm got bloodied as he wiped it.

L:Not anymore. Not like the way it used to...

R: It's good... I think. Is it just pitch black..?

L: People assume so. But no. My vision is my thoughts. I can see just, not in the way you'd expect

R: How so? How can you just- See?

The King chuckled at the advisor's weirded out question.

L: I already know what something looks like. I know colors, I know shapes, I know sounds, the materials, the feelings. And, if you know it like I do, it feels like your whole imagination is your sight.

R: That's... Not as bad as I thought

L: You think about going blind?

R: No, heh, of course not... I think about, how hard it must be for you.

L: You think about me? Now that just makes me shy~

R: My King-

Raymond gave a tired and short giggle as he blushed. Even though he hated his job, he didn't hate the worm necessarily.

L: What? Can I not be curious about why you think about me Ray?

R: With all due respect, that's not the point, sir. I work for you, it's natural that I worry for the one I'm working so close with.

L: And somehow I'm someone you must worry for? The levels you bring me down to.

R: You make it sound like everything is just fine! Is there really nothing bad about being blind?

L: There are bad sides of it of course

R: Like what?

Leshy smiled, putting his hands on top of Raymond's.

L: Knowing I'll never actually see you

AU8WUW8UQOAPAAJUDJDAAAAAAAASAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

HELLO???? THIS IS SO GOOD?!?!?!?!?! How dare you send me this awsome gift as an anon 😭😭😭 Thank you so much omg I didnt think such a simple drawing would inspire someone to write something like this!

THANK YOU ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Sorry if i scared you

Mae Murray: Submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i all this the tale of the girl who gets possessed by her sentient abortion Murray: but don't worry, this abortion just wants to have fun Murray: abortions just wanna Murray: they just wanna Murray: abortions just wanna have fun

Murray: so this story is about odie Dean Koontz: :) Murray: who is NOT the dog from Garfield Koontz: :(

Murray: odie has an abortion but it doesn't really take Murray: instead it possesses her body Murray: and makes her dance Murray: and kill her rapist Mary Shelley: haha yes… YES! Murray: and also some shitty cops George Romero: haha yes… YES! Romero: ACAB, baby!

Murray: as a real southern queer, odie goes to the big queer club in Little Rock Murray: she looks around at all the real southern queers, real salt of the earth folks, not like those fancy pants snob queers you get up in New England King: hey! King: now hold on a gosh darn second here!

Murray: as a southern queer, odie thinks about how much pride she has as a southern queer but also as a member of the southern queer community Murray: as a southern queer, you gotta express your pride

King: gosh mae there's some pretty unbelievable stuff happening in this story! Murray: you don't believe a woman could be possessed by a sentient space abortion that leads her to kill her rapist? King: no i mean King: i didn't know there were queers in the south Murray: Murray: you've never been lower than new Hampshire have you? King: whoa i don't go to new Hampshire! King: i heard there's dragons there

King: but actually i was referring to this bit where armadillos eat a corpse King: i mean, come on, really? King: i just don't buy it

King: I've seen armadillos and, goshdarnit, those little guys are just too cute to be corpse eaters Barker: what about the possum? you don't object to the possum? King: oh a possum would 100% eat a corpse

Barker: but it's equally cute King: it most certainly is not King: have you ever even seen a possum clive? King: awful animals Koontz: i think all animals are good Barker: hey that's real nice dean

Murray: what do any of you even know about armadillos? Murray: you're all a bunch of high falutin' yankees Murray: as a real southern queer of the real south Murray: i know armadillos

Murray: i'm real southern pride! Murray: i eat the cheese dip trail and shit E. Fay Jones's Thorncrown Chapel in Eureka Springs!! My daddy was the deliverance banjo boy and my mama was a big pot of okra!! Barker: how mushy was that okra? Murray: SO MUSHY!

Murray: after having completed everything it needed to do, the sentient abortion says "i have to go now. my planet needs me" Murray: that's right, it was from space the whole time! Poe: that raises a lot of questions Murray: we're not gonna talk about that

Murray: anyway, who's up for a real southern treat? Murray: i brought you all some deep fried chicken innards! Poe: King: Barker: Koontz: Lovecraft:

King: when you say innards, you mean meat right? Murray: um well Murray: it's technically "meat" in that it was part of an animal

Murray: you know those parts that you usually don't eat, on account of them being too disgusting? Murray: you know, the parts generally considered unfit for human consumption? Murray: that you might feed to a dog that you don't particularly like? Poe: King: Barker: Koontz: Lovecraft:

Mary Shelley: sup fuckers? Shelley: i hear you got the forbidden meat? King: mary no! Shelley: i'm not scared of no meat, i'll give it a- Shelley: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT Murray: deep fried bladder Shelley: ewwwww Shelley: you deep fry it????

Shelley: that's disgusting, that is Shelley: where i come from Shelley: you don't deep fry that shit Shelley: you put it in a pie

Murray: oh i got a pie for you Murray: real heads know

[starberry-cupcake]

I had time to read just one chapter but I wanted to make a recap anyway because the next chapter is like 360000 pages long (I may be exaggerating slightly) and I'm not sure if tomorrow I'll be able to update, so we're doing just gideon tonight (I have a feeling she'd love that wording)

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

CHAPTER 48

gideon tells harrow that she should have probably killed off mercygirl but she wasn't "thinking straight"

when has she, though

she decided to keep going further into the emperor's infested bolthole

she finds a lot of corpses of bees that have been killed already

and thinks harrowcita would have appreciated how bad and nasty everything looked

then follows the corpses and the scent of despair and murder and finds yandere twin at the end of it, standing like a pulp fiction killer

gonna illustrate with a susan denberg movie poster I find appropriate

yandere twin gets emotional and goes "harry, you're—"

to which gideon answers with "Alive, bitch"

gideon says that she "had long since ascended to the rank of double douchbag" which I consider another memorable instance of chad catching strays

and gideon has some Issues to Resolve with yandere twin

and by resolve, I mean fix them with Violence

she starts getting upset at all the things yandere twin did to harrow, which include "faked to your fucking face like she couldn't see a corpse that was obviously there"

I SAID I THOUGHT SHE WAS GASLIGHTING HARROW

gideon is very determined to fix all of this diplomatically

by beating the crap out of her

they start a banter that will be an incredibly entertaining thing to witness for the next pages

I can't make it justice in a recap tbh

I was just basically like

gideon will, in a very persistent way, throughout the conversation, tell yandere twin that harrow will never love her

yandere twin wants to give gideon funny nicknames, like who would do that, that's so disrespectful, I can't even fathom doing that at all

not to gideon, anyway

yandere twin says that mercygirl disappeared, augustine dropped out and gideon the first is trying to handle the stuff on his own, kinda?

she's surprised by the fact that mercygirl tried to kill harrow

"why did you ascend to be a lyctor?" "ultimate power—and posters of my face" "Fair"

they find augustine being useless in a hallway and, when he sees gideon's eyes, he panics and bolts out of there

these lyctors are all a joke istg each and every one of them

except for, I think it was cassiopeia, who had the ceramics collection, she's fine

well no, I don't condone planet murder for ceramics, but she gets a bit more points than the rest for them

there's a lot of talk about buttholes between gideon and yandere twin and I'm not above that, since I've been making bolthole jokes this whole time

gideon is living for the nudes in yandere twin's room

nobody is surprised about that

but there's no time to think about the nudes or buttholes anymore when yandere twin pulls out a harrow letter for gideon

gideon is going through it even before opening it, as are we

she finds her glasses and a note that says

"one flesh, one end"

"Fuck one flesh, one end, harrow" "Because all I ever wanted you to do was eat me. Which is, coincidentally, what your mother said to me last night"

always so poetic, ortus can't even get close to this level

gideon keeps telling yandere twin that she has no chance with harrow

"I hated those eyes in her face; I kept expecting to smell hair gel."

chad catching strays at every turn, I live

gideon explains about harrow being in love with ice cube barbie

"I know the signs of Nonagesimitis"

and yandere twin goes "All that fuss about the Saint of Duty. What a little hypocrite"

which I guess is because of the whole gideon the first and not!dulcinea thing? but that's like totally different form whatever this is???

there are layers to the corpse and lyctor relationships, you guys

it's a very wide spectrum

gideon says that her connection to harrow has to do with her being her cav which...ok, gideon

"Nonagesimus, you hating me always meant more than anyone else in this hot and stupid universe loving me. At least I'd had your full attention"

gideon rn:

yandere twin isn't deterred by all of this information and thinks harrow and her have an eternity to bond because they're lyctors

as if they weren't doomed right now but ok girl, go for your dreams, I guess

gideon threatens yandere twin not to be nasty with harrow and to get away from her with her nasty necro ways

yandere twin goes "What can I say, I love a little gall on gall"

which absolutely wins gideon over for a sec

"Reverse everything I just told you. Let's get married"

I knew the horny puns would help them bond

it's the little things sometimes that bring us all together

yandere twin says chad used to say she would "go to hell and get fucked" and you know what, fuck that guy

this is why he's still catching strays on a regular basis 9 months later

yandere twin wants to take gideon to see dr reverend emperor john

gideon goes "No, thanks. I'm good"

that's what I would have said, I approve

but she has no choice, because harrowcita is still gone and whatever's going on is ??????

so, out she goes to follow yandere twin to see this asshat

who maybe will, at the very least, give us a little more info on gideon's demigod status

fingers crossed

hope he dies

And that's it for this update!!! It's a short one but we're moving forward!!!

[magicalmanhattanproject]

so i wanna talk about 2b2t, specifically as a backstory for qfit. because the thing is everyone talks about 2b2t as a wasteland and a wreck and a bombed out warzone and like. it sure as hell isn't not that. but it's also a server that people keep on coming to. it's a server that takes pride in actively murdering new members, but it's a server that keeps on having new members

so, what's the draw? what keeps people coming and coming back?

well, the thing about an anarchy server is that it has no rules, be they rules of society or rules of reality

the way i think about 2b2t is that it's a fucked up wonderland. like you know when someone makes a deal with a sinister fairy and it comes true in the worst way for them possible? that's how everything works on 2b.

you want infinite blocks for your builds? sure, the griefers have infinite tnt too. you want infinite totems to stay alive? sure, end crystal pvp means you're gonna need every last one of them. you want fame and fortune for griefing a legendary build? sure, you got a target on your back for the rest of your life though

but the thing is that the metaphorical fucked up fairies are busy. it's down to the individual server members to take care of the double dealing and the double crossing and the wreaking of havoc. and they do! with delight! but they can't* be everywhere at once.

so, you have a chance. you can get lucky. you can get lucky for a while. you can build a nice little life for yourself. you can even get it off the back of tearing other people down if you're quick and you're clever and that's much faster and easier than trying to grind your own resources the vanilla way when every moment is a race against the clock before your base gets found and griefed but you can try and you can do pretty well and you can try again and you can try to get revenge and you can make friends and you can make enemies and you can have everything you ever wanted for the low, low price of everything you ever had and why not pay it when you can just build it all back up again

the other things about 2b2t that i think points to fucked up fairy wonderland instead of standard wartime dystopia is so much of how the server works is really best understood as necromancy-adjacent. so every account is a different person, right? well, some people have a half dozen faces just in case someone finds out where one sleeps. sometimes. there was that one time one guy's shambling corpse** just got reanimated by a completely different guy who took over his identity and no one really minded when they found out

there's an entire population of bots that move and act like players and communicate in all the ways players can barring hte most intimate*** and they literally can't be distinguished from players in most circumstances but they're used as delivery drones so they'll bring you a package and then die in front of you so you can't follow them back to the cache

like this is just!! a thing!!! that people live with!!!!!!!

2b2t has highway unions!! it also has collectives who go around destroying the highways!! there are compassionate souls making community areas!! those areas are griefed to hell and back but not beyond recognizibility!!

it's all just an absolutely fascinating world and it deserves to be explored in how it affects fit's character a lot more than just "ptsd from bombs" even though that's also a massive part of it

*NOCOM notwithstanding

**To be clear bc it wasn't a roleplay bit, the original player is still alive, but he's got no intention of returning to 2b2t so his cubito is definitely dead.

***They can like spam crouch and send messages in chat and you're not gonna want to hop in a vc with a rando from 2b2t

[queer-n-here]

Fucking Sangwoo dumb because why not.

Also, I got the idea to write this fic from this piece by @karmasadistic69 Lemme know if y'all want a part 2.

Also, fair warning, this one is not gonna be romantic. At all.

Contents: Reader kidnapping and fucking Sangwoo.

Warnings: Rape, kidnapping, mature themes, mentions of murder, mentions of suicide. Like I've said before, this is gonna be darker than what I usually write, you have been warned.

Oh Sangwoo.

The one behind all those serial murders.

The public didn't know yet; the cops were running around like headless chickens trying to find him.

But you knew.

You knew everything. About his mother, about his fist murder, about every single one that had followed ever since. Even about Yoon Bum, you knew.

And you hated him for it.

Yet here he was, tied to a metal bed frame and slowly regaining his consciousness as you watched his profile.

Sangwoo lifted his head slowly, eyes blinking open as his brows furrowed in confusion. The moment he realised he wasn't anywhere he knew, his eyes widened, and he whipped his head around, trying to figure out just where he was. And that's when his eyes fell on you.

You hadn't bothered to cover your face. For one, you knew Sangwoo would never manage to get past the measures you'd taken to keep him locked in your basement. For two, you wanted him to know who was going to ruin him.

"[Name]," Sangwoo said, and you saw fear in his eyes at being at the other side of this situation. He was supposed to be the one sitting in that chair, smirking; not the other way around. "What the fuck?"

You chuckled. "Surprised, are we?"

You got up from the chair, walked over closer to him and sat down at the edge of the bed. Sangwoo tried to scuttle away, to shift back, but the chains you had put around his legs and wrists would only let him get so far.

"Let's see..." You tilted your head at him. "How does it feel to be at the receiving end of this situation? Does it excite you? Does it help you understand your victims better? Or..."

You looked down at his sweaty hands, and then at his pale face. "Does it scare you?"

Sangwoo grit his teeth. He knew what you were thinking. That's what he thought every time he dealt with a victim.

Ah, he's trying to struggle away. How fun.

But he wasn't gonna let you have that satisfaction.

"How did I get here?" Sangwoo's voice was barely stable.

"Hmm," You debated internally whether or not to be like those typical movie villains that explain their plans before failing horribly to kill the hero. And then you realised, no one's a hero here. You were both deranged.

And so you said, "D'you remember me handing you that bottle of water after your match?"

You watched as Sangwoo remembered, and his eyes grew dark with hatred, but his expression remained casual. "So that's how I blacked out... Not bad."

You chuckled at his attempt to look aloof. "Oh, please, I learned from the best."

The implication of your words hit Sangwoo in the face. He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

You got up from the bed, walking over to the only barred window in the room. "It's funny, really, how the cops could never figure out it was you when you left behind all the evidence you did."

You didn't look back at him, but even in the silence you could hear the cogs of his brain turning. Should he admit to it? Or should he act like he didn't know what you were talking about?

Fuck it, if you had blackmail material on him, he had some on you, too.

"So you knew." Was the only thing he said.

"Of course I did." You turned around now, slightly excited to see his reaction. "I know everything, Sangwoo. From the body in your walls to the boy locked in your basement. Or should I say... Corpse?"

Sangwoo's face paled further, and finally, finally, a fraction of the fear he felt showed on his face.

Silence.

Then, "You killed Yoon Bum."

You laughed. "Oh, did you get attached to him?"

Sangwoo shook his head, a lie. He was attached to that boy. That's why he made him murder that bitch, so Yoon Bum could never leave him without the fear of cops. Yoon Bum was the only one he had.

He didn't love Bum, fuck no. He needed him to stay alive.

But now, he was gone, and standing in front of Sangwoo was you instead, just as insane as him, if not more.

He didn't say anything after that, and you left him to his thoughts.

The next day, you put your hands on him for the first time.

You'd thought about it many times, fuck, dreamt about it, even. And now he was here, in your hands and all yours to ruin.

When you first stripped him of his clothes, he tried to struggle. It was amusing how scared he was to have the sort of things done to him that he'd been doing to people for years now. Maybe it was because he could tell what thoughts were running through your brain, having had them himself.

You freed Sangwoo's legs, keeping his hands bound still. The next few hours were hell for Sangwoo, and heaven for you.

He gave up on struggling half-way through, using his bound wrists to hide his face instead, as if he could somehow forget you existed if he couldn't see you. His chest was heaving with each breath. As you fucked into him nice and fast, he bit down on his lips, hard, not willing to allow a single sound escape his lips to give you satisfaction.

The humiliation, the shame, the hatred he felt in those hours was so, so much more intense than anything else Sangwoo had ever experienced in his life. He wanted to kill himself, wanted to cut off each inch of his skin that you had touched. Anything, anything, if only it meant this would stop, if it meant you would stop. If it meant that he would wake up in his house again, with Bum locked up in his basement and the freedom to move his arms.

But you wouldn't let him struggle away, wouldn't even let him look away. You slapped his hands away when he tried to cover his face, and roughly grabbed his jaw to make him look at you.

"The second you break eye contact, Sangwoo," You muttered, your hips bludgeoning into his. "I won't hesitate to use these chains to choke you out of your miserable life, do you understand?"

And as much as Sangwoo wanted to die already, as much as he wanted this to end, he gulped and obeyed, lips and lashes trembling with fear.

There was no doubt that you'd do it. No doubt that you'd kill him if you got sick of him.

And so he lay there, letting you fuck him again and again and again.

[monosanimegenericzone]

Hunter x Hunter: chrollo vs hisoka round 2

ok i need to yap about something

dude hisoka is so fucking smart it actually pisses me off.

now i do like the idea of hisoka. he is a great antihero/villain and has had so much thought put behind his psyche that i put him under the microscope and still dont understand him.

but i came here to talk about the mind games he pulled on chrollo after the heavens arena fight. (shout out to @helenisaweirdo for putting chrollo thoughts in my brain)

so we all yell at chrollo for leaving his crew basically defenseless on the ship while he goes and tries to steal an ugly pot. yes its stupid that he's leaving these very vulnerable members by themselves with a killer clown on the loose. yes its stupid that EVEN AFTER deducing that hisoka is already on tier 1 to leave bonolenov on the upper tier alone. and yes its stupid that way way way back before even getting on the ship he left shal and kortopi alone.

but i raise you the idea

what if chrollo never heard hisoka's declaration.

hisoka told machi that he will kill all of the other spiders on sight. and he never said to chrollo's face that his new goal was to wipe out the troupe.

based on those two very careful choices, hisoka has effectively created an out for himself, because chrollo doesn't know that his troupe is the main target.

and this is coming after some major mind fuckery where chrollo perfectly predicted hisoka beat for beat in the heat of combat and STILL somehow lost.

so EVEN IF machi told chrollo what hisoka told her (i dont think she did, we'll get to that later), he would assume that hisoka's main target is still chrollo and that chrollo just has to get to him first.

[explanation below]

this yap gonna be long. im rolling up my sleeves

ok so let's set the scene. chrollo has just beaten the ever loving shit out of the murder clown, blown off two of his limbs and half of his face. he probably stayed long enough to see the corpse, hear the diagnosis and then he dipped

chrollo outside of missions travels alone. during hisoka's explanation of chrollo back in yorknew we hear "when on the battlefield he'll travel with two or more spiders at a time" (loose paraphrasing) "but after every job, he'll disappear." the heavens arena fight wasn't a job. it was just some petty beef. a loose end chrollo had to tie up before moving on to his next big move (black whale 1). so after the fight, he was supposed to "disappear"

so here comes the speculation: we don't know if its actually possible for users to reclaim powers from skill hunter. chrollo was going to return shal's phone but that's all we hear about 'returning' something. shal even says that he won't need the antenna anymore.

that being said. there was no reason for anyone to want to attack shalnark or kortopi. their faces were wiped from the mafia databases and most, if not all, eye witnesses to any of the troupe's crimes have been killed. there is NO ONE that should be targetting shalnark and kortopi at this point in time. (except kurapika but i think chrollo took preventative measures)

and we know based on the hunter exam, people without nen can be extremely skilled in combat. we can reasonably assume that shalnark is one of them (kortopi is kind of an ehhh?? bcs we have seen zero feats from him that didn't involve his hatsu). so they can handle themselves in terms of mortal combat with normal people.

and here comes an observation that i think gets constantly overlooked (i do it too) in favor of viewing the troupe as a "found family". nobunaga himself said it: they operate exactly like the hei-ly. that means they will usually operate solo within their own set of skills. chrollo gives them a task on a job and they decide individually how they want to handle it.

and up to now, they've never failed. so there is this powerful 12-17 year build up of trust in each other's abilities.

so even though i am mad about chrollo leaving his members alone, i also can't be mad because THERE is my hidden phound family moment.

ok going back to the point

hisoka comes back to life and machi is the only one to witness it. we assume that no one else saw hisoka return from the dead (or at least not anyone significant) since he was listed in the official casualties. he imprisons her and tells her to send a message that she refuses to relay.

he could have killed her. but he doesn't. and i think there is a very good reason

he kills shalnark and kortopi and makes sure that they are easy to find. and of course chrollo finds out. we don't know the details of how it happened but i bet it's something along the lines of "chrollo tries to call shal and he doesn't pick up dun dun dunnn"

now here's where it can go two ways.

machi can either tell chrollo hisoka's threat

or she could keep it to herself.

the story works either way, but it works better if she stays quiet. now why would she stay quiet? because she doesn't want to do anything hisoka says and/or is protecting her dignity. regardless there is a very real chance she just said "hisoka lived" and that was enough to get the message across.

at this point chrollo has only so much evidence to go off of: hisoka killed shalnark and kortopi, but he spared machi.

logically, this is because shalnark and kortopi were a) vulnerable and b) part of chrollo's plan that is THE ONLY thing that has made hisoka struggle in his journey so far. in chrollo's mind, hisoka is seeking ways to strip chrollo of his power to weaken him in their due rematch. he spared machi because he was making a point.

therefore. hisoka will only target chrollo's troupe if chrollo attempts to use them for his own personal gain.

of course we, the readers, know this isn't true. hisoka is going to on sight any troupe member.

but, chrollo thinks that this is a much more focused threat.

he thought he knew how hisoka worked. when he was betrayed in yorknew he learned that hisoka never wanted to be part of the troupe and was only using the position as a way to get close to chrollo. he learned about hisoka's powers through studying heavens arena fights and most likely spent a lot of time listening to hisoka's reports on the troupe and the exorcist during greed island.

so, reasonably, he HAS to know hisoka's pre-death mantra: hisoka wants to find ideal fight partners to "love to death." he'll ignore everyone and anyone else until he gets who he wants. so when he dodges death, chrollo realizes that he is such a horn dog for battle that he will literally use every technique in the nen book to win.

ive heard the argument that chrollo put the idea of post mortem nen into hisoka's head which caused him to create the resuscitation move. but i dont think that's true because hisoka has never been pushed to the brink of death like this. he's of course aware of post-mortem nen because we see him get tight when chrollo talks about sun and moon, so this was always going to be his endgame if the situation ever called for it.

minor point

ANYWAY.

MY ENTIRE POINT IS

hisoka has successfully convinced chrollo that chrollo is his primary target.

which is probably why he had the troupe split up in the first place. on jobs he would usually travel with 2 or more troupe members, as stated above, but this time he WILLINGLY goes alone. shizuku and bonolenov followed him of their own free will.

he probably sent them off SO HE CAN DIE ALONE.

SOMEONE GET THIS BOY A HUG AND SOME HEAD PATS S T A T.

fr tho he probably sent them off because he doesn't want them becoming collateral in a brawl with hisoka where he assumes hisoka will predict that he stole their abilities.

chrollo is so bent on this idea that he is changing the entire flow of the troupe, putting both himself and the rest of the troupe at an even greater risk. he would be much safer being with two other troupe members like he would usually do things. BUT NOOOOOOO he is changing his entire flow to throw hisoka off the scent and buy himself time.

like it is crazy. i dont know how much sense this makes but i am. losing my fucking mind.

[norissisca]

“I wish to be with you in my final moments, my love”

PTII — TEASER

Satoru x Suguru x Non-Sorc!Reader

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT : fempov

content warning : gore, thoughts of cannibalism, death, angst, miscarriage, alcohol, mention of rape, horror themes, psychosis, suicide

a/n : I felt bad for making my snookums wait and with my recent problems with tumblr and then deleting my whole draft, I had to re-write it so here is the beginning teaser of ptII. I hope you guys can tell what the first bit of the fanfics are, hehe always love challenging people into little puzzles

PT I

August 10th, 2017, at around midnight,

Commence of investigation and assessment

Like usual he had to say something snarky, always having the last word to those elders. . . God, I should’ve killed them ages ago. But whatever. A smirked piqued as he spun around his heel and pulled up his blindfold, concealing his icy blue eyes, as if the thought of seeing those old ragged men seeing a flash of purple before they were wiped clean from the Earth gave him euphoria.

“Fucking hell. . . Seriously, it’s just a body that is unidentifiable, these second-grades keep getting more pathetic and pathetic as they go. Makes my white hair turn whi— no, no, no, black.”

He would whine and complain, swinging his hands around to express more dramatic key to how he’s currently feeling. He’d teleport himself to the site, stretching his lanky arms and his long legs took wide steps, shoving his hands in his pocket with a pout on his face. Striding past Ijichi as he began his usual “important” rambling, breaking down the suspicion of the attack and how the investigation will play out which as expected Satoru literally always ignore him and simply waved his hand as if he already knows everything.

“Soooo. . . Do you know who this person is or are we gonna play guess who with this body.”

Ijichi would adjust his glasses as he let out a soft sigh as he had to repeat himself yet again. Satoru nodding as he continued with the information.

“Gojo-san, if you heard me correctly, the body is completely mutilated to the point the body is unidentifiable, we don’t even know the sex of the person. . . At the moment all we are suspecting is that this curse must’ve eaten its way in or out of the lower stomach, we be—“

“Euughhh! Now thats just gross, I’ll give credit to the curse for trynna be a weirdo. Cause that’s just outright weird, but nothin that isn’t past my big leagues.”

“Right. Anyways, as I was stating, we believe this theory because although the body is completely disorientated we can tell it was from the lower stomach due to the massive hole in it that its the focal point of the attack.”

Satoru would abruptly stopped walking making Ijichi speed walking into a halt which merely made him skid to the pole in front of him. Satoru would tug one of his hand out of his pocket and lazily point to the alleyway with the corpse in it. Although they can’t see the body yet due to how deep it was into the alleyway, it was evidential that it was there because of the rotting stench kissing their noses and that made the both of them grimace (mostly Ijichi).

“If that’s so, has any of you dudes found the curse yet?”

“Uh, no. That’s why you’re here, the second grade won’t talk. He’s in a state of shock from seeing the body, so it was quite hard to ask if he’s seen the curse or not.”

“Welp! I’m only guessing you want me to ask?. . . Jesus, ‘state of shock’. This guy is obviously weak as hell, can’t even handle the sight of a body torn up!”

He would’ve grumble the insult underneath his breath, obviously he was currently pissed off as the investigation is being dragged out even more all because some second grade is being a pussy. Ijichi notice the aura change of Satoru, which made him a teeny bit scared of him.

Man, I wonder how my sweets is pulling up. Lowk kinda worried about her since the past few weeks, she’s been acting strange. . . Like real fuckin’ stran—

Until it struck him. The scent of nostalgia, it reminded him back in his school days. That smell coming from the alleyway where the body was located, it was no doubt. . . Suguru

[zoeys-ksbd-fan-blog]

Book 1 First Impressions

Part 1

Hiya, so as a kinda fresh ksbd fan I feel like other fans would enjoy hearing what it's like for a newcomer to read it for the first time. Maybe give them a little taste of what it was like to read it the first time themselves.

So, my first impression...

...was oh my god holy shit the art is so good wow wow wow cool oh my god wow

Also, as of writing I'm a decent chunk into book 3. When I first saw this panel I was actually overwhelmed. Which I feel like is the intended affect since the leading up pages are pretty typical. I didn't even notice the center figure got fucking beheaded until my 2nd reread.

But also it's fun seeing this panel now and being, like, hey I know what all these characters are

On that note, I am excited to eventually learn exactly what's happening here. Is that bird significant? I know what this area is called but is there anything more significant going on here? Is it all metaphorical.

Which i dont think it is, because in the description of many pages there is supplemental stories. They mimic ancient poems, and other historical texts.

And birds are mentioned pretty frequently, as small creatures made by old gods that are small enough to travel through holes in reality to other realms.

White Chain is a trans king. A male person stuck in the shell of someone who looks feminine. Based.

Although the more I read an angels gender seems to be pretty fluid, which would make sense.

I'm not trying to summarize the comics, but I guess for context. Angels can only affect the physical world through one of these sets of armors. Their real forms are less human, usually.

And I guess this is a good place to compliment the visual design. Holy shit the aesthetic of these cities being built on these corpses is extraordinarily fucking cool.

And in the description the author left an I-Spy sort of puzzle in the description which is an excellent way to get a reader to look at a panel longer.

And shoutouts to the commentor who told me to read the description and comics, there is so much extra content there I've re-read book 1 four times and have had new experiences each time.

The world building is so intricate it completely trumps most other media I've seen. I dunno what to tell you, its just great. You can just taste how long the author has been cooking this world for. And it all paid off.

Cool background character is cool.

In gonna talk about the extra description content again, they're cool and are mandatory to read. Although maybe leave it to your second or third reread because the world building already present is still very dense.

Some of them involve a figure who is talking to their birds and asking questions to the reader. Which people answer in the comments.

Those same answers are then mentioned later as conversations had by people in Yisun's hall.

Don't know who Yisun is? Read the comic.

But things get confusing, the figure asks the readers where they believe Allison is traveling right when she is pulled from her own world. Someone says that she is going to the future, and Yisun likes it and makes it true.

But she isn't going to the future? Like she just isn't? We know later that this is all taking place linearly.

It's all very meta.

On page 16 we get some wild lore. It seems to be a background on Pree Ashma. Who's name I definitely recognize but deadass cannot remember who they are.

I'm probably not gonna mention the description again, but I wanted to yap so there you go.

No clue who this person is but I thought she was cool enough to make my pfp. We know her last name from the description though.

Later clues tell us she's a knight. That and people call her The Beggar Knight.

Boy would I love to pick the authors brain about where his mind goes when he creates these characters. Because they are so consistently unique and impressive. Praman Nand is a more important character so I would expect his design to be more striking. But the effort in his design is present in even the most insignificant background characters.

I imagine the dialect Cio is speaking here vs how she speaks to Allison and White Chain is the devil equivalent of code-switching.

I really love the action scenes. The author packs in so much detail that one panel feels fast paced. While giving the important events time to breath.

And this is where I learned tumblr has a 10 image per post limit i didn't know about. Continued in part 2!

[aimbutmiss]

Buggy sighed in frustration as he clenched another important document that he absolutely couldn't care less about as he tried to make sense of the words on it. Crocodile rolled his eyes at his "dramatic theatrics", as he put it. And while Buggy did indeed hold the sigh a bit longer than necessary, he could argue it was a very justified reaction. The words on the paper were basically alphabet soup in his brain as it completely shut down, unable to process any more information.

He rubbed his eyes as if that would somehow fix the problem. He felt closer to death with every second he spent inside the dreary office tent. The room was suffocating, filled with the smoke of Crocodile's never ending cigars. Buggy desperately needed fresh air and exposure to direct sunlight, or a poor crew member was going to find his corpse under all those papers by the end of the day.

"Croccy, it's been hours... How many more signatures do you need from me?"

Crocodile puffed out the smoke in his mouth as he spoke, making the air in the tent even heavier. Buggy had to hold himself back from coughing as he kept his eyes locked to the other man's unimpressed ones. "You're the one who insisted on reading all the documents when I already had done so. You could have just quickly signed all of them and left by now if you weren't so stubborn."

"Of course I have to read them! How can I trust you? You could be making me sign away my life to the slave trade for all I know!"

Crocodile laughed menacingly, the only way he knew how, as far as Buggy had seen. "No one would pay good money for you, clown. And if I wanted to sell you off I would have done it by now."

Buggy crossed his arms with a frown, ready to argue with his business partner, but he was cut by a low-ranking worker entering the tent reluctantly.

"I'm saved." He thought as Crocodile got up to talk to the poor man. He took the moment to sneak outside, limb by limb. As he put himself back together outside of the tent, he took the sunlight in with a sigh and cracked his back in relief. He was unfortunately too old and certainly too sexy for an office job. Being an Emperor was supposed to be more flashy than this god dammit!

He locked eyes with the shaky man as he left the tent, and gave him a reassuring smile. The man visibly relaxed, smiling wide as he bowed down before leaving Buggy's presence.

Buggy hated how much Crocodile ruled by fear. These were his men! He was responsible for their well-being and happiness! Well, he couldn't even protect his own well-being so how could he do the same for his enormous crew...

"Don't think so hard, your head will explode."

Buggy jumped in his place as Crocodile spoke in his ear. Too close! When had he snuck up on him? He was too tired to deal with this.

"I'm gonna go now."

"Not before you sign the papers."

"I'm tired..."

"Then don't read them."

"But I want to!"

"THEN GET BACK IN THERE!" Crocodile pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his cool after his outburst. "Okay, you either go in willingly or I'll drag you in there myself if I have to." He moved his hook at an angle, making the light reflect off its sharp edge menacingly. And Buggy probably should have listened, but something snapped in him.

"Stop threatening me with that damn hook of yours! You know I can't get cut."

"But you can get pierced, can't you?"

Buggy gulped, sweat forming on his forehead but not daring to drop. "... You wouldn't dare."

"And why's that?"

"Because..." Buggy stared the scary man in the eyes and was somehow overcome with boldness he couldn't explain. "Because this" he gestured to his face with exaggerated motion "is what sells your shitty personality to everyone!" He was spitting out the words like venom, emphasising every word slowly. "You need me. Certainly more than I need you. You're just an overgrown accountant, but I'm a fucking Emperor. I leave, and the thousands of men under me also leave. You are nothing without me. So stop acting like you can get rid of me without consequences. I dare you to pierce me with that hook."

"..."

Buggy smiled smugly. "I'm gonna take a nap now."

He was lighter than a feather as he made his way to his tent, the smile never dropping from his face. He did it! Well, he wasn't quite free but it was certainly a step in the right direction. And sue him, he was fucking proud of himself.

As he left with his head in the clouds, he was completely unaware of the scene he left behind him. Crocodile was fuming. He felt hot with anger and another annoying, sticky emotion eating at his insides. He completely ignored Mihawk, who had been a witness to the whole conversation.

The swordsman raised a brow in question at the man's silence. "What are you gonna do now, go masturbate?"

Crocodile stared daggers at the man before turning into sand and flowing away. And he absolutely did not masturbate to thoughts about the clown. Ridiculous Hawk Eye really thought he knew everything...

(and he did.)

[tenderhooked]

touch starved river dissertation and stalker frank please owo owo owo i love this i love your work forever and your examinations of touch starvation always hit the exact spot

GAAAAAAAAV WAUUGH I LOVE YOUUUUU WEEPS. as always so much of my writing and these fics is all down to you and your own writing mwah mwah <3

i got another ask about stalker frank so i'm gonna consolidate that into another post, which means :) i'm gonna yap about touch starved river dissertation this whole post :)

so! touch starved river dissertation. in many ways, exactly what it says on the tin: touch-starved river is real and true to me, and i wanna talk about it. so. this fic kicks off with river in hospital after being shot by a bullet that was meant for lamb and river jumped in front of. louisa's there, and she. she just grabs river's hand, when he wakes up, and the gentle warmth of her touch awakens something inside of him that has maybe always existed but that he's never had reason to let surface. it's like. he just craves love, and affection, and now he has a friend who is maybe possibly willing to give that to him. but he can't ask, because that would be shameful, and he doesn't deserve to have that love anyway. so. that's the first part of this fic!

the second. and the uh. the one that somehow hurts me even MORE. is the lamb of it all. because after river is released from hospital, lamb is there to pick him up. and as they're driving home, things take a severe turn and lamb essentially just. well. he's furious because river took a bullet meant for him and that scares the shit out of him, and in order to "protect" river he:

“Don’t fucking sir me,” Lamb spits, and River stiffens. Spine straight. Eyes forward. Perfect little soldier. “Before you turned up on the doorstep, do you know how many agents I had to carpool from hospital, or—or, or, here’s a tricky one, how many of them bled out in the street alone because their colleague couldn’t get it through his thick skull that unless he’s behind a desk the rest of his days he’ll keep getting them killed? Zero, Cartwright. Fucking zero. D’you know why?” River’s jaw works, and he means what he says next to be flat and hard and just as vicious as Lamb is being, but instead it’s strangled and tiny, like the dying squeak of a mouse caught in a trap. “N-no.” “Well, they all got it, didn’t they? They learned to keep their heads down and mouths shut. Yet you, you seem incapable of obeying orders, and you’ve dragged the rest of us right down with you and those mistakes you keep lugging around behind you like… yeah, like corpses. They’re infecting us. You’re infecting us, Cartwright, and I’ve got to get rid of rot when I see it. Health inspections, they’re fucking brutal this time of year.” “Are you—are you firing me?” “Christ, no. I haven’t the time. ’Sides, this is about teaching you a lesson. You’re gonna sit at your desk, day in and day out, regretting every moment that you didn’t quit back when you had the chance, until you’re blue in the face and too angry to care about being the fucking hero. Then… well.” In his periphery, River can tell that Lamb is staring at him, now, only he can’t figure out what the expression is. He can’t look. He doesn’t want to know. “Then, we can reconsider the termination of your employment.”

and this conversation kicks off the second prong of this fic, which is that lamb is grappling with like. the sudden realization that he cares about river, that he loves river like a son, and that he came this close to losing the idiot kid because he let their relationship go further than it was supposed to. so, to lamb, the obvious solution is to cut river out of his life entirely. unfortunately (spoiler) this uh. doesn't work so well!!!! and it comes to a head with the touch-starvation of it all in suuuuuch a massive terrible way for river and i'm just. HOUGH. VERY THRILLED ABOUT IT HEHEHEHEHE.

[reaperlight]

[Murder friends polycule meets the family...]

Mary Brock: Wait... all of you are dating my baby brother?

Felicia: Yep!

Mary [awkward]: I see.. So... uh, how did you... all of you meet?

Cletus: In prison. :)

Frances: He crashed our wedding.

Felicia: When Cletus dragged his corpse in.

Venom: He has delicious organs!

Mary: What the fuck?

Eddie: I swear it's not as bad as it sounds. I was in prison interviewing Cletus for the paper, I wasn't arrested.

Mary: I found that less concerning... Organs? Corpse?

Eddie: ...I got better.

Carnage: For what it's worth, I'm not dating him because humans get weird about that. Mine are Cletus and Frances. I just like to watch... And sometimes help.

Mary: ...Excuse me but what even are these things?

Carnage: Hmmm, rude!

Eddie: Let me try. This [referring to Venom] is my husband. And these are our friends.

Felicia: Friends... with benefits.

Cletus: Yes, there are many benefits to being our friends! :)))

Eddie: Yes they're our friends who help us kill Eldritch horrors. And definitely do not try to kill us.

Venom: Nailed it!

Frances: That is one of the benefits. As is sex.

Eddie [groaning]: Come on...

Frances: You're not embarrassed of us are you, Eddie?

Eddie: No. Of course not but she's not gonna understand...

Frances: Let me try. Cletus is my husband, Carnage is our partner. Eddie and Venom are married and are our special friends, and Felicia is my special friend and brain buddy from when we were kidnapped by the government together!

Mary: Half the time I can't tell if you are joking or not... Do I even want to know what the red one was talking about humans getting weird?

Venom: Well, because Carnage is our daughter--

Mary: What?!

Venom: Spawned asexually from me of course but if you wanna get technical in bonding Eddie and I do share DNA. As does Carnage with her host. So she has some human in her, just as I do.

Felicia: In you, huh?

Cletus: Literally and figuratively!

Frances: Hey Carnage, does that mean Mary is your auntie?

Mary: [*looking between the red monster and her brother in shock and horror*]

Carnage: See? They're getting weird about it. We spawn asexually. We don't have your taboos. On the comet we wouldn't even be considered related...

Mary: This isn't a comet.

Carnage: ...If we didn't want to. We choose our families. Decide what Hive we want to belong to. I want to. We are family, despite the initial abandonment and... unpleasantness.

Venom: You know most of the time we don't even know when we spawn to avoid eating each other.

Carnage: ...I see. In any case I truly do not mind when our hosts screw. In fact, I encourage it. It's a free meal. It makes our human hosts release those chemicals that depressed gray matter of yours is so loathe to produce.

Venom: And it's not like our hosts are related. Cletus became the host for our offspring when he took in our genetic material...

Cletus: ...Okay now you're making it sound like you knocked me up.

Venom: Because we did.

Mary: ...

Cletus: ...

Eddie: ...technically that was before we were screwing.

Cletus: Yeah, that was just a little light cannibalism.

Mary: Please tell me you're joking? You're not joking, are you?

Eddie: ...Sorry.

Mary: Just... I need a moment here.

Eddie: So like... we heard you're getting married and wanted me to be here and bring my "special someone" so how exactly does this--

Mary [facepalming]: It was supposed to be a +1.